Empty Wallets

It was my Dad’s 80+ something birthday. All his life he always tried to keep abreast of the latest technological gadgets in the market. Over the past few months he was miffed that his mobile phone purchased about 9 months back was only 3G and he was missing all the fun of 4G users. So my wife thought it was a great idea to surprise him on his birthday and gift him a 4G phone!

 The solitary candle on the delicious cake was blown, followed by our cacophonic rendition of the Happy Birthday song. The first slice of cake was passed around and chocolate smeared lips and fingers cleaned with tissues. This set the stage for the opening of the small surprise package! Dad’s joy knew no bounds as the black smartphone was unwrapped and the tiny SIM card inserted in the slot and set up. The small notation at the top right corner of the phone now displayed a macho 4G instead of the obsolete, effete 3G. His wish was fulfilled – now he was abreast with the new generation.

Over the next couple of days, he was glued to the phone, with my wife helping him with the new features. However, something was amiss – the normal exuberance of a new acquisition was missing. Conversations veered more towards the difficulties he was facing with the new phone – the icons of the app was not of the same size, the screen responsiveness was too fast, his apps were slow etc. It was getting apparent that he yearned for his old phone and was not happy with the new model who had come into his life unannounced. A week later, I asked him, “Dad, would you like to have your old phone back?” Very hesitatingly, knowing that it would break our hearts, he admitted that he would like to have his old love back. I understood his predicament and without any argument, transferred the SIM to his old phone and saw peace in his eyes once again.

My wife was naturally heart broken – after all, she loved giving gifts, as surprises and making people around her happy. This would be the first time of unrequited affections that a gift was not accepted. I consoled her – that Dad is now not comfortable with changes and I would be able to sell the phone for a handsome price on an e-commerce portal. But she still hoped that Dad would change his mind and not reject her gift. Teary eyed, with a heavy heart, she agreed with a condition that I should get a minimum price of Rs 16K on the original price of Rs 20K – knowing very well, I would not succeed and maybe that would make Dad rescind his decision.

Saturday morning, I took pictures of the phone and placed the ad on the OLX portal for sale – with a minimum price of Rs 18K, keeping 2K margin for negotiating. Who on earth would buy a used phone for this price? Considering that it was absolutely new, I figured that I would at best get 14K – but that was not a solution, since the minimum offer price was set at 16K by my wife. 

Messages kept pouring on the portal – buyers who wanted to make a great buy offered prices ranging from 10K – 12K. And I tried my best at negotiating with these hardened mobile brokers. Then I received a message with no offer but a number to call. I was sceptical – this was probably one more broker who would offer me something lower than 10K and did not even want to quote. I picked up the phone and called him – he spoke matter of fact that he wanted to purchase the phone and he would like to buy the phone at 12K. I feebly tried to negotiate – but he asserted that he would like to come in the next 30 minutes and close the deal. Considering that I did not have a firm offer till then at this level, I muttered that I would sell it for 14K minimum. He requested that I consider the price of 12K and he would be reaching home soon to pick up the piece.

I had sold on OLX before and rarely found buyers to be true to their word and show up. But to my surprise, around 20 minutes later, I heard the doorbell ring. I knew it would be the potential buyer of the mobile and took a deep breath to negotiate a hard bargain. I expected to see a brawny, mobile no-nonsense broker, but was surprised to see a frail, youngster at the door.

I asked him to come in and showed him the phone. He introduced himself as Neeraj and was visibly happy holding the phone and asked me whether there was any problem with the phone. I replied in the negative and told him the story of my Dad’s discomfort. He looked up at me and with expectant eyes asked me to finalise at 12K. Seeing his satisfaction, my professional negotiating skills emboldened me and I affirmed that 16K, the price my wife had set for the phone, was the minimum I would settle for. He reminded me that I agreed for 14K on the phone. Moreover, he had just borrowed 12K from his friend, took out the money and his wallet was empty. He pleaded that I agree for 12K – which I did not, but agreed that I would stand by my ethical standards and 14K was a minimum, which I had agreed on the phone. Since I was sure that he did not have any more money, I was willing to let the deal fail – since finalising it at 14K would not have met the minimum price of 16K. 

He continued to request and implored to close it at 12K – but I stood firm. My price of 14K was a steal – I would not go below that.  He finally stopped negotiating. But I saw immense sadness and disappointment in his eyes. I could not understand, since a mobile broker would not have time for emotions – for them it was to make a quick buck in situations like this. He left and I went back to the portal to resume my negotiations with the other potential buyers.

An hour later, the bell rang again. To my surprise it was Neeraj again. I asked him to step in. He explained how he rushed back to the ATM and managed to get 2K more. And that he was ready to finalise at 14K. I was taken aback. I was hoping that this deal would fail, since it was below my minimum 16K price. But I had given him an offer. I had to keep my word. Seeing my hesitation, he blurted out, “Sir, I want this new phone so badly, since I want to gift it to my wife”. My heart melted as he took out the money from his pocket and the wallet was empty. He added, “This is my entire months’ salary”. 

I had no hesitation anymore. I helped him set up the phone. He was visibly thrilled and excited. He knew that he had made a great buy at 14K for a 20K phone in a brand new condition. And he knew he would make his wife very happy. Sensing his emotions, I was almost as excited as him and helped him repack it and gift wrap it. His face was beaming with joy while he profusely thanked me and I shared his happiness. He was no mobile broker but just a husband who was willing to do anything it takes to make his wife happy.

I shut the door after him and walked back with the 14k in my hand. My wallet was lying on the dresser. I opened it and found only one 2K note in it. I picked it up and added it to the 14K in my hand. I looked at my empty wallet and smiled as I walked to my wife. She was touched and so happy to hear the story of Neeraj and that her gift indeed brought joy to someone made her forget her earlier disappointment. 

Two Empty Wallets and Two Happy Wives.

Confessions of my BDSM fetish

Well, now that I have got your attention to read my blog, I must confess it is not the BDSM you were excited and curious to read about – actually, I misspelt the acronym and I meant BSDM!! I presume you do not know the difference between the two words – but let me assure you that it is not a new variant of BDSM in fashion. The BSDM I am referring to is Back Seat Driving Manners!!

My trials and tribulations with BSDM began about two and half decades back, when I had purchased my first car – a second hand Fiat. I had the privilege of acutely learning about BSDM from none other than my beloved mother-in-law. She would be in the back seat and with her 360 degree view, would be giving a running commentary and cautioning me about everything moving around us – whether a stray canine or a large city bus. As such, in those early days, I needed to impress my super-critical father-in-law with my driving skills - but my mil’s non-stop BSDM escalated the risk multifold, of driving all of us into a drain. I survived those initial years well – but what is astonishing and commendable of my mil is after all these years of blemish- free, scratch- free driving and taking care of her daughter rather well, her BSDM continues to be as strong and strident, as it was 25 years back.

These early year experiences made me aware of my BSDM. I guess I am no saint either. We, as a family, love going out on long drives. The norm was that my wife drove the morning half, while the kids sat behind listening to music and playing Twenty Questions. The afternoon half was my responsibility, where my better half took a nap in the back seat with my younger daughter and the older one kept me awake.  Looking back, I realize my etiquettes of BSDM is not something that I can crow about. It invariably happened that due to my constant, unsolicited advice, there would be that fatal moment, when my wife would pull over to the side, turn off the ignition and say that she would not drive any more. I would sheepishly take the wheels promising never to do this again – but the next morning, I would be at my BSDM best, telling her she is on the wrong gear or going too slow on the fast lane. Very soon, thereafter, she would be pulling over once again and the vacation mood would get sour for a few hours. I guess I can’t really blame my mil for being so perseverant for so many years, considering that my BSDM habit has not changed, though my wife too has driven across safely across many continents.

But BSDM has a different connotation when it comes to our daughters. The elder one got her license a couple of years back and has been driving by herself in the city she was studying. Yet when she was home, and driving my car, I always had a reason to practice my BSDM with her. The reasons (excuses) were many – she has not practiced lane driving or how chaotic Mumbai traffic is or driving an automatic SUV is different from a Nano. I guess she was happy enough to get a chance to drive my car. Having passed her teenage years successfully, she had learnt the skill of appearing to listen to her dad while actually not listening at all. Therefore, I guess my constant banter did not bother her (or so it seemed).

Recently, we set out on one of our long drives to Ratnagiri on the west coast. After about 3 hours into the drive, the inevitable and predictable happened – my wife stormed out of the driving seat, flushed with anger with my BSDM, went and occupied the back seat prematurely. I could see that my daughter was itching to get her hands on the wheels, so I handed over the keys to her. As a very caring and protective father, I advised her on navigating every curve of the perilous (in my mind) mountain range. Sometime later we stopped for a tea break. My wife had maintained a stony silence for the last 2 hours, so I thought it would be good idea if I sat behind and the mother-daughter duo sat in front.

It had been a long week at work. Also, we had left real early to beat the long weekend traffic leaving Mumbai. Before I knew, my eyes felt heavy and I could feel that I was drifting into a slumber. All I recall is that my eyes opening sporadically and intermittently with green trees whishing by or overtaking a long petrochemical laden tanker. It was only a couple of hours later, feeling hungry and properly rested that I woke up fully refreshed. And then it struck me like a bolt from the blue – that my daughter had driven by herself without me advising her constantly – she did not really need me anymore.

She was secure, confident and was able to go through the journey of life herself. It was indeed time to let her go on her own, knowing that she will be able to take care of herself and those around her well. I decided to let go of my BSDM habit.



I realized that my life is finite and I can take care of those whom I love for some time, but not their entire lifetimes. If I have helped them fly, I believe I have fulfilled a purpose of my life.

On our return journey, as was the norm, my wife took the wheels in the morning while I sat by her side. I was at peace with my new enlightenment and for the first time in 25 years, we did not have an unplanned interruption in the drive. I enjoyed the greenery, the meandering river streams and listened to my music. My daughter took over during the afternoon and she drove a couple of hundred miles without any guidance at all.

I feel so good about it. I feel proud of myself that I have been able to break my obnoxious BSDM habit and let others enjoy their drive through their lives. Unlike my mil, who is still addicted to it!!

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p.s. my younger daughter turned eighteen last year. Weekend mornings in the last couple of months were fun as I taught her to change gears and learn to drive. After clearing her driving test with the authorities, she received her permanent driving license today. She is now licensed to drive. But I really think she needs a little  bit of advice about multi lane driving, the chaotic traffic in Mumbai, an automatic SUV, treacherous mountain ranges….I guess I should guide her till she is confident. Should not I? A couple of years more of the BSDM habit would not hurt anyone. Would it??

Rains and Sunshine ...

My daughter, Mickey has a very conflicting relationship with rains. She loves the rains and thunderstorms – but the rains seem to disappear in the city she lives in! This story has repeated in the 15 years of her life. . So it was not very surprising that this year, Alexandria which normally has copious rains in Dec-Jan, suddenly seemed to have a very unusual dry, winter. During her Xmas break from school, having already spent a week at Alex without any rains, she would nag me daily asking for the heavy rains, she had seen during the first year here. I could do nothing much. Seeing an opportunity for a longish four day weekend coming up in the first week of January, we decided to take a break and make a trip to Beirut. I managed to obtain the visas and booked exorbitantly priced, last-minute flight tickets. Booked the hotel on the Internet, only one day before we were supposed to leave. I felt really pleased with myself that I could make all the arrangements for the trip in less than 7 days. The night before we were supposed to leave, I started browsing the Internet to plan the tour at Beirut. Out of curiosity, I checked the weather forecast. And that's when I got the shock of my life!! Since this was a last minute planned trip, clearly the Rain Gods were not aware about Mickey's trip to Beirut. The forecast indicated heavy rains and thunderstorms with 90% chances of precipitation!! I announced this to the family in a shocked and agonized tone. In spite of the ear phones preventing sound waves reaching her ear drums, Mickey seemed to read my lips and jumped up screaming, "Rains? Poppa, did you say thunderstorms?” Mickey's parched countenance suddenly appeared to resemble a rose garden, glowing and radiating. I looked at her with disbelief! "Does she not understand? How can she be so happy, that a family vacation would be spent in a hotel room, if it rained?" I made a mental note that we should speak to her school psychiatrist, once school reopened. I really had no choice. Since all the bookings were not refundable, we had to go ahead with the trip. I had the same feeling like a pilot who had to take his plane right into the thunderstorm, since there was no other alternative. And although, I have immense faith in miracles - I knew, it would be impossible for me to have the rain gods postpone their showers in Beirut - because if they did, probably the multi-million dollar weather forecasting industry would suffer a collapse. And with the world economy in such dire straits, I did not want to plunge it deeper into a crisis. I decided to sacrifice my vacation fun and not pray for miracles! But my wife, Benita, having been soaked in my omniscient discourses of "Positive Thinking" and Rhonda Byrne's "Secret", wanted to demonstrate that it can indeed deliver and dispel the dark clouds which were probably already gathering on the Mediterranean, miles from Beirut. So here I was, buffeted with Mickey's desire to have thunderstorms during the vacation and Benita's pragmatic and stoic wish that we have sunshine. Rain or Sunshine, was the question that dwelt on my mind, when we boarded the Egyptair flight to Beirut. When we landed at Beirut around noon, it was a gorgeous, beautiful day, as the weather pundits had predicted for the first day. We checked in and then went for a lovely walk, exploring the Corniche and later in the evening, were dazzled by the beauty of downtown Beirut. After savouring some delicious Lebanese cuisine at a cafe, we returned to the hotel. A glorious day indeed, but my thoughts were on the next 2 days! I spoke with the front desk about our plans for sightseeing. Fully aware of the bad weather forecast, neither they nor the car rental agency was pushing too hard. We were probably the only tourists in Beirut, on this expected stormy weekend. Nonetheless, I went ahead and booked the car and the agency gave me an unsolicited 20% discount, empathizing with our unlucky situation. Looking out of the hotel room window, I could see dark clouds gathering outside the horizon. Soon, there was a visible drizzle and by the time we went to bed, we could hear thunderstorms, much to Mickey's glee. I don't recall how many times I woke up to peep through the window blinds and also to check the latest weather forecast on the Internet. I finally fell asleep around 4 am, reconciled to the fact that the day would be a washout. When I woke up in the morning, I had a pleasant surprise, it had stopped raining. Although, it was overcast with grey clouds, the morning sun rays were peeping out behind a few clouds. Energized with this, we quickly had our breakfast and set out to the Jeita Grotto. We spent about an hour and a half in the amazing caves filled with stalagmites and stalactites. While walking out from the caves to our car, a slight drizzle began. And soon after, our entire enthusiasm got dampened with the heavy downpour that started. The sky was black and the raindrops created large drumbeats inside the Mercedes taxi. The next 2 events planned were outdoors and I realized we may just drive through and head back to the hotel. We reached Harissa and bought the tickets of the teleferique to take us to the top of the mountain, to the “Lady of Lebanon” church. And then again, a miracle happened! It abruptly stopped raining and bright sunshine burst through the clouds. We pulled down the windows of the cable car, to have a glorious view of the sea, the mountains and the city of Beirut. We then walked up to the church, basking ourselves in the brilliant sunshine, with two rainbows appearing in the horizon. We drove down to the heritage village of Byblos and spent a couple of hours walking amidst the ruins and the cobbled stones of the village. No sooner had we finished our visit to Byblos, the rain started coming down heavily again and we headed to the restaurant by the sea, for a late lunch. It rained all evening on our drive back to the hotel and the rest of the night. It was indeed a miracle - that it rained almost the entire day - but stopped for those many hours in between, when we were outdoors. We had really, thoroughly enjoyed every moment of the day. I had no clue what to do the next day, because no amount of positive thinking could change the forecast. Precipitation of about 50 mm was forecast (compared to 10 mm today) with thunderstorms. We cheered ourselves up by telling each other, that it would be fun to relax and lounge in the hotel room all day.... but within our hearts, we were not convinced. Just before breakfast, I went to the travel desk and impulsively booked a taxi to go the historical place of Baalbeck. The driver was not willing to go Cedar Forest, since he was apprehensive that the impending storm may bring snow and the road would be closed. We set out on this 2 hour drive which was so beautiful ...it was drizzling in between … as we started climbing up the mountains, the swirling mist kept draping the mountains in various shapes, which was a feast for the eyes. And then suddenly, much to our astonishment, we saw some white patches on the mountain we were in ...it turned out to be the season's first snowfall and we were right in it!! Mickey had asked for only the rains, but was so thrilled with this unexpected bonus of snow!!  We got off the car and Mickey made her first snow ball!! When we reached the ruins of Baalbeck, it was still drizzling. We were the only tourists in the magnificent ruins. A guide accosted us and took us on a tour, telling us the history, while we held on to our umbrellas with our numb and freezing hands. Listening to the history of the Romans and Pagan worship, seeing Cleopatra’s statue and other remnants, in the biting cold of 4 Celsius was an unique, fun filled experience. We started driving back, with a lot of anxiety, since the locals predicted that the road back to Beirut was likely to be closed due to the snowfall. But we made it before sundown and treated ourselves to a delicious lunch in an Indian restaurant, ‘Al Hind’. Exhausted and with our every sense totally satiated, the three of us exulted in the hotel room, while packing our bags, as to what a perfect holiday it had been! It is not the rain or sunshine that is the reason for our happiness … it is how we feel inside that makes the external circumstances irrelevant! I had believed in this before – this trip only reinforced it. Mickey enjoyed her rains and a special snowfall, Benita, her sunshine and mountain mist … and I the pleasure of seeing both of them so happy. Miracles do happen … it only depends on how strongly one desires it!

Home Alone

My right hand moves across the sofa to the side table, to pick up the glass of scotch. I savor a sip and feel the warmth inside. I continue to browse on my laptop, occasionally munching my favorite salted cashews. It is half past ten and I make myself another drink. The night is still young and I am in no hurry. In fact, my weekend trysts with Johnny Walker are relaxed and enjoyable as never before. Because, there are no reminders that, “Dinner is ready”  ... “No more drinks” ....”Enoughhhh, come to sleep”!! That’s because, I am HOME ALONE !!

It’s been almost 3 months since I have been staying alone at Alexandria. Binny and Mickey moved to Mumbai and I began my life as a forced bachelor.

When my kid brother heard about this arrangement, for some reason which I did not comprehend, he was very excited! He narrated a story of his friend who had recently moved to Mumbai while his family remained at Bangalore. This friend was having a time of his life, reading books, listening to music and in general having the time to do whatever he desired to do, without being chained by the responsibilities that a family brings. And most importantly, the friend used to boast about how he now received special treatment from his wife, when they met over weekends. Although my kid brother has 10 years of marital life less than me, I could notice that he was envious of the life I was about to start!

It’s been 3 days in a row that I have stayed back pretty late at office to complete some meetings with my colleagues. The meetings were extended and I was pushing for perfection and closure. I could see a few of my colleagues glance at their watches, occasionally. I had no anxiety building up about going home quickly! Why should I?? I was HOME ALONE !!

In the last three months, I have not been to Carrefour at the City Center mall. Earlier, at least once a week, I would display the countenance of a nonchalant hubby, who would dutifully tag behind his wife for shopping, displaying great interest in jewellery, home decorations, etc, which I had no understanding nor any inclination. My past few weekends have been at home, going for walks on the Corniche regularly, which I enjoy so much. Cos I am HOME ALONE!!

Taking care of the house and cooking is a definite challenge. But I have managed to upgrade my culinary skills to fix up a quick dinner or lunch. I have tried roast eggplant (aubergine) successfully, created quick chicken dishes, substituted “Balady bread” for parathas, and lived on corn flakes for a healthy start to a day. I have had the freedom to pick up anything from the food court downstairs, whenever and whatever I wished to. Cos I am HOME ALONE !!

I have the reputation of packing my stuff a few hours before we embark on any journey. My flight to Mumbai leaves 48 hours from now - I am taking a short break over the Eid holidays and weekend. But tonight I have my suitcase already fully packed. I am desperate to go home, like the days I was  in my hostel days, before the summer vacations.

I look forward to again chide Mickey for spending too much time on Facebook; I want to compliment her for getting excellent marks in English and Economics; to tease her and fight with her, cos she is growing up so fast and soon will be out of her teens; to make her cry when she does not understand my ancient methods of teaching maths. And prepare her favorite chicken dishes. Before she too takes wings like the elder one, living her own life.

I want to tag along with her and go shopping again, grimace when I see the price on the tags; I want to be nagged about smoking too much; I want to be around when she is not feeling well and gently care for her with my healing touch; want to compliment her on her delicious rawa idlis and dosa; long to have our morning tea together and rush back from a weary day at office to the place called HOME, knowing that someone is waiting for me.

I have always been a unsolicited adviser to my kid brother – will now tell him that his friend was actually putting up a charade of enjoying himself, cos he had noa choice. 

Just as I am, putting up a brave face of cherishing being HOME ALONE !!