FoHoH Reflections

by Tom, Seawood Why this post? I need not have written this. But being who I am, a boy from a remote village without much exposure to even cities could conquer the sky. What brought me here and what I sacrificed in the bargain is certainly worth being recorded. My Aunt Sr.Edwin, a nun, had tears in her eyes when I entered the aircraft, wearing a pilot’s uniform, and sat next to her with the boarding cards. We both did not talk or try to open a conversation. But I realized then that she didn’t want that journey to end. Even I wished the same. We both wanted to squeeze maximum time together from the little we had, as her malignant tumour had already crossed the point of no return. We both knew that her days with me were short. I understood the meaning of those tears of delight. She was the one who nurtured in me the ambition of becoming an airline pilot from a very young age. I recall growing up reading intriguing letters from my aunt Edwin, which prompted me to become a pilot. As a ...

  by Gitanjali, Bridgewood So, Dad was this total dude in his youth (spanning age 10 to 25 years). He was the stereotypical Mills & Boon hero – tall dark and handsome -    and he knew it! He had a way of winning over people, particularly the female gender, starting with his mom, sisters and sisters in law. He won them over with his charm and they in turn were generous with his pocket money. With cash in hand, our man was always dressed in the latest fashion, with a matching demeanor.       So, this is where my short story about him begins: His elder brother, a doctor in the Rangoon Railway Hospital, had a convertible car. Once parked in the hospital on duty, my uncle was busy for the rest of the day. Dad would stealthily open the hood of the convertible, jump in and drive out in style, smoking a pipe nonchalantly - even Gregory Peck would have looked like a poor cousin! He now had all the tools to impress, ahem, the girl friends! So off to the cinem...

  Post marriage I moved to Beijing with my husband. It was the autumn of year 2007 and Beijing was gearing for it’s 2008 Olympics. The city was undergoing a massive facelift. With China’s infrastructure booming, Beijing went on to become a world class venue for the 2008 Olympic. Perhaps this was also the time when China saw a huge influx of foreigners. I used to feel awkward when people would abruptly stop me and ask me for a picture with them or their child. A lot of people would start talking to me in Chinese totally oblivious that I didn’t understand their language. I badly wanted to respond to them and so I got myself enrolled for a Chinese language course. I can’t say that I did exceptionally well at the language school but I was able to express myself to a few people around me. This made the locals quite happy. Within few years I managed to make basic conversations with aunties, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, parents of my daughter’s friends, nanny, maid, shopkeeper, etc. Th...

#by Gitanjali, Bridgewood-A Dad was a heavy smoker and whenever Mom nagged him to give up smoking, he would tell her that she should have met him when he was a 7th Grader! Wow, he really started young! In fact, he graduated from school to college in style – for now our man had a pipe in hand! The story goes that Dad was smoking a pipe and sitting on the front seat of a bus (Readers, these activities were allowed in 1940s’ Burma), when his father boarded the same bus from the rear. Dad quickly stuffed his hand (and the pipe) into his trouser pocket. On reaching home, he had a hard time explaining to his Mom how he managed to get a perfectly circular burn mark on his palm!  By the time my parents got married, Dad was a confirmed chain smoker, lighting one cigarette with the other – a fact stamped and sealed by the sneaky office peon. During his Shillong posting, Dad was ordered to go to an unknown destination, accessible only by helicopter. The weather played spoilsport with heavy ra...

#by Gitanjali, Bridgewood A  Kids growing up in military regiments are often referred to as “military brats” but my story refers to The Indian Air Force where my father served as a Meteorological Officer, in short, ‘the weather man’. That's me with an aircraft just landing behind our house. The balloon I am blowing is hoisted up a pole to show the direction of the wind for the meteorological officer to forecast the weather!  So, all his ‘postings’ were at ‘flying stations’. The most impressionable stint for me was our 4 years in Jorhat. Impressionable, because I was between the age of 4 to 8 years, and I was “home schooled” during this period. Apparently, I was attending a play school in Agra when we were tossed across the country to Jorhat. Mom was the only lady in the camp and I was the only child. All other officers preferred to leave their families behind but my mother would countenance no such decision by my father.  A journey to Jorhat meant crossing the Brahma...