Falling in love with Central Park

Visit to the Doctor

Last Monday, I had to visit a Hematologist. During some routine tests, my GP had found some readings out of whack, and while he believed there wasn’t anything to worry about, he wanted a specialist to take a look and confirm. I therefore found myself at the reception desk of the NYC Cancer Center on 34th Street, at 1:45 in the afternoon. The medical assistant efficiently confirmed my information, checked me in, and handed me an appointment sheet and a file that I was to take to the Seventh Floor.

The elevator disgorged me onto a small and crowded waiting room. The place was full of people. Most of them old people. Several of them with thinning or no hair. The atmosphere in the room was thick with gloom. The nurses were curt to the point of being rude to some patients. An old lady was being berated for showing up a week early for her appointment. She looked confused, and tried to dissemble when the nurse finally came to get her: “I wanted so badly to see you that I came a week early,” she said. I felt like putting an arm around her and telling her it was okay. I must confess I began to feel some slight trepidation.

The doctor himself came for me about 35 minutes late. In a quiet voice he said “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Ganapathy.” Dr. Moskovits was a balding, middle aged man with a dry manner. We walked back to his office, and as he was going to start, he was joined by another doctor who sat through the interview. I began to wonder, “Why does he need two doctors to confirm a routine diagnosis?” – I think I’m becoming a hypochondriac.

As the interview proceeded my anxiety only grew. The most routine question, when asked in that serious, dry, tone took on the most menacing implications. 

“Have you had any scratching or itching?” 

“No.” 

Then I pause to think. Oh, oh… “Yeah I’ve been scratching, but it’s just dryness in this cold weather. It goes away after I apply cream.” I finally get a wan smile “Yes, we have a lot of that here in this weather.”

“Have you lost weight recently?”

“Yes, but I’ve been exercising.” I pause -- I used to exercise regularly in California too. Then why have I lost seven pounds in seven weeks? “It could be because I’ve been walking a lot more than I used to in California,” I try to explain weakly.

He completes his interview, examines me in another room, orders a battery of blood tests, and asks me to call him in a week. I return to the clinic later to have my blood drawn. The tests that have been ordered seem special – the technician has to call a couple of people before he understands what’s required and how it should be entered into the computer. He then proceeds to fill about 12 to 15 vials with my blood, which doesn’t do anything to reduce my anxiety.

I spend the next one week worrying. I begin to read up my symptoms at Webmd.com and Wikipedia. That doesn't help much.

I promptly call the doctor on Monday and get his assistant. I leave a message, but don't hear back, so I call again the next day. I get the assistant again, and leave another message. The doctor finally calls me back on Tuesday evening.

"All your tests came back fine. We don't know why your platelet count is borderline." he says. "We'll test again in a few months, but there's nothing to worry about." I breathe a sigh of relief. I then read an article in a recent Newsweek where this vegan talks about how his diet makes doctors suspect cancer every few years. I'm not vegan, but that sums up what seems to have happened in this case too.

An uneventful week

The week was uneventful enough, with a few meetings around mid-town, and some friends who came home with their children on Friday evening. This friend, another classmate from business school, was a high-flying banker at one of the bulge-bracket investment banks before he got laid off recently, and he was using this time to think about his future options. There’s no doubt that we’re seeing the impact of the economic crisis in very personal ways – everywhere one looks, someone we know has been laid off. His wife is a Surgeon in the New York City hospital system and they live in a lovely apartment that they own, half a block from Central Park, a few blocks north of the Met. Truly, a dream location.

Sketching animals at the Museum of Natural History

 On Saturday, we had brunch and headed out to the Museum of Natural History. Dhruv loves drawing only a little less than he loves animals, so we packed his drawing materials and lots of paper into a backpack, and caught the M16 across town.

At the Museum, we headed straight for the African Animals exhibit, where I sketched a Buffalo, Eland, Lion, Cheetah, Leopard and Tiger. Tourists milled around us, camera in hand, not pausing to enjoy the dioramas or enjoy the scene the artist had created for them. They say many people go on vacations to photograph and videograph things so that they can see them later. A lot of people around us sure seemed that way. 

I continue to be thankful for this opportunity to spend quality time at these great museums. At lunch with a friend on Friday, a New York native, she said she was pleasantly surprised by how active we had been in the past eight weeks. As a native, she often took these things for granted, while we were living life with the assumption that our stay here was going to be limited to one year. This friend is going to India on vacation in a few weeks, and has been to the Taj a few times. I lived in Delhi for several years, and have yet to see the Taj!!

Another perspective on Central Park

After we got out of the Museum, it was a fine day, so we decided to walk to Central Park and spend some time there. We entered at around 79th street, and got a completely different perspective on the park. Central park continues to fascinate us. While the concept of a green lung in the heart of a city is not new, the way New York has done it is fantastic. On good weather days, the place is teeming with lots of people – folks walking dogs, children playing, cyclists and joggers working out a sweat…

Dhruv loves climbing the rocks in Central Park, and we watched him clamber all over one set, and enjoyed the view. The sight of the tall skyscrapers of Manhattan in the background, with a lake, trees and rock in the foreground, is really something to be experienced. I didn’t have a camera with me, but took a few grainy pictures with my Blackberry, to record the moment.

We then walked on, and came upon a small crowd of people by the side of a road. We peeked in and saw they were arranged around a jazz band, waiting for the band to resume playing. A few minutes later, the band leader shouted out to someone in the crowd, and convinced him, a random bystander, to join them on the guitar. 

The band wasn’t bad, with the leader sometimes playing two trumpets at the same time. In addition, there was an electric guitar, drum and double bass. We stayed for three or four numbers, and thoroughly enjoyed it – perhaps the setting and ambience made a normally mediocre band sound good.

We walked along towards Columbus Avenue, and on the way we came upon a couple of African Drummers doing their thing near the Sheep Meadow. Sandhya and I recently saw “The Visitor”, an Indie movie that won Richard Jenkins an Oscar nomination for his role in it. Set in Manhattan, it has this wonderful scene of 15-20 African drummers beating out a hypnotic rhythm in Central Park. These two drummers are perhaps a precursor of what’s to come in the summer, and we look forward to attending in person.

We’re beginning to understand why New Yorkers are crazy about the park, and why rents and property prices in the close vicinity of the park are so sky-high. We’ve recently been asking ourselves where we’d live if we were to move within Manhattan. While we love Waterside because there’s so much to do within our own little community, I think staying close to the park might be high on our list of criteria if we were to look for alternates.

Winding down

When we returned, Sandhya and Dhruv went to call on our Pakistani neighbors. Their Indian daughter-in-law and granddaughter were visiting from Connecticut, and Dhruv played there for a while and Sandhya made a new friend. Dhruv and I went for a short swim thereafter.

Sunday was a foggy and rainy day, so we stayed indoors. Ramesh, Charu and their kids stopped by in the afternoon, and we spent several hours playing Uno, Pictionary, and a couple of new games that they had brought. 

Continuing the celebration

Continuing music lessons

On Monday evening, Dhruv and I had our music lessons. Dhruv goes first, from 5:00 – 5:30, and I go from 5:30 – 6:30. I’m really happy with the progress that I’ve made in the last few weeks. In two lessons, I’ve mastered Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”, playing it well with both hands. The exercise I was given this week was to learn pieces from Diabelli’s “Theme” and Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake”. I’m happy to report that I did have them down pat and played them smartly at the beginning of the lesson. Of course, Michael always finds ways to mess with me and burst my little bubble of confidence.

“That’s staccato. You have to play Legato,” he’ll say. And then the next time round I’ll try to concentrate on playing Legato and make mistakes.

When I have both hands working properly in unison, he’ll say, “You have to press the right foot-pedal at the beginning of each section.” And thinking about that will throw all my carefully practiced coordination into a tizzy.

He’s given me “Barcarolle,” the song of Venetian Gondoliers this week. There are two pages of music, and I’ve worked hard at getting it. I’m certainly a slow learner, but I think I’ve figured out a technique to learn a new piece of music, and that’s worked this time.

Visiting Dhruv in School

Tuesday was ‘Open Day’ in Dhruv’s school. Parents were free to stop by the class any time during the day to watch the proceedings. I had a meeting in midtown at 2:00 pm, so I decided to leave home a little early, spend 30 minutes in his class, and then proceed to my meeting. I came into the class as they were finishing up their snack. Dhruv had his back to me when I entered, but one of the other kids saw me and asked in a loud voice, “Who’s that?” and another kid guessed correctly: “That’s Dhruv’s Dad”. That’s the advantage of being only one of two Indian kids in class. Dhruv turned towards me and trying hard not to show too much emotion, just smiled at me. I waved and smiled back.

The snack over, the kids cleaned up and sat down cross-legged for ‘word study’. Dhruv had Manon (the same girl who told him that she loved him in his first week there) sitting next to him, and she was constantly peering over his shoulder at his sheet of paper. I was happy to see that Dhruv would raise his hand when the teacher asked, finished his work on time (we’ve been worried that in an effort to form the letters perfectly, he writes very slowly) and was on top of things. I can understand why his teacher is full of praise and loves him. It was fascinating to watch Dhruv in a different environment – I don’t think my parents ever had such an opportunity when I went to school in India. They could only imagine what their son was doing for 8 hours of the day; we have these occasional opportunities to peek behind the curtain.

Celebrating St. Patrick's Day

Tuesday was St. Patrick’s Day, and while New Yorkers don’t need an excuse to party, an excuse means they can start early. On my way to my meeting I saw hundreds of revelers on the streets, dressed in the most outrageous green outfits, some of them quite high as early as 2 in the afternoon. Several streets were closed due to the Parade, and that made traffic quite horrible. I was surprised to find my client, a Vice President at a large Investment Firm, wearing a light-green shirt. I could only point to the slightest shade of green on my tie.

Kala, Sandhya’s cousin Vivek, Sandhya and I went out to celebrate around 8 pm. We had asked Maria, an older Ukranian lady who lives in building 40, to come in. Dhruv seems to be getting used to the routine and quite enjoys being with a sitter. Maria apparently even read him a book, which he promptly put on his reading log.

We first walked to Union Square, and went to the Heartland Brewery. The place was surprisingly empty for St. Patrick’s Day evening, and we got a nice table. We tried some of the local brews, which turned out to be excellent. We ordered some appetizers to fortify ourselves, but didn’t stay long – the place was too quiet – we wanted something noisier.

We found what we were looking for down 14th Street – the Blind Pig Pub had a noisy crowd overflowing outside, and promised live ‘Irish’ music within. We paid the cover charge and made our way in to a noisy, crowded pub full of young yuppie-types in various shades of green. The ‘Celtic Cross’ band was playing, and we ordered another round of beers for ourselves. Sandhya and Kala even managed to find a place to sit. The music wasn’t bad – the band had a lot of Celtic instruments, but played music from all over the map, including ‘I Shot the Sherriff.’ It was odd to hear Celtic Reggae!

We left the Blind Pig and hailed a cab, and as I was getting in, I noticed that Vivek had a glass of whiskey in his hand – and he had been drinking beer!

“Where’s that from?” I asked.

“The only Indian girl in the pub bought me this,” he replied.

“Then what’re you doing coming home with us?”

He grinned sheepishly. Sandhya and Kala almost stopped the cab and sent him back, but resisted it because he protested so loudly.

Meeting at the Met and the Big Question

Franco Gonsalves, a former colleague, was in town on Thursday, and he was spending it at the Met. Since I had a meeting with someone on the Upper East Side, I offered to meet him at the Café in the basement of the Met. Over coffee I was waxing eloquent about the impressionist collection at the Met when I got stopped by the Big Question: “Which Museum is better? This one or the Musée d’Orsay?” I must confess I felt a twinge of disloyalty when I hedged “I think they’re both great museums – I haven’t decided if one is ‘better’” but reflecting on it later, I must say I may just be slightly inclined towards the Musée. Now we have to live in Paris next!

It was a special feeling to casually walk into one of the greatest museums of the world, walk past some breathtaking collections to the café, and then to leave without looking (Franco asked me to help him find the Vermeers, so I did take a peek).

Lunch at Jaiya Thai

On Friday, Kala and Sandhya asked me to take a break and join them for lunch at Jaiya Thai, on Third Avenue. We had had Jaiya’s food at Sonia’s placed before, and it is easily the best Thai food that we’ve had in the US. Going there with Kala was a bold move on Sandhya’s part, since Kala owns a place in Thailand and knows her Tom Yums from her Pad Thais. While the Papaya salad was disappointing, everything else was excellent – and Kala said so too.

Brunch at Schiller's

Kala was leaving back to the Bay Area on Saturday, but her flight was in the afternoon, so we decided to go to Schiller’s Liquor Bar for Brunch. I must confess to being rather skeptical, given the name, but the recommendations were so strong that we went. The neighborhood turned out really seedy – lots of graffiti painted walls and chain-link fenced empty lots. The front of the restaurant itself was worse – a glass and wrought iron door guarded a dirty tiled floor that had “Liquor Bar” patterned into the tiles. We opened the second door to a room with an old saloon-style bar, and chairs and tables arranged all around. The mirrors on the walls were long past their glory, and a layer of dust seemed to have settled on any available horizontal surface. We looked at each other again, sure we had come to the wrong place. As we were being seated, we asked the waiter “You do serve brunch, don’t you?” Even after he confirmed, Sandhya asked him again “and you’re famous for your Sticky Toffee Pudding, right?” He smiled and nodded again. He probably gets this reaction a lot.

The brunch was superb – we had Omelets, Huevos Rancheros and Waffles. The servings were small, and served with really tasty house fries. The girls had Martinis too – at 11 in the morning. After all, Kala doesn’t visit every other day… Just to be gluttonous, we ordered a second omelet, and then finished it off with the famous Sticky Toffee Pudding. An excellent end to Kala’s week with us – a week which has been marked by our cutting a cake to celebrate her Birthday (which was in Jan) several times.

Visiting Juilliard

After seeing Kala off in a taxi, we decided to get out of the house and go to the Lincoln Center. This massive complex of institutions houses the famous Juilliard School of Music, and we found that they had an amazing calendar of free concerts throughout the month. At 4 pm there was a Violin / Piano concert as part of the ‘Pre-College Series’, and we decided to try to catch that. We got off the #1 subway line and walked down West 65th Street to the school. As were entered the lobby, and walked up the steep flight of stairs to the reception, we saw large groups of young adults milling about, each one with a different instrument strung over their shoulders. The creative energy that one could sense was probably what makes Juilliard what it is.

The concert was in one of the halls downstairs, and we were a bit early. The violinist and her piano accompanist were going through their pre-concert drills. As they left, we were alone, and I took the opportunity to walk up to the grand piano – and as I had hoped, it was a Steinway. Vivek and I had been scratching our heads for the name of the famous Piano manufacturer with an “S” and couldn’t remember it for the life of us. This was the first time I was seeing a Steinway up close and it certainly looked special. I had to hold myself back from getting too close.

On balance, maybe we shouldn’t have gone. The pre-college program at the Juilliard is for talented young children who are not yet eligible to enroll for Undergraduate programs at the Juilliard. The girl who played the Violin must’ve been 15. Watching her play made me realize how long the journey is. It’s a bit like an Everest mountaineer walking through the Khumbu icefall. If he looks straight ahead at the next step he has to take, he’s fine. If he looks up at the towering peak above him, he’ll likely get intimidated. I’ve looked up – now I have to get back and concentrate on Barcarolle.

Lazy Sunday

We had friends over for dinner on Thursday evening and on Friday, so this has been a week of almost unending partying. We had planned to go to Columbia on Sunday, and have lunch with a friend of a friend. Dhruv woke with a fever, and we decided against pushing our luck, and stayed home. I spent a lot of time working on Barcarole, and think I may have figured it out. I’ve also reconciled myself that I just don’t have what it takes to be in Juilliard. Perseverance? Yes. Talent? Certainly not.

A big week

This is been a big week -- work-wise. On Monday, we made an announcement that I was taking over as the CEO of Gridstone Research, the company that I cofounded 3 1/2 years ago. This has been in the works for a few weeks now, and that was the reason for my being rather busy. In keeping with the mores of these times, we made the announcement via a blog post. My colleague and co-founder, Basab Pradhan, the previous CEO -- also posted on his blog. Unfortunately, after several nice messages, the discourse began to get pretty nasty, and he had to turn comments off on his blog. It always surprises me how normally civil people feel no hesitation to behave indecently when they are safely behind the anonymity of the Web.

I posted a link to the announcement to FaceBook, and was quite surprised how many people noticed and congratulated me. Thanks, everyone!!

On Wednesday, I had an early meeting at the le Parker Meredien hotel in Midtown. My meeting was at the Knave, a coffee shop just off the lobby on the ground floor. It was a nice discovery -- very quiet and just perfect for a quiet business discussion. The Espresso with steamed Breve that I had was also excellent (a great formula for South Indian coffee in America, complements to my cousin Maha). I must make it a point to bookmark this place for future business meetings.

Since I was in the area, Sandhya asked me to stop by Times Square to pick up tickets for the Lion King. We have been lucky and got excellent seats in the first week of April for a show on Saturday afternoon. We're all looking forward to it, and I hope Dhruv enjoys it. He loves the movie. There are some people who've told us that children often either get scared, or don't appreciate the abstract nature of the performance -- I don't know which way it’s going to be with Dhruv.

On Friday, I had a business lunch with an old colleague and potential client, at this excellent Indian restaurant on 51st St. -- Amma. It's a small hole in the wall, and in fact you enter from the entrance to an apartment building. While it is small, the food was excellent -- and also quite innovative. More importantly, unusually for an Indian restaurant, the food was extremely well presented. The sort of place that you can take a client without breaking the bank or feeling embarrassed.

Our good and close friend from California, Kala Swaminathan, flew into town on Saturday. Sandhya had taken off for a grand reunion with some old high school friends -- and so Dhruv and I took the subway to the airport to pick her up. We got there comfortably enough -- although on a weekend the E line was not as fast as it was when I went on a weekday (it’s an Express on weekdays). We took a taxi back instead of subjecting her to another trip on public transit.

Since Kala was in town, we had asked a babysitter to come in on Saturday evening, and left Dhruv with her to spend an evening out. We had reservations at the famous Café Wha? at 9:30 PM, and decided to spend an hour or so at MacDougall Street before the time for our reservation. The two ladies dressed to kill, and we set off.

We first grabbed an excellent pita sandwich at Mamoun's Falafel -- a little dive of a place where not more than three people can stand at any given time. In fact, we had to stand outside to eat, but the food was excellent and totally worth it. One piece of advice – don’t try the hot sauce. It’s really hot – even by my ‘Indian’ standards. Not feeling satisfied, we then went to the Kathi roll company for a Kathi roll each. Suitably fed, we then walked over to Café Wah so that we could get good seats in time for the show.

We got really nice seats close enough to the brand, but not so close that we would be deafened by the music and ordered some appetizers and drinks. They had this really odd rule -- we had to sit across the table from each other, and so Sandhya and Kala got to face the band, while I got to see the band on TV. There was also this other odd rule -- the waiter had to give us a little slip before we could leave the place, for example - to make a call (there’s no cell phone coverage in the place). It seemed like people sneak out without paying their bills, and the slip system is to ensure that they can’t do that. The band was top class, as advertised. I can't say I enjoyed the standup comedy piece as much but the music was so "our generation" that the evening turned out thoroughly enjoyable. Given how crowded it was, we had to share our table with five other people – two girls and a guy, and a couple. We initially thought that the guy was with one of the girls and the other was her sister, but as the evening progressed, the band asked people to get up and dance. The way the Guy was dancing with the ‘sister’ left us in no doubt that she wasn’t that. Enough said.

We left at about 11:30 PM, and walked to La Lanterna -- which was up the street a block -- for dessert. La Lanterna is an Italian restaurant with a very nice indoor garden and an excellent assortment of Desserts. We were greeted by someone who seemed like the owner – an older gentleman with a thick Italian accent. He made it a point to compliment me on my good fortune to have the company of two beautiful women on an excellent night – which caused me to beam from ear to ear. Both desserts that we ordered -- Pecan Pie and Ice Cream and Caramel Custard -- were superb and drew an excellent evening to a perfect close.

On Sunday morning, we walked to "Ess-a-bagel" nearby -- to have breakfast. This place prides itself on the quality of its bagels, and refuses to toast them. I had an egg on an onion bagel which turned out to be quite substantial, and really tasty. It was interesting to watch the ebb and flow of the patrons at the store -- they seem to come in waves, and at the peak of the wave it was almost difficult to find standing room. Lots of people seem to just stop by to pick up bagels and then take them home; some of them were even still in their pajamas. I'm thinking seriously of getting a bike -- we have such excellent eating options within a five block radius that keeping the bike will mean that I can just ride over, pick up stuff and get back home.

From there, we walked down to 14th St. and caught the subway to Central Park. We entered the park close to Seventh Avenue and Dhruv spent a happy couple of hours climbing up and down the rocks in that area and playing in the children's playground. I had an interesting experience where a child, who I had noticed earlier, was sobbing copious tears. On my asking him why, he told me that he seemed to have lost his parents. I had noticed his parents earlier -- an African-American gentleman and a Caucasian lady -- and I saw them some distance away, lost to the world in passionate embrace. I took the sobbing child over to them and they were all considerably relieved.

We then walked over to the eastern edge of the park -- were Dhruv found another little play area to play in. Sandhya and Kala waited for a friend of Kala's and then promptly proceeded to ditch Dhruv and I -- and go off shopping down Fifth Avenue. We took the bus home. It was projected to be nice and warm, but it had actually gotten quite cold.

Sandhya's nephew came over to stay with us that evening. It is funny how our guests seem to come in waves -- it was exactly when Kavitha was visiting that Priya Sehgal arrived from India. It was exactly now, when Kala is visiting, that we have a couple of additional guests -- and have had to borrow an air bed from Sonia -- for the guests.

All told, quite a busy week - first the transition to a new job role for me, then a really active weekend with Kala being in town. Sorry it's taken me some time to write this post, but get ready for another one soon.

Taking a break

My first music lesson

On Wednesday evening, I went upstairs for my first music lesson. I'm glad I showed up promptly at 6 PM, which Michael suitably appreciated. His small one bedroom apartment had a nice view of the East River and an electronic piano against one wall. Because Sandhya was out, I took Dhruv along and he was quite amused to see that his father was going to be a student. Michael put something on the TV for him, and he was occupied for the rest of the evening.

Michael is a short and avuncular bespectacled gentleman in his mid-60s, with a very thick Russian accent. He was born in St. Petersburg and studied at the conservatory there for many years before becoming a solo performer in the erstwhile Soviet Union. It seems as if his son is a chiropractor in New York, and that's probably what brought him here. As I walked into the apartment, arranged on a table, were several bottles of choice Russian alcohol, with little shot glasses beside them. Seeing that, I did a double take and noticed Michael's eyes twinkle mischievously. There's probably a party animal lurking underneath the gruff exterior, and I can imagine him regaling folks at a party with colorful and off-color jokes after having knocked back a few. I should convince Sandhya to invite him over some time.

I had been looking at Dhruv's lessons and practicing before the first lesson, and therefore could do the basic exercises that Michael first put me through very easily. He said my fingers, which are long and thin, are good for the piano, especially in contrast to his own stubby little fingers. When I demonstrated "Ode to Joy" passably enough with one hand, he started making me play the left hand too. I must confess that for an old man that was quite a bit of work for one's brain, a bit like rubbing your head and patting your stomach at the same time. I hope with practice it becomes easier than it was that first evening. The hour passed by quickly enough and before I realized it, our time was up. It was only when I was putting on my jacket and preparing to leave that I realized how mentally fatigued I was, perhaps from the intense concentration that it takes at this beginning level.

On balance I couldn't have asked for more. A music teacher who seems quite nice, lives within the same building 10 floors up, and is flexible enough to accommodate a busy working schedule -- what more could one want? I hope I can find time to practice, without which all the time, effort and money will be wasted.

What I have been able to do these last several days, is set aside an hour of "personal time" every morning. On alternate days, I use that time to work-out in the gym downstairs, and on other days I have started using that time to practice. 

There has been an interesting side effect to this exercise of taking up the piano; Dhruv has been considerably agitated to see me play better than he does. It reached a point in fact, where he said he was going to stop taking piano lessons or play the piano, because he was “not good”. It took considerable charm and coaxing before I could get him back on the piano to practice. It could be his natural competitiveness -- and because he didn't have anyone to benchmark against, he's never had to face this before. I can see this is going to be troublesome, and I'm scratching my head on how to deal with it.

Meetings downtown

I've had a few meetings downtown this week, and coincidently both of them were with companies that were on the 49th floor of their respective buildings. Quite obviously, the view from up there is spectacular. Since both of them faced midtown Manhattan, I made it a point to look for Waterside Plaza, and found it without any effort. It was then that I realized that the buildings at Waterside are quite a bit taller than most of the buildings in the area, and therefore stand out.

Meeting friends

Neil Lamba was in town again, and Sandhya and I went over to his hotel room for a drink. We have seen him thrice in the past five weeks, and I'm beginning to understand what life as an airline captain can be like. Not only is it not fun to be separated from the family frequently, but time during layovers can be extremely boring. You're almost perpetually jetlagged, are cooped up in a small hotel room, and there's a limit to how much you can shop. 

As someone with a keen interest in flying, I've always wondered what it would be like and whether I would be cut out for that sort of thing. I hate travel because of the separation from the family, and the boredom in the hotel room would definitely kill me. On top of that the professional demands to stay abreast of all the complexity involved in flying modern high performance jet aircraft, and the demands of constantly maintaining a perfect medical condition (which is tested every six months) means that this is easily one of the least understood and highly underappreciated professions that I know. Hats off to those of you who do it for a living, and if there's any way we your friends can make it easier on you, please let us know; it will be an honor and a pleasure.

Ramesh and Meenakshi, both classmates from business school, married to each other, who live in Bombay, were passing through New York and we decided to use the occasion to host a mini get together of my business school class. Sonia and JV dropped in for a drink but did not stay for dinner. Since Ramesh and Meenakshi came home straight from the airport, a little early, he and I went for a walk along the East River. We walked past the 34th St. heliport and up to the end of the promenade. It was a busy Friday evening, with a helicopter landing or taking off every five minutes. There were several boats and barges on the river and we saw several commuters getting on board water ferries.

Lazy Saturday

The weather this Saturday was fantastic. It was projected to be in the high 60s or low 70s, which was the highest it’s been since we came here. We should've used the day to get out, but for some reason Dhruv was adamant that he did not want to leave the apartment. JV called me late in the morning, asking me whether I would be interested in going to the Intrepid Museum. The USS Intrepid is a decommissioned aircraft carrier that is moored on the Hudson, and is now a very impressive museum containing several retired military aircraft, and I believe even the Concorde. I would really have liked to go, but it was impossible to convince Dhruv. I guess he's suffering from an overdose of activity, especially Museum visits. The poor kid.

While practicing the piano at my window, I saw several children playing downstairs in the Plaza, and to avoid wasting the evening we decided to go down for a walk. There is a long walkway along the East River bordering the FDR, and we walked southward along it. The sun was setting, bathing the city in a wonderful pink glow. The river curves slightly and gives one a wonderful perspective on the buildings in midtown Manhattan. The Empire State building to start with on the left going all the way over to the Trump Tower and the UN building on the right with the Citibank tower and the Chrysler building in between. Waterside Plaza dominates the foreground with its tall four buildings. I regret not taking my camera; at some level I guess I didn't want to be seen like "a tourist". The walkway was full of joggers and bicyclists, a few in-line skaters, and several skateboarders. A nice little discovery where we didn't expect to find one.

Brooks Brothers Shopping

While riding in a cab during the week, on "Taxi TV" I had seen an advertisement for a sale at Brooks Brothers. If clothes make the man, there is no store that I like more than Brooks Brothers. I'm a firm believer that one's clothes should be conservatively cut, not flashy, and shouldn't say a thing. Almost everything I find at Brooks Brothers meets those criteria. But I can't afford their things most of the time, and so the prospect of a sale was particularly thrilling.

The weather on Sunday was nice enough, but a certain lethargy had set in by that time. I figured that if Sunday was the last day of the sale, anything that was reasonably nice, or my size, would probably be gone. We were scheduled to have lunch with some friends at Pongal, a South Indian restaurant at Lexington Avenue and 28th St., at around noon. If Sandhya had not goaded me, I would probably not have gone. 

We took a cab to the store, which is at the intersection off Madison Avenue and 44th St. We walked in off the street to a store that was done up in the impeccable style of Brooks Brothers. However, as I walked in I saw many a raised eyebrow as if to say "Did you lose your way?" or "look what the cat dragged in". I asked one of the helpers where the section for sports coats was, and was directed to the third floor. The store seemed surprisingly empty for a sale, and I put it down to the state of the economy. We looked around, and didn't find anything that we liked, and the prices didn't seem so great either. I was wondering whether we were at the wrong store. Then Sandhya saw a small curving staircase in one corner of the top floor and decided to take a look -- and boy what a completely different world it was, on the top floor. It was bustling with people, the prices were just incredible and to my pleasant surprise I found some very nice coats and suits that fit me perfectly. I have always dreamed of owning a Brooks Brothers suit bought at the store in Manhattan, and I'm happy to say, that dream has been fulfilled (even if it was at a sale).

While the suit needed some alteration, I walked out with a sports coat -- and then headed off to lunch at Pongal. The most logical way to get there was to take the Number 6 train from Grand Central Station. Sandhya commented that it's only in New York that one buys a Brooks Brothers suit and then catches the Number 6 train to lunch at a South Indian restaurant.

Pongal lunch

I'd last eaten at Pongal several years ago, and remember it for the decor being not that great, but the food being exceptional. I'm happy to report that the decor is much better and the food is still excellent. In addition, I found that the service was excellent -- efficient, but also very friendly. The friends we were having lunch with -- Ramesh "Enthu" Srinivasan and his wife Charuta -- make it a point to have lunch there every Sunday afternoon with their kids. We got there a bit early and asked for a table for seven and waited for them to join us. When the waiter realized that we were waiting for another four people -- two kids and two adults -- he asked us, "are you waiting for the family with a boy and a girl who have lunch here every Sunday?" That's the sort of friendliness I haven't found an Indian restaurant in a long time.

Playing in the park

The food was so good that we over ate (obviously), and so we decided to walk it off. While walking around in the area, the kids discovered a quiet little park at the intersection of second Avenue and 30th St. The park had a play gym and the kids were immediately running up and down and sliding down the slide. There were a few benches on the side, and we sat down to watch them. Ramesh and I were busy chatting about work and other things, when we suddenly saw two NYPD policemen walk into the park and begin collecting IDs from the adults who were sitting on the benches. 

As they approached us, I was just getting ready to give them my ID when one of them asked us "Are you here with children, Sir?" 

"Yes," I replied.

"Can you point them out for me please?" 

I pointed out the kids, counting “One-two-three”. 

He said "Thank You" and then walked away. 

Ramesh and I looked at each other with a "What was that about?" look on our faces. Charuta came along to explain that New York City rules are that adults not accompanied by children are not allowed inside most children's parks. I thought that the policeman was simply running IDs to make sure that none of the people in the park were known predators. But Charuta's explanation intrigued me, and so I went outside to read the park rules. Sure enough, the first rule said that the park rules prohibit "adults not accompanied by a child". It seemed like the adults who were in the park without a child were given a citation. Sandhya expressed unqualified relief, saying that she now felt safer about Dhruv playing in a park in New York City. I am not yet so sure.

Has it been just five weeks?

It’s difficult to believe that it’s been just five weeks since we moved. We’ve done such a lot since then that it seems like ages. I guess I have to thank New York City for welcoming us so quickly and making us feel at home.

Quick Boston Trip

The week began with a bang, work-wise – with a series of meetings and web-demos and a short half-day trip to Boston. I had lunch in Midtown at the Salute Grill on Tuesday, and had to be in Boston for a meeting in the evening, and decided to use the La Guardia-Boston shuttle for what it is – a shuttle. For those of you who don’t know what this it – it’s a fascinating concept that is unique to Boston-New York and Washington DC. There’s a flight every half hour, alternately operated by US Airways and Delta. One of them is on the hour, and the other is on the half hour. Everything is set up to maximize speed and efficiency. I got into a cab in Midtown at around 1:20, and was in the Marine Air Terminal by 1:40, without a ticket or a reservation. I checked www.delta.com on my Blackberry on the way to the airport, and figured I could catch the 2:30 (I wasn’t bold enough to try the 2:00, but may have been able to make it). I walked up to a kiosk, swiped my card and bought a ticket, printed my boarding pass, and was taking my shoes off in the security line at 1:45. The flight pushed back right on time, and 35 minutes later, we were descending into Boston. It was a spectacularly clear day, and I got a lovely view of Providence, Rhode Island, hundreds of ice-covered lakes, and all of Boston.

The cabbie who picked me up for the ride to my meeting, which was in the suburbs, waited there for me, and I was back in the airport by 6:40 to just barely catch the 7:00 pm flight back. While I napped most of the flight back, I’m glad I was awake for the last phase, because we were routed at a comfortable 4000-odd feet all the way down the Hudson, around the Statue of Liberty, up the East River, and then for a curved approach into La Guardia. It’s quite something to have an Airbus 319 make a sharp turn a few hundred feet above the old Citi Field to line up with the runway – more like something I’d do in my Cessna 150. The view out of the window of Manhattan at night is something that one can never tire of seeing. Towards the end, Waterside Plaza was clearly visible just outside my window, I could’ve almost reached out and touched it. If you’re ever taking the Boston-LGA shuttle at night, make sure you sit on the left side to get this view.

Dhruv comes home from school

On Monday, we got a call from school to say that Dhruv had thrown up and that we should come and get him. Since I was busy, Sandhya went and brought him home. He seemed okay enough, but turned quite bad by the evening, and was unable to keep even a teaspoon of water down. We spent a miserable night nursing the poor child, but thankfully he was much better by the morning.

Kavi visits

My sister-in-law is a lawyer in Madras, and she had a partner’s meeting to attend in Los Angeles, so she decided to stop by and visit us for a few days. Since Dhruv was unwell, I was supposed to go to JFK and pick her up on Tuesday afternoon, but the Boston trip put paid to those plans. However, Dhruv seemed quite okay all morning, so Sandhya said she would go and pick her up. I suggested taking a cab or ordering car service, but Sandhya felt confident enough to take the Subway. She was quite happy that she did, and got there quite easily.

My sister-in-law’s brother-in-law and his wife live in Brooklyn and work in Manhattan, and we had invited them for dinner on Tuesday. Since he had lived a few blocks from where we now live, and she grew up in this area, we grilled them on things to do (read: places to eat) in the neighborhood, and ended up with a long list of recommendations for each Cuisine.

It was fascinating to see them argue the merits of two different routes to reach their place in Brooklyn. She was in favor of a simple route that saved time by having us walk a few blocks, while he had given me a more complicated one that minimized walking (to the point that some connections have allegedly been chosen so that one doesn’t have to change platforms to change trains). I’m sure as time goes by I will develop such a refined understanding of the system, but it was all too much at one point.

Dhruv woke on Wednesday complaining of a stomach ache, and since he rarely complains, we decided to let him skip school. However, he suddenly changed his mind at 7:45 am, and it was a mad scramble to get him ready in time to catch the bus. I must say I was impressed that he was there a few minutes early at 8:05. Shows we’ve really honed the routine down by now. 

Sandhya goes down

On Tuesday night, Sandhya seemed to get what Dhruv had been having – the same identical symptoms. She was miserable for a while, but okay the next morning. We began to worry that we may all get it in turn. Given that Kavi was going to LA and then back to India, I was particularly worried about her. Work was also getting quite hectic, and I couldn’t afford to fall ill. We all had our fingers crossed.

Bao Noodles

On Wednesday, I took some time off from work to take Kavi and her colleague from India, who was also passing through, to Bao Noodles in Gramercy, one of the restaurants that Kavi’s brother-in-law had recommended. It was a few blocks away, and we walked down for a nice Vietnamese lunch. They had some interesting cocktails on the menu, and we think we’ll return one evening to try them out. The décor in particular is quite interesting – “part French bistro, part Irish pub” as a review in New York Magazine puts it. Limited vegetarian fare, but good stuff, all the same.

That afternoon, I developed the same symptoms, and boy – was I miserable for a while!! I spent the night curled up in fetal position, trying had to deal with the extreme discomfort. Nothing helped, and it just took its time to work its way out of my system. I was better the next day, but had no appetite and felt really weak. A couple of extra-strength Tylenols helped me somewhat, but it wasn’t fun at all.

A Thursday visitor

The previous week, Pooja Sawhney, an old school friend from India, had emailed me to say that a friend of hers was moving to New York, and knew nobody there at all, so could I help her settle in? Since she was arriving early in the morning, we asked her to come straight home instead of going to a hotel, and she came in on Thursday morning. Priya Sehgal used to be in the Indian Air Force, and her husband was a serving officer there, so I had this additional sense of obligation (my father was in the Indian Air Force). She was going to be at the UN for a six-month assignment.

We’ve always settled easily into new places due to the unreserved assistance of friends and strangers, and have always resolved to try to give back whenever we can, by helping someone new to a city that we know. The occasion has presented itself sooner than I expected in New York, not that it matters.

I had spoken to the rental office in Waterside, to see if they might have a studio apartment available – and they did. Perhaps it’s this market, but I was surprised to find that they were flexible with two things that I thought might be deal-breakers – a six-month lease, and someone with no credit history. 

The studio they had available was in Building 20, on the 36th floor, with a spectacular view of the East River and the UN – the place where she was going to work.  I immediately apologized to Priya for tempting her with an apartment as beautiful as that one (I hadn’t known, honest!) – it has probably set a very high bar and any other place she’ll see she’s going to end up comparing against this one.

Priya moved to a hotel nearby later in the morning, and while we resolved to meet her and take her out to dinner later, my stomach was still feeling too weak to try anything of the sort. I hope we can make it up to her soon and show her around.

Wrapping up Kavi’s visit

Sandhya got out of my hair by taking Kavi to the Met and then shopping. While Kavi’s been to New York before, and has used public transit, I’m sure she found the transition her sister had made from a two-car suburban existence to a Bus-and-Subway riding urbanite amusing. Kavi left early on Friday morning.

Visiting the Temple in Flushing

Since things have been a bit tense, Sandhya wanted to visit the temple in Flushing. She’s the religious one in our house, and I don’t grudge her her faith, so I agreed to take some time off and take her there. From Grand Central, we caught a 7 train to Flushing, and emerged from the Subway station into another world. It was like we had traveled through the center of the earth and emerged in Hong Kong or Shanghai – from the people on the streets and the signs in the stores to the handout I was given. It was only the presence of the occasional MTA bus that reassured me that we were still in the New York area. 

The temple was ordinary enough (Livermore is larger, much more impressive, and set back in a much larger compound) but Sandhya was satisfied with the visit. I sat amusing myself by reading the hundreds of signs that must adorn any Indian venture in America – signs that are promptly ignored (“Please Do Not Use Your Cellphone Here”, “Please Break Coconuts Only in the Designated Area”, “Please do not put Money on the God. Put it in the Box Next to the God.”). The redeeming factor was that there is a canteen in the basement where we had a Dosa and some Yoghurt-Rice (my stomach was still sensitive).

I haven’t been to Queens or Jackson Heights yet, but the Flushing temple is spoken off in hushed tones within Indian circles. I guess I’ve checked that one off.

Going to the Bronx

Dhruv wasn’t feeling well on Saturday morning, so we decided to stay at home. However, he was better by the afternoon (perhaps he heard us mention the Z word), and so we decided to visit Bronx Zoo. Because of problems on the 5 line, we had to take a 4, and then switch to a 2 in the Bronx. At 149th Street-Grand Concourse, we followed signs to the 2 line. As we descended, the path narrowed, became much darker, and dirtier. At the end of a corridor we say some people standing around, at the top of a stairway. We reached the end of the corridor and looked down the stairs at quite a sight – the platform was narrow, and crowded like a Mumbai platform in rush hour. Stations in Manhattan are bright, clean, and sparsely populated. This one was dark, dirty and crowded.

We made our way gingerly down the stairs and to where we saw a little standing room. It turned out the standing room was because of a blind couple with their seeing-eye dogs. We squeezed into the place there was, and waited for the train. Thankfully, we managed to get on board (just barely) and began the last leg of our journey. The crowd in the train was predominantly African-American, and I could feel for their sullenness. Who could fault someone from thinking that the system had deliberately dealt them a bad hand? Crowded trains. Smaller, poorly maintained stations. A much larger transit-using population.

Sandhya was quite apprehensive – and this was in the middle of the day. Dhruv was oblivious to all this – he was focused on the seeing-eye dogs, who were a few feet away from him, quietly and patiently sitting at the feet of their owners as the train rumbled through graffiti festooned houses and dreary chain-link fence. A large but attractive African-American lady looked down at him and then up at me. It’s rare that someone catches your eye here; I naturally smiled. Her face broke out in a beautiful smile to reveal a perfect set of very white teeth. I then asked a man next to me where I should get off to go to the Zoo. He painstakingly gave me a very careful set of directions. I was glad for those two fleeting moments of human interaction – underneath the sullen exterior, they were as warm and friendly as I had hoped and expected. I’m glad I scratched the surface, instead of leaving with an ugly stereotype.

Bronx Zoo

Perhaps because it was a cold day, we almost got the zoo to ourselves. A lot of the animals were not to be seen because they were in their winter quarters, but we got a great exposure to those that were there. We watched two snow leopards playfully charge each other (I’ve uploaded some grainy video to this link), a polar bear wrestle a long bamboo shoot (weren’t those supposed to be for the Panda bear?), two magnificent black panthers gaze sleepily at us while sitting comfortably on a branch, not 10 feet away (we were on the other side of very thick glass). We watched two large Bengal Tigers pace up and down, occasionally walking not more than 10 feet away from us (again, through glass).

We spent some intimate time with four Giraffes inside a room that was perhaps not much larger than our apartment. We were a bit late and didn’t get to spend enough time with the Gorillas, but because they were indoors, we could watch them really up close and personal. The Bronx Zoo has done a really good job of setting up displays so that visitors get a very close and intimate view of the animals – something I haven’t seen anywhere else.

There was a fantastic Madagascar enclosure, a great Bird enclosure, and some stunning old architecture. It was a pity we got out so late in the day and didn’t spend enough time, but we should go back while it’s still cold (before the crowds build up, and the animals are let out of their enclosures).

Old Murphy was lurking around of course, and within minutes of our arriving, my camera battery gave up the ghost, which means the only pictures we have are the ones in our minds.

Chai and Samosas on the way back

On the way back, we stopped by the home of an old friend to have some Chai and Samosas. They stay half a block from Central Park, in the Upper East Side. Sandhya and I really envied their lovely apartment (they own, not rent) which was not 5 blocks from the Met. Being able to drop in like this on friends without much notice (I called him from the Zoo to see if he was at home) is something we probably miss most from California (and having them drop in, in turn). On the other hand, it’s because we don’t have that many friends here that we’ve been able to do something every weekend – no children’s birthday parties to attend!

The weather returns

It snowed a bit on Sunday, and since a huge snowstorm was set to hit the entire Northeast on Monday, schools were closed. I later learned that this was the first time in five years they had been closed – but didn’t think the weather was bad enough to warrant it. Unfortunately, I was too busy to take Dhruv out to play in the snow, and poor Sandhya came down with a nasty cold and sore throat. From my window, I could see several kids in the Plaza below, enjoying themselves in the fresh powder.

Music teacher

Since Sandhya was unwell, I took Dhruv to his music class on Monday evening. We’re really fortunate that his teacher is just 10 floors up, on the 21st floor. Michael is his name, and he’s an old retired Russian gentleman with a strong accent, and a rather strict manner. Perhaps because of the accent Dhruv doesn’t realize when he is being strict or is angry, and he quite likes him. The class lasted half hour and I watched the East River and the tail-lights on the FDR during that period.

At the end of the lesson, I decided to take the plunge (I had been contemplating this for a while) and have signed up for Piano lessons. I figure that an opportunity like this comes rarely – where the teacher is right in the same building and is flexible enough to accommodate me whenever my schedule permits it. I hope I can find time to practice a bit between lessons, but have resolved to try. My first lesson is this evening, and every Monday night thereafter. I’m looking forward to it.

I’m sorry again for being somewhat tardy in posting – and apologies for this very long post. I’ve caught up now, and hopefully will stay with it.