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.
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.
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.
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.
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