The Wonder Years - My reflection of being a Georgian

During a recent visit to Bengaluru (the erstwhile Bangalore), on a rather fateful night, my enthusiastic friend decided to take me for a spin on the battered Hosur road. After driving around for about an hour on that lonely yet fun filled night, we were finally parked right in front of the main gate of Military School, Bangalore and suddenly as I looked at the signboard, in a split moment of sheer nostalgia, it all came back to me. Those truly wonderful years as a Georgian.

 

Back in the 80’s, Bangalore still sported the tag of the ‘Garden City’ and with it’s rich cosmopolitan lifestyle, it was pretty overwhelming for a juvenile kid like me who came from a small town modest family that had a much disciplined army background spanning two generations of folks eating cornflakes and porridge for breakfast.

 

What’s amazing though is that in spite of the school’s vastness in size, it is nestled   right in the heart of the most ‘happening’ southern city. It always felt as though we lived on a separate planet secured by its own big concrete walls with barbed wire completely cut off from active civilization and the vicious forces of this burgeoning metropolis. It seemed as though we were all in constant rebellion to get out. So much so that even to get an out pass for a boy’s day out on a lazy Sunday afternoon was a frustrating task of pleading in front of our beloved housemaster, Mr. Pandey.

 

The constant torture of being ragged by our overpowering seniors. The adventurous NCC camps in the valleys of Nainital where we would all pile up into a human pyramid during a mid winter night to avoid the biting cold in our tiny little tent. The arduous task of running a few kilometers on frost bitten barren streets of a sleeping city just to lose a few kilos body weight and qualify for the ‘Bubble’ weight category at the inter-house Boxing championship. The nerve biting episode of listening to scary ghost stories narrated with virtual life-like manifestation by our warden Mr. Jamboolingum. The ultra cool and laidback attitude of our Hindi Teacher, Mr. Pathak, the mundane yet poetic renditions of Mr. Manav.  The flamboyant English teaching style of Mr. GopalaKrishna. The constant sneaking out of the back gate at night to grab a hot and delicious ‘Dil Kush’ at the Iyengar bakery. The impatient waiting in a long queue at the Galaxy Cinema to watch the school sponsored Hollywood blockbuster Superman 1 or for that matter being dragged to Rex theatre on a late evening to watch ‘Kramer Vs Kramer’ (I never really got over that one) with the house captain because his date failed to show up.

 

My five year stint at this exceptional institution with its countless experiences has always been one of the most cherished and memorable periods of my childhood days.

 

In a silent moment on that eventful night, as I stared out of the window of my friend’s car at the big black gate, I reflected. There's something about the good old’ school days and the wonder years that passed and will never come back. And as I reminisce on the past and thank my stars, I feel I have finally arrived.

 

To All The Amazing Georgians...

 

I originally wrote this article for the Georgian Magazine back in late 2006 (actually on November 10, 2006). 

And for all the Georgians who are wondering who I am, this is Shekhar ChikkiReddy, Roll No. 2175, Rajaji House, Class of ‘87.

Photo Courtesy - The Wonder Years on screenrant.com

Capital Punishment, Khandani Style!

We all love to celebrate Birthdays of our loved ones and wives birthdays are no exceptions since it’s that one day in the year when you actually get the opportunity to truly thank them for their unflinching love and affection to you and your family. And after the usual ritual of cake cutting, gifting etc., you want to take them out to a new restaurant in town and treat them to a nice lunch or dinner, whatever maybe the case. So here I was on my dear wife’s birthday last weekend and we decided to check out this new restaurant in town for a lazy afternoon lunch. I went there with my wife and parents and as unexpected as it was, the whole experience turned out to be a big disappointment and one of the most frustrating dining experiences of ours in a long time.

And since both my wife and I are ardent foodies, I could not help but rant and unleash my frustration on this particular restaurant’s home page on Burrp.com where it was featured in painted glory.

Here’s my review of this place, read on...

The most annoying aspect (apart from many others) of this place is the way one gets served. As you are contemplating to get a place and are in the process of settling down, and trying to get a hang of a large oval shaped steel plate with about 15 odd bowls (katoris), a bevy of khandani waiters in their garish khandani attire will attack you with khandani food, literally. About 30 odd khandani items are served in about 3 minutes flat. There is no particular order or sequence in which you get served. They throw in all the khandani items whether you like them or not. A lot of ‘shuddh’ khandani ghee is poured on all the stuff repeatedly, the khandani waiters keep attacking you constantly every second minute giving you no time whatsoever to enjoy the 10% of the khandani items that you realize are actually nice for your palate and liking. The good khandani stuff like say rotis are miniature in size with about 2 inch diameter, literally a single piece if you were to eat a normal sized roti.

They have small glasses (actually earthenware kullads if you know what I mean) to serve khandani ‘butter milk’  served in small quantities, and an even smaller glasses of khandani Jalzeera (served almost towards the end of the meal), again with less than half the quantity. The miniature malpoa was excessively deep fried reeking in oil and served with just a pinch of khandani and bland tasting rabdi. The fruit custard (wonder what is khandani about his exotic pudding) was served without any fruit and tasted weird with loads of strong essence flavour.

The place is noisy, very cramped, with rather ordinary looking cheap interiors and furniture, overly crowded with lots of hustle and bustle and with hardly any sense of genuine hospitality. It’s all part of the Khandani Parampara which they announce with such aplomb.

And finally to add insult to injury, we were billed an average of Rs.375 per thali of this Khandani hospitality and vegetarian food of 1001 items to be served and eaten in 20 odd minutes. In my honest opinion it’s a total rip off by any standards. They even went on to charge a ‘service charge’ of 7.5% (about 100 odd Rupees) to pay the attacking khandani waiters their meagre monthly wages.

I had first visited another branch of this khandani joint back in Bangalore about 4 or 5 years ago when it had opened in UB city right in the middle of a Subway and a Toscanos(A plush Italian eatery).  I thought it was a very bold move by these guys to actually open one in such a place. But when my dear Mom-In-Law insisted, we try it out, it was absolutely fabulous. For starters, the outdoor ‘cafe’ seating with wrought iron tables and chairs and the ambience of the UB city mall’s open courtyard added to the experience and the food was delicious. I think we paid about Rs.225 per plate all inclusive then and I thought it was a great deal considering the ambience, the impeccable service and the authentic taste of the food they served with a true sense of khandani hospitality.

Fast forward to 2012, I was thoroughly and sadly disappointed (and ruined my dear wife’s birthday afternoon) by every means. If you are a true foodie and really want to get pampered and eat the ‘real’ khandani / marwadi / gujarati / rajasthani vegetarian food, you should check out this very non descript obscure place in Rani Ganj, Secunderabad called Ram Vilas Bhavan. They charge you about Rs.100 or less for their Thali and literally pamper you with their authentic simple food, love, affection and their genuine hospitality. I have been going there for about 15 odd years now and nothing has changed except maybe the price which has kind of kept pace with annual inflation which is alright and acceptable.

As we left the place, I swore to my family that I will not allow any more of this Capital(‘That’s English for Rajdhani) Punishment, ever.

#Rajdhani

#RajdhaniRestaurant

#VegeterianFood

#VegeterianRestaurant

#Khandani

#KhandaniParampara

The Indian impersonating Entrepreneur

I wrote this comment in response to an article in Forbes online about the rising Indian immigrant Entrepreneurs in the US. But as I started writing, it became sort of a very lengthy comment and I thought I will publish it on my blog. Here’s how it goes...

Very informative and incisive but I am not too surprised at the findings. I think one of the greatest traits that Indians have is their ability to adapt and this is what makes them successful in any environment or country, let alone the US.

So while the number of successful entrepreneurial Indian immigrants is on the rise in the US, the only problem I think is that a very small fractional number of these entrepreneurs end up starting new enterprises that are actually innovative and bring new concepts, ideas, services and products that are completely out-of-the-box and revolutionary.

A lot of Indians I know that run corporations in the US are all very run of the mill ‘consulting’ shops or businesses and are able to capitalize (read exploit) on the whole off-shoring and outsourcing bandwagon. Because of their Indian roots, upbringing and business knowhow, they are able to start and successfully run US based corporations depending completely on India based back office staff and services model.

And now we have a new breed of India based entrepreneurs who are riding the e-commerce wave in India by starting a plethora of websites selling everything under the sun and practically replicating (read copying) models and businesses which have been prevalent and evolved in the US for over a decade now. You have a Flipkart.com based on Amazon.com or a Bestylish.com based on the hugely successful Zappos.com started by Tony Hsieh who also happens to be an Immigrant but from Taiwan.  

What is interesting however is that none of these new Indian websites or online businesses are sued by their American corporation counterparts from whom they are blatantly replicated. It appears to be some sort of a carefully planned conspiracy by the American giants to let them be so as to ‘test the Indian waters’ and if successful eventually acquire them for millions of dollars.

So the point I am trying to make here is that while we have a lot of Indians starting new tech companies in the US (or in India), it will be rare or near impossible to see an Indian immigrant to start something like Zappos.com in the US.

But then again, I recently read an online article in Business Insider featuring the sexiest start-up entrepreneurs in the US under 30 and it surprisingly had an Indian (Arshad Chowdhury who started Cleargears) included in the list. That felt really good and I think there’s still some hope.

And by the way, I am happy to be back on my Blog after a long unintended haitus (read Bloggers Block).

 

In closing, here’s a link to that Forbes article:

http://www.forbes.com/sites/singularity/2012/10/15/how-indians-defied-gravity-and-achieved-success-in-silicon-valley/

#Impersonation

#Impersonating

#ImpersonatingEntrepreneur

#ForbesArticles

#ForbesMagazine

 

A Eulogy for my dearest friend’s Dad…

This one goes to my most dearest friend Ram’s Dad, Major CK Belliappa, who was a fabulous father, a proud grandfather, a loving husband, a brave and spirited Army officer, and a staunch Kodava who played many more significant roles during his unpretentious and humble life. But above all of that, he was an absolutely amazing and remarkable human being whom we all adored and loved so unconditionally.

I have known Uncle for over two decades now and during my own varied experiences of life from college days followed by being a professonal working and living in India and abroad, my frequent travel, my marriage and more recently attaining fatherhood, my meetings with Uncle have always been staggered with breaks in between that lasted from a few days to weeks to even few years. But whenever we met, it was great and I always had the good chance to spend a few wonderful moments talking to him and catching up on things that really mattered, life and us.

I fondly remember Uncle as a very attentive listener and that’s always very reassuring, especially if you are an engaging story teller like me. I remember discussing so many things with him during the numerous conversations we’ve had that revolve around wide-ranging subjects like computers, books, travels, family or just about anything and he would always show so much interest and intent to listen and with his own inimitable mark of acknowledgement by a simple ‘Oh Yeah!’, he would reinforce the essence of making the whole discussion so much more worthwhile.

Growing up in the late 80s, when Ram and I first met in junior college and when Uncle was working with Gati, I would frequent his home in Gunrock enclave at least three or four times a week. On most occasions, I would end up spending a lot of time at his place just hang out there doing stuff like eating, drinking, watching movies on rental videos or generally idling away time doing nothing and it was always refreshing to meet Uncle who would be so unmindful of the unruly escapades of us juveniles. He would always indulge us in stories of his own little adventures at the office or the experiences of his tenure in the Army. He always had this comic banter and a bunch of really funny jokes to tell and make us all laugh. One of my favourites is the one when somebody asked him over a drink as to how did Ram happen?, and he held up his glass firmly and exclaimed, "It was fairly simple; Rum, Ram and Raam!".

In the last few years since his retirement from professional work, Uncle had moved back to his old ancestral home in Coorg located in the village of Bittangala in Kodava. Set in a pristine valley filled with an abundance of flora, fauna, fresh air and with a backdrop of coffee plantations on a hillock on one side, a barnyard with buffaloes behind and an open cultivable field on to the front. The home itself has a very modest look with basic living amenities, and with limited connectivity, frequent power cuts and arduous pathways filled with mud, rocks and slush that could give a grueling road test to any modern day SUV. In spite of its humble existence, the most striking feature of this family house is its strong history and the inimitable ‘Kodava’ character emanating from its ancient rustic architecture. And I think it was this magnetic sense of character and history that pulled Uncle back to his family home.

When most contemporary retirees are moving into big cities to embrace the luxuries of a modern lifestyle, it was very inspiring of Uncle to return to his ancestral home and bask in its glory of yester years and then add some of his own to continue its legacy. On many occasions, one could find Uncle locked up in his room which was more like a study where he would be busy browsing through his mail, scattered papers and old books.

I managed to fish out this picture of Uncle that I took in his study. Check out the collection of his books and caps in the background with an old picture of Swami Vivekananda on the wall.

There’s this other picture of him and me when we were strolling through his coffee plantation. These pictures were taken just about a year ago sometime in early to mid 2009 when he was still very strong, healthy and actively overseeing the work at his estate which he cared for so much.

I have made several trips to this ancestral home in the past few years and it has always been a memorable holiday to be able to enjoy the scenic wilderness and serene beauty of the landscape that surrounds this place.  A couple of years ago, during one of my trips to Coorg, I happen to present my copy of this book called ‘The Elephant, The Tiger and the Cell Phone’ a contemporary collection of essays on India by Shashi Tharoor and Uncle was pleasantly taken aback by this small gesture of mine. I further went on to narrate a couple of the essays in the book and it was so heartening to see him listen with so much of undivided attention, almost like a young enthusiastic school boy.

The last time I spent a few minutes talking to Uncle was on that gloomy and rainy weekday afternoon about four weeks ago in the middle of June when I had the privilege to give the family a ride in my car from St.John's hospital to his cousin's home on MG road in Bangalore. Monsoon had just set in and we had a very heavy downpour that evening and as I steered the car through the rain drenched rush hour traffic, I clearly remember catching occasional glimpses of him in the rear view mirror as he dozed off like a little baby in the rear seat, flanked by Ram on one side and his Mother on the other. Once we got to the apartment building and into the basement parking lot, he refused to get off the car and walk to the elevator as he wanted to rest more and stay in the car. However, after a bit of sustained persuasion by Ram’s cousin, he finally gave in and we walked him to the elevator and into the apartment living room.

Once settled in the living room, while we all spent the next hour or more together chatting up over a beer, Uncle was comfortably resting on the sofa and was kind of oblivious of our presence. It had been more than two months now as Uncle’s health had slowly started deteriorating since he had to make these frequent visits to the hospital to get his chemo dialysis done under medical supervision. I remember his cousin telling me that Uncle had become very stubborn with a childlike psychosis gripping him in those last two months, since his treatment and hospital visits had intensified.

As the famous Greek historian Herodotus said, ‘Death is a delightful hiding place for weary men’. It was evident that Uncle was tired and has hence passed on from all the suffering from these last few months. With his demise, I will always miss him, specially when I visit Ram's home in Coorg. I will miss talking to him and telling him stories and listening to some of his funny jokes and his laughter.

In closing, I sincerely wish and pray that God gives Ram, his Mother and the rest of his family all the strength to cope with this irreplaceble loss, and may Uncle's soul is rest in peace and tranquility in a place close to his heart, like his favourite ancestral home named ‘Channira". Amen!

The Magic of Frank Oz

I think Frank Oz is a really funny guy. For those of you who are wondering who he is, well Frank Oz is a celebrated and award winning veteran Hollywood screenwriter, director, actor, puppeteer, muppeteer and artist extraordinaire.

Earlier this morning, I woke up watching one of Frank Oz’s mid 90s films called ‘In and Out’ and it made me laugh so much that I feel much better after a serious bout of viral flu that had wrecked havoc on my vital systems since the last three days. And while I’ve been trying to recoup from the aftereffects of the strong antibiotic medication that’s literally drained me of all my remaining energies, I now feel more energetic and relaxed, thanks to Frank Oz’s hilarious movie.

The film In and Out is an interesting take on the concept of being or ‘not being’ Gay and how it can turn ones peaceful life topsy-turvy when one is really not sure. Set in a small and idyllic Mid Western American town, a high school student becomes a famous teenage heartthrob and movie star who eventually goes on to win an Oscar for his very first film where he plays a young Gay marine fighting the Vietnam War. While accepting his ‘Best Actor’ award he affectionately thanks (like most winning actors do with their never ending shower of gratitude to god, their parents, pets and what not) everybody and most importantly his high school teacher ‘Howard Brackett’ (played brilliantly by Kevin Kline) who taught him so many things and what an awesome influence he has been on his life. And in his closing remarks, in front of an entire worldwide television audience, announces that Howard Brackett is ‘Gay’ and thanks him so much for being that.

At that very precise moment of this totally unexpected announcement, the whole town along with its shocked denizens and Howard Brackett himself (and his lovely fiancée) watching television in that frenzy of excitement literally freeze for one whole minute cause they cannot believe what just happened. That sets an interesting tone of events and of mistaken identity for the rest of the movie whereby Howard Brackett, has to face the world and prove to them (and to himself) that he is actually not Gay and that it was a big mistake on part of his juvenile student. He first decides to do some serious introspection himself and goes on to buy this Gay Test kit that comes with an audio tape which you play and act out the instructions that will help you prove your sexual inclinations and preferences. There’s the casual standing test whereby if you have your arm on your waist like a teapot, that’s a good sign that you are gay. 

And in another test, there is a song with a disco beat and you are not supposed to dance to it. The announcer funnily enough advises you to think of great macho ‘manly’ movie stars like John Wayne and Arnold Schwarzenegger who don’t ever dance let alone walk straight in their movies. But here we have Howard Brackett dancing and cannot stop himself only to finally realize that he may actually be Gay after all. For one, he’s been engaged for three full years with his fiancée but has never slept with her cause ‘he respects’ her. And the next thing you know, the whole town is abuzz with the media descending upon this sleepy town to find this elusive and influential ‘Gay’ teacher of this Oscar winning star. There’s television anchors everywhere interviewing the teachers’ hair stylist, his colleagues, and even the mailman, this frail looking old midget of a man who during his interview goes on to say that he has never seen anything unusual about Howard Brackett and then after checking with the Anchor if it’s being telecast nationally says, ‘for god’s sake people, please write the full zip codes’. 

Well, the entire movie is a laugh riot with some really silly jokes and Frank Oz taking his dig on the Oscars too.

While I am at all this, what I have come to realize is that when you are really feeling sick (as in unwell) it’s very comforting and downright soothing to watch a funny movie, maybe one of Frank Oz’s, you can take your pick from, say the classic ‘Dirty Rotten Scoundrels’, or the more recent ‘Death at a Funeral’ and discover how a hearty laugh during your sickness can do wonders to your health and help you recoup faster.

As for Frank Oz, even at 66 he continues to entertain the world with his magical and comical creativity. Here’s a bit of interesting Frank Oz trivia for you; He’s the man behind the famous ‘Sesame Street’ kids program on television right from 1969 to this day. He’s the original creator of the Muppet Movie and its adorable characters including the sexy Ms Piggy and Kermit the frog and to go even further, Frank Oz is the voice and puppeteer behind the Jedi master Yoda in all of the Star Wars series of movies that we have either loathed or loved to watch all these years.

And by the way, one very distinct and rather absurd thing I noticed while watching the movie ''In and Out' on HBO this morning was that while it had its usual dose of English subtitles (which seems to be the norm of the day for all those ambitious English movie channels broadcasting across a nation of predominantly non English speaking audience especially from Cooch Bihar), there was never a subtitle of the word ‘ Gay’ during the entire duration of the movie in spite of the fact that there must have been a thousand times this word would have been spoken throughout the film. In a country that ‘seems’ to have become upwardly mobile, progressive and liberated with recent Bollywood hits like ‘Dostana’ being made and so much media buzz created around the whole LGBT hype, what damage were the censors trying to prevent by knocking off the word Gay from the subtitles when that’s the actual and essential fun element of the film. I don’t get it and neither will those clueless viewers in Cooch Bihar.

#FrankOz

#KevinKline

#InAndOutMovie

#InAndOut

#MovieReviews

#MovieBlogs

BOOM is not a Recipe for Disaster

My dear wife Deepa has a great penchant for collecting and ‘actually follow’ cooking recipes that have been carefully handwritten by her in these antique looking hard bound notebooks that she has been maintaining for several years now. Coming from a vast family of multi lingual individuals who all just love to eat and drink, these interesting recipes are passed on by food loving members of her large family and friends spread across the globe.

As I browse through these books, two very interesting things instantly strike me; One is that almost all dishes and items have simple names (leaving the continental ones alone) starting with the main ingredient and ending with the person from who she picked up the recipe thereby giving the full due credit to the individual in question. You can see interesting recipe names like Shell Fish Curry – Sinnas Mom, Vietnemese Chicken Soup – Ginette Aunty and the ‘Not Good – Goan Fish Curry by Geetha. The last one here has her personalized rating or warning tag for herself and for any cooking enthusiast like me so as to not try it ever at all.

The second remarkable characteristic of the recipe notebook is that most of these recipes are not categorized in any particular order or style or type of cooking as one would expect. They all appear in an interesting random fashion that might give an unsuspecting Vegan a bout of gastric convulsions to discover that the Bisibelebath by Arundathi is right next to the Pork Chops by Jaya Aunty.

Then there are some very interesting ones with bizarre sounding and rather intimidating names like BOOM by Ginette Aunty and the recipe goes on something like this which I am reproducing here word to word… BOOM (Ginette Aunty) ‘ Cook Pork with sugar, salt, pepper and crushed garlic. Boil Vermicelli and keep aside, heat oil fry chopped spring onions and keep aside. In a big vessel put the cooked vermicelli, pork, spring onions, sprouts, lettuce, pudina, cucumber and coriander and mix well. Serve with fish sauce and ground nut powder.’ BOOM! our very own desi style quick, easy and no-nonsense American ‘Boom’ dish made of Chilli Pork or Beef. What’s intriguing about this particular recipe is that there is absolutely no mention of the quantities of the varied ingredients that are put in or the number of people this dish would serve let alone any pre or post cooking rituals which are so meticulously described in those colorful coffee table cook books. But then again this works pretty well and as long as I can remember, we've never had any culinary disasters in our kitchen.

As I browse through her recipe notebook, I’m pleasantly baffled by the heterogeneous range of these cute handwritten random notes. You can effortlessly move from a Hot Malayalee friend (read fried) prawns to Pondicherry Crab curry to ‘Leg’ Paya by Mummy (who I thought was a staunch vegetarian) to Methi Murg to the exotic French Coq Au Vin and Cassoulet De Toulousse with a mix of Curry Powder, Mint Dressing and Walnut Cake recipes thrown in good measure in between to satiate the appetite of the most discerning gourmet or chef.

It’s no wonder an absolute delight for me to watch her when she always seems to briskly rummage through her personlized notes when preparing the most satisfying Spaghetti Bolognaise, this side of the Atlantic.

#Recipes

#CookingRecipes

#SpaghettiBolognaise

#CassouletDeToulousse

What's in a Name?

Well, I have never been a blogger before this and after reading numerous blogs out there, I wondered if it really was such a good idea to actually share my innermost feelings and views with the world. Come to think of it, I think it does make sense to actually do it so that people like me who love to read just about anything will actually start reading what I have written, so here we go. 

Its never too late to start something new. 

For starters, if you are wondering how I coined the name of this Blog and my profile, you ought to know its history. It all goes back to about a year ago when I first became a father back in early July of 2009, when I myself turned 40. For the average baby boomer this might seem like a delayed fatherhood but then again, as they say, life begins at 40 and I guess I decided to become a father when my life actually began in the first place. 

My adorable little baby boy was born on a bright sunny morning of the 2nd of July 2009 in the city of Bangalore and that was the real moment of truth when I began to realize what I have been missing out in life all these years of my own existence, sheer bliss. He was a puny little guy just like most new born babies but with these big expressive eyes just like those of my dear wife and the very first time when I held him in my arms, I knew my life had changed, for the better. In order to name our son, like most families, my mother-in-law had consulted our family astrologer. We had very limited options and we wanted to have a simple name that was easy to remember, pronounce and had a strong meaning. 

After a bit of discussion and deliberation we finally named our Son, Rishi, which according to the Hindu system means the 'first ray of the sun' when it's about to rise. My profile name is therefore named RiseNShine and Rishi is the short form of that phrase. The name of this particular blog 'ChipsAhoy' is a new coinage from the phrase ShipsAhoy (Term used in Hailing when a ship arrives or is seen). And why Chips, well this goes back to an important episode in my son's life. 

My wife's little niece Simran (Sims) who has come to really adore the little guy, while playing with him one day commented, 'Deepa aunty, Rishi is really like Chips, you cant stop eating them enough'. So we thought it was very cute and hence decided to keep it as our son's new petname 'Chips'. And the the word Ahoy means to hail as in an enthusiastic greeting of somebody's arrival. 

One a serious note, when I really think through this word 'Chips' which apart from meaning a slice of Potato fried in oil, it also means a fragment of something broken off from a whole and it fits perfectly right, because my Son, Rishi come to think of it is actually a small fragment of something broken off of me as a whole. In closing, as my son turns 1 year old this July, from here going forward I'm going to dedicate this Blog to my most priceless possession, my son Rishi or Chips. 

 In the days to come, depending on my mood swings and inclination, I will be posting blogs about my son, my wife, my life and experiences with food, films, music, travel and my dear old friends. ChipsAhoy!