Macchar Jhol

I headed off with a good school friend to this bar in Chicago where we were supposed to meet a group of his friends and their extended friends. Very soon there were some 20 of us in a bar with music so loud that I could not hear their names when introduced. So I settled down with my regular drink and caught highlights of the Michigan v/s Utah game and drank some more over Michigans loss.

Just then this girl crashed onto the barstool next to mine. Almost out of breath with the dancing and perhaps a little too drunk. In my eyes, entertainment had just planted its butt next to mine.

"Tired?", I asked, sipping on my rum n coke.

She turned my way and slowly checked me out head to toe. I put that down to too much alcohol as she nodded a yes.

"I dont think I got your name", I said, taking another gulp of my drink.

"Shar", she said (name abbreviated for privacy concerns). A very typical Bengali name.

"Allow me to guess", I said, "Its Shar Banerjee?"
"No"
"Chatterjee?"
"No"
"Mukherjee?"
"No"
"Ganguly!!"

Still no. This was not going too well. I looked at my fifth glass of alcohol, looked at Shar and said to myself, "Go for it".

"So can you cook Macchar Jhol?", I asked, and made a self note that I must be the first guy ever in a crowded Chicago bar to ask a chick high on alcohol about cooking fish, Bong style.

The reaction was even more surprising. "Nope. Cant make it, but can eat it", she said and then looked at me rather suspiciously. "How do you know about Macchar Jhol?"

"I am a Bong"
"No way! Whats your name?"
"Arvindo" (yes people, I was trying my level best to keep a poker face here)

And then my dear friend X turns up out of nowhere, "Hey Apoorva, get on the dance floor with me". I am pulled into the crowd despite many a protest and Shar is lost in the background.

End of the night and we are walking out of the club when I come across Shar again. "Apoorva, do you know why you cant be Bengali?", she asks. "Hey! Apoorva can be a Bengali name. Just pronounce it as Opporvo", I reply.

We both laugh and she says, "No, because Bong men just cannot dance".

"There can always be exceptions", I protest, "Else all Bong women would know how to make Macchar Jhol"

We laugh again, and say our goodbyes, knowing we'll never meet again. I weave my way through hundreds of people crowding Chicago's Rush & Division neighbourhood to X's car, wondering if she just said that I am a good dancer? I cant dance for nuts! She must have meant Bong men can dance. But thats not true as well. Except Mithun Chakraborthy.

Hugs, good night and a pillow!

...41 days to go

Oh, How I Have Ignored Thee

Its been a while. And I have a lot to blog, but nothing in particular. So this post might be random. It might make you say "Huh?" by the end of it (What? You say you already do for all my posts?)

Firstly, I survived a West Michigan winter. What it means is best explained by the photo below. Thats an icicle coming down all the way from my balcony. Mid-Jan to mid-Feb was insane in terms of snow. Now I know why people warned me against coming to Michigan.

Life can be funny. At least when it comes to financial aid and airlines. When you come to the USA for your masters, you are this poor Indian wannabe Grad, running to every professor in an attempt to land the much in-demand TA/RA/GA positions and you are turned down from everywhere. So you eventually graduate with a huge debt. Now when you pursue a part time degree, sponsored by your company, the professor asks if you would like to help in research!

The same goes with airlines. When you travel economy, you get a middle seat in the row with two fat 300 lbs men in the seats next to yours. By the time the flight lands, you feel like the patty in a burger. Only the buns are made of rock! I sure could do with a vacant seat next to mine when I fly economy. But fly first class and I would like a fellow-passenger in the adjacent seat. Oh, for all you know, it might be Adriana Lima flying for a photo-op, or Doug Sharon, who I would like to piss off with ethics of carrying client material to Morgan Stanley (ok, not really - I'll stick to Adriana), or simply a 300 lbs man, coz there is enough space!! You get the point. But nah, fly first class and you get an empty seat next to yours. Just when you dont need it.

Such is life!

I had a quick day trip to Chicago and the city always surprises me with its architecture. They build skyscrapers not coz they have to build skyscrapers. They build em coz they love building em! Each building has its uniqueness. And is an architectural delight. Thats where Chicago stands out from NYC. However, you dont find people on every street and corner of downtown Chicago, and thats where NYC scores over Chicago. Perhaps the only city whose downtown is buzzing 24X7 is NYC.

If you ever visit a company, or a school, or some particular program, many a time you get a name tag. Some people clip it onto their shirt pocket. Some over their belts. For men, I highly recommend the shirt pocket. For some weird reason, most desis will not come forward and introduce themselves and shake your hand and wait for you to introduce yourself. They walk to you, look at your name tag, and those who suffer from vision issues get really close to you and then go, "Oh, Apoorva. I am Sunita." Now imagine if you have the name tag on your belt. Every time a desi approaches you, either you feel like your fly is open, or the desi wants some!

For women, the tag position gets a little tricky. But I wont get into that here.

Have you ever been to Qdoba? They have something known as a "Naked Burrito" (all you Chipotle fanatics, its the equivalent of a Burrito Bol). Its a burrito without the tortilla, served in a bowl. Each time I am at Qdoba, I place my order in one of the following two ways:
"Its going to be a chicken burrito. Could I have it naked?"
OR
"Its going to be a chicken burrito. Could you make it naked?"

I started off with the former, however after I realized what I am saying, I have shifted to the later. In fact Qdoba has a really neat shirt - all black with "Get Naked" written on the back. I think they could start a new campaign which goes "Qdoba - We make out Burritos naked". If you do not see a sharp rise in the quarterly earnings, I'll actually go have a Burrito naked!

OK, I'll stop before people actually start imagining moi naked and killing themselves.

And that is how it looks when the snow melts and the sun is out.