Arbind Bhatia's Blog
April 13, 2021
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐗
Part V the Realization 
My emotions were numbed. The parking area was empty and I wondered if the temple was even open. As we walked up the stairs we heard someone yelling from a distance and turned to see an aged man with a frail physique, whom we had woken up from an afternoon siesta, telling us to wait at the main door of the temple until he arrived. He asked us what we were doing there and I said:‘I am a Bhatia and I came to meet the deity.’‘Just to be clear, you don’t need to perform any specific rituals, correct?’ said Maharaj, the temple priest.‘No, why do you ask?’‘There was a group that came in this morning and they wanted to sacrifice a goat, I thought you were one of them’ he said.‘Sorry, what did you just say’, I asked.‘We don’t allow that here anymore. Although we do give goat meat to devotees as an offering during our annual gathering, slaughtering at the premises is now against the law,’ he said while unlocking the door. 
Audy observed my eyes flicker and asked for a translation. She was just as surprised to hear of such an exotic tribal ritual. I entered the temple and was instantaneously drawn to the deity after ringing the bell. I sat on the floor facing the goddess in silence and soothing bliss for fifteen minutes, knowing that she would listen to the thoughts and prayers in mind. My third-eye was beating humbly. As I stood up, Maharaj asked what I had wished for. 
‘Forgiveness and hope,’ I said, ‘from the past and for the future generations of my family.’‘Beautiful,’ he responded with a smile, ‘Come here, open your hands.’ He took wheat grains arbitrarily from a steel plate which sat adjacent to the deity, and with his fist poured into both my hands. He told me to count them and to put them back into plate in pairs to see if he had given me an odd number of grains. He had. Seventeen, and as I removed two at a time and was left with one, he interjected, ‘Joyous occasion! Blissful accomplishment! You have traveled here from a distance to see her. Being left with only one grain and that too from a prime number signifies that she has welcomed you back home and your wish has already been granted to you!’ he said confidently. 
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Previous Next ‘Change of plans. I want to go to Bada Bagh,’ I said to the driver.‘Sir, you just went there yesterday and spent a couple of hours. There’s nothing more at that sight to see which you haven’t already.’‘Binny, I want to go to Gadisar Lake and take pictures,’ said Audy.‘We will. I don’t know why but there’s something telling me to go back there. I can’t explain it.’ Upon arriving at the crematorium and burial site of the royals, two young shutterbugs from Jodhpur saw us asked if we could be photographed as I attempted to take Audy to where we had sat the day before. 
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[Miles Davis] “Flamenco Sketches” https://music.apple.com/…/flamenco-sketches/268443092… I had this song on repeat with my head plummeted in the pillow face down, and after a couple of rounds, Audy asked me what was wrong. I was mute and could only muster enough energy to mention that if she just listened to the music, then it would help her know how I truly felt. I was just as less talkative the following day. We checked out of the hotel and while having breakfast I thought that this may have not been the most ideal way to spend our first anniversary. Relaxation and fun in the Nicobar Islands, not a goal-oriented adventure in Jaisalmer, would have probably been a better choice, I thought. Or was I conditioned to believe that? I peeked out the window to bid adieu as we took off from Jaisalmer Airport and it suddenly hit me. That this desert land is desolate. Its royal history has become something for tourists to consume and that’s what feeds its population, not mother earth. With the economic viability being as bleak as it is today, were things better here back in 1707, the birth year of our first known ancestor Baba Jassa as per the family tree? It couldn’t have been. That’s why we were bandits on the Indian Silk Route. The priest at the temple may have been kind to use the word ‘diaspora’, but, in actuality it was more likely an exodus. Perhaps my forefathers left these barren wastelands for the greener pastures of Sialkot in Pakistan in the early 19th century, where word of mouth through generations tells us that we became farmers. By the mid-1800s we were land owners in Lahore where my father was born; in fact we amassed wealth as moneylenders, by taking land registries as collateral against cash given, and acquiring property after borrower defaults. Not much different from what I have spent my career doing, of course in a legal manner however. And after the partition, once the British Raj’s control was dismantled in 1947 and India gained independence, how we left everything in Lahore when my father was just two years old and moved to New Delhi, where I was born. Time, and the things it does to families; the distance it creates from generation to generation, the memories which remain, the yearning to know the unknown. We are travelers through a limited construct of space. Just as there is growth and likely evolution as a product of circumstance, there also must undeniably be downfall and destruction given the preferences of choice – it is the order of the universe, the nature of the nameless. I just wish I could have discovered more. As I started piecing the travels in my lifetime and how Audy has joined me on this voyage for my remaining years, I realized how far we had already come, yet how much further we both still must go. ‘What is going on in that mind of yours? Say something Binny!’ exclaimed my lovely wife. I looked over at her and said, ‘I think there’s a direct correlation between your bohemian-style fashion sense and the gypsy soul I have inherited from my ancestors.’‘Now that, my husband, is a story to write about,’ she said.I came home physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted to my parents. My father could sense it. He said it seemed as though I had returned home after completing a laborious task rather than celebrating a jolly occasion. And he mentioned with admiration, that I was the first known member of our entire extended family, living or dead, to have recorded this trip to our ancestral home, and that, within itself, was a considerable achievement. So time perhaps had me personally evolve from being that teenaged boy who operated in a manner “old school”, into a man that was simply old fashioned. 
[John Coltrane] 
Leave comment below. Spread the word!
I spent the night searching the names heard earlier on Google Maps: “Rupsi” and “Chatrail” locations showed up in the northeastern state of Assam, and the mountainous region of Himachal Pradesh, respectively. ‘This is a bloody wild goose chase,’ I thought. But the day had finally arrived to verify the instructions received from evening prior. I called my parents early morning to inform them that I may have found the location of the temple, and would be on my way later in the day. My mother immediately said, ‘When you face the deity you must ask her for forgiveness for all the mistakes and harm done by our past generations. Also pray for peace and contentment for our current generations and those yet to come.’
Audy and I had limited our visits for the afternoon to the temple and the lake. The initial drive through the outskirts of the city had me arrive at a visibly obvious conclusion: this is barren wasteland. There was absolutely nothing around. I had told the driver to stop at a small shop so that we could pick up some chocolate and biscuits for children we’d find near the temple but not one was seen for the first twenty minutes of the ride.
‘How far is Rupsi? Are you sure we are going the right way?’ I said to the taxi driver.‘Yes brother. We are almost there. I will take you to Chhatrel and you can guide me thereafter.’ We arrived at what seemed to be the intersection Bharat mentioned some ten minutes later. There were only a handful number of houses in this small village and after taking a right turn and driving for some five kilometers, a sign board written in Hindi mentioned that the temple was only 500 meters away after taking a left to go up the hill. It was also clearly written that this was the temple of the Bhatia clan. My emotions were numbed. The parking area was empty and I wondered if the temple was even open. As we walked up the stairs we heard someone yelling from a distance and turned to see an aged man with a frail physique, whom we had woken up from an afternoon siesta, telling us to wait at the main door of the temple until he arrived. He asked us what we were doing there and I said:‘I am a Bhatia and I came to meet the deity.’‘Just to be clear, you don’t need to perform any specific rituals, correct?’ said Maharaj, the temple priest.‘No, why do you ask?’‘There was a group that came in this morning and they wanted to sacrifice a goat, I thought you were one of them’ he said.‘Sorry, what did you just say’, I asked.‘We don’t allow that here anymore. Although we do give goat meat to devotees as an offering during our annual gathering, slaughtering at the premises is now against the law,’ he said while unlocking the door. Audy observed my eyes flicker and asked for a translation. She was just as surprised to hear of such an exotic tribal ritual. I entered the temple and was instantaneously drawn to the deity after ringing the bell. I sat on the floor facing the goddess in silence and soothing bliss for fifteen minutes, knowing that she would listen to the thoughts and prayers in mind. My third-eye was beating humbly. As I stood up, Maharaj asked what I had wished for. ‘Forgiveness and hope,’ I said, ‘from the past and for the future generations of my family.’‘Beautiful,’ he responded with a smile, ‘Come here, open your hands.’ He took wheat grains arbitrarily from a steel plate which sat adjacent to the deity, and with his fist poured into both my hands. He told me to count them and to put them back into plate in pairs to see if he had given me an odd number of grains. He had. Seventeen, and as I removed two at a time and was left with one, he interjected, ‘Joyous occasion! Blissful accomplishment! You have traveled here from a distance to see her. Being left with only one grain and that too from a prime number signifies that she has welcomed you back home and your wish has already been granted to you!’ he said confidently. I noticed goose bumps all over his arms when he then immediately handed me a ledger to sign my details in. My emotions remained numb but my levels of awareness had begun to rise. After he showed me the library of notebooks which also had been autographed previously, the first being from 1853, he began telling me about the two events which led to the diaspora of our clan. The first was around the time when the royal family of Jaisalmer signed a treaty with the British just over two centuries earlier, and the second was during a severe drought which caused extreme famine at the end of the 19th century.
[image error] Previous Next When I asked how he knew all of this, he mentioned that these stories had been told since the temple began congregations of returning Bhatias over the last one hundred and fifteen years, descendants of whom are now funding donations from Canada, Dubai, Kenya as well as various parts of India to ensure this temple’s upkeep. Maharaj and his forefathers were the bearers of this information with the responsibility to share it with members of the clan who sought it. I remembered my family tree which transitioned from birth in Jaisalmer to Sialkot in the early 1800s. It had been complete guesswork prior to learning of this, but the pieces of my family history had now begun falling into place.
‘So where is Bhati Village,’ I asked.‘Come with me, son,’ We stepped out to the entrance of the temple which stood at a height. He pointed in one direction, northeast, while observing me and said, ‘Look to as far as you can see,’ and then all of a sudden, he pointed southwest and then said, ‘look again…this all is the land of the Bhati dynasty of which you and all Bhatias come from. Your perception of a Bhati Village is just an illusion.’ He showed us the same deity in his living quarters and after making a donation to the temple, we left.I had no words to say. At the intersection near Chattrel Village we stopped to find children to give them chocolate and biscuits and that’s when I saw how poverty stricken this area was. We found a child playing outside of his house and after offering him sweets, the news spreads quickly throughout the village.[image error][image error] Previous Next Hoards of children came, some running excitedly others walking hesitantly, and seeing their smiles warmed a heart which felt troubled. How were these children being educated? There is not even a school anywhere in sight. We stopped briefly in another small village in Roopsi and gave everything we had until beginning the drive back the drive back to the city.
[image error][image error] Previous Next ‘Change of plans. I want to go to Bada Bagh,’ I said to the driver.‘Sir, you just went there yesterday and spent a couple of hours. There’s nothing more at that sight to see which you haven’t already.’‘Binny, I want to go to Gadisar Lake and take pictures,’ said Audy.‘We will. I don’t know why but there’s something telling me to go back there. I can’t explain it.’ Upon arriving at the crematorium and burial site of the royals, two young shutterbugs from Jodhpur saw us asked if we could be photographed as I attempted to take Audy to where we had sat the day before. Previous Next After sitting quietly for a little while, I reached into her bag and took out Marriage In The Time Of Corona and told her that I wanted to reread a few passages. She suggested I recite them out loud so that it could be recorded, and that made me think carefully on my choice of pages. The first one chosen was from Chapter 2, page 26-28, “The Rap Proposal” and the second from the last paragraph of the story in Chapter 7; both taken in one reading with a video requiring no edits.
[Miles Davis] “Flamenco Sketches” https://music.apple.com/…/flamenco-sketches/268443092… I had this song on repeat with my head plummeted in the pillow face down, and after a couple of rounds, Audy asked me what was wrong. I was mute and could only muster enough energy to mention that if she just listened to the music, then it would help her know how I truly felt. I was just as less talkative the following day. We checked out of the hotel and while having breakfast I thought that this may have not been the most ideal way to spend our first anniversary. Relaxation and fun in the Nicobar Islands, not a goal-oriented adventure in Jaisalmer, would have probably been a better choice, I thought. Or was I conditioned to believe that? I peeked out the window to bid adieu as we took off from Jaisalmer Airport and it suddenly hit me. That this desert land is desolate. Its royal history has become something for tourists to consume and that’s what feeds its population, not mother earth. With the economic viability being as bleak as it is today, were things better here back in 1707, the birth year of our first known ancestor Baba Jassa as per the family tree? It couldn’t have been. That’s why we were bandits on the Indian Silk Route. The priest at the temple may have been kind to use the word ‘diaspora’, but, in actuality it was more likely an exodus. Perhaps my forefathers left these barren wastelands for the greener pastures of Sialkot in Pakistan in the early 19th century, where word of mouth through generations tells us that we became farmers. By the mid-1800s we were land owners in Lahore where my father was born; in fact we amassed wealth as moneylenders, by taking land registries as collateral against cash given, and acquiring property after borrower defaults. Not much different from what I have spent my career doing, of course in a legal manner however. And after the partition, once the British Raj’s control was dismantled in 1947 and India gained independence, how we left everything in Lahore when my father was just two years old and moved to New Delhi, where I was born. Time, and the things it does to families; the distance it creates from generation to generation, the memories which remain, the yearning to know the unknown. We are travelers through a limited construct of space. Just as there is growth and likely evolution as a product of circumstance, there also must undeniably be downfall and destruction given the preferences of choice – it is the order of the universe, the nature of the nameless. I just wish I could have discovered more. As I started piecing the travels in my lifetime and how Audy has joined me on this voyage for my remaining years, I realized how far we had already come, yet how much further we both still must go. ‘What is going on in that mind of yours? Say something Binny!’ exclaimed my lovely wife. I looked over at her and said, ‘I think there’s a direct correlation between your bohemian-style fashion sense and the gypsy soul I have inherited from my ancestors.’‘Now that, my husband, is a story to write about,’ she said.I came home physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted to my parents. My father could sense it. He said it seemed as though I had returned home after completing a laborious task rather than celebrating a jolly occasion. And he mentioned with admiration, that I was the first known member of our entire extended family, living or dead, to have recorded this trip to our ancestral home, and that, within itself, was a considerable achievement. So time perhaps had me personally evolve from being that teenaged boy who operated in a manner “old school”, into a man that was simply old fashioned. “I’m Old Fashioned” by
John Coltrane [John Coltrane] https://music.apple.com/…/im-old-fashioned/724748588…
... Post Script Notes: After detailed discussions with my Father once returning and sharing observations, my final assessment on our ancestry was validated. As for adopting Bhatia as our surname was concerned, we determined that it may have always been used but never recorded in our family tree. Similarly, the name Singh begins appearing around 1850 in the tree. It cannot be concluded that we converted to Sikhism at that point as given that we are Rajputs, Singh as middle name is commonly used even today by Hindus. So when we converted to Sikhism will always remain a question mark, however, we can confirm with a high-level of confidence that at least for six generations prior to me, we were Sikhs. Acknowledgements: Sirous Thampi – The “old-school” labeler from the opening lines of Part IManreet Deol– Jeweler Extraordinaire and
Manifest Designowner from Part II
Kuldip Mammaji and Jagjit Mammiji for leading me to Jaisalmer.Deepinder G Singhand Gurinder Singh – for pampering Audy and I silly prior to the Jaisalmer leg of our trip from Part II
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April 12, 2021
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐗
Part IV the hunt ‘Sir, its 1030am. The breakfast buffet closes at 11,’ said the pakora boy from the previous night.We could hear him but I literally couldn’t move. Audy was in the bathroom brushing her teeth.‘What is he saying,’ she asked.‘Breakfast now or never bubba,’ I responded, ‘I can’t even get out of bed.’‘Why? What’s wrong with you?’‘Siiiirr! The kitchen closes in 30 minutes. Please wake up,’ said the pakora boy.‘Come inside for a second, Ahmed,’ I asked him, ‘I need to talk to you.’As he entered the tent and as I laid flat on the bed I said, “…there’s a grasshopper on the roof, please take care of it?’‘Allahu Akbar!’ he yelled. ‘Sir, please get out of bed immediately.’‘What? Why? I can hardly reach over to pick up my phone.’The manager heard the pakora boy’s scream and came running in with two of his staff as Audy jolted out of the bathroom.‘Please leave the room Sir and Madam. We need to capture the scorpion,’ said the manager. Despite the urgency, the body decided to cooperate in sloth like fashion. That dubious camel ride from the previous afternoon had taken a significant toll on the back and legs. While walking to the cafeteria, Audy disclosed that she wasn’t sure whether it was insect or arachnid as she was half asleep, but said what she had so that I wouldn’t obsess about it till dawn. ‘She knows me all too well’, I thought. As we ate the manager came and informed, ‘We got the scorpion, Sir, and we killed it. It wasn’t poisonous by the way.’Why the hell would they kill it if it wasn’t poisonous? They could have just released it and let it roam throughout the desert! Or was he just saying that to make me feel better? I wasn’t sure so I left those thoughts aside and asked, ‘Hey, given that you are a local I think you could help me get some information…I need to know where Bhati Village is?’ ‘Bhati Village…’ he paused to think, ‘…sir, there is no such place around here. Let me check and get back to you. You and Madam please relax till late afternoon, you have a desert safari later today.’‘A desert safari? I’m having difficulty walking back to our room!’ I thought. There was plenty of time, and I hadn’t forgotten that dealing with the aftereffects of the previous night’s argument was essential and of utmost importance. Audy began folding her clothes which were still hanging off the chairs and the coffee table from yesterday afternoon and I attempted to help, but assistance was declined. I was told to rest a body aching. I held her elbow and slid my hand to hers and requested that she have a seat so that we could talk. There were no attributes in pinpointing the details of the verbal altercation from last evening so I had to take a higher path in reconciliation. I shared open heartedly my feelings on our accomplishments during our first year of marriage and my appreciation for her as my wife and as a compassionate daughter-in-law; how unlikely the latter was in modern days’ time and age, and how grateful my parents felt especially given the fact that we both decided to remain in India to provide care given the risks of leaving them alone during the accelerating pandemic. She was silent. I then asked for her forgiveness from the quarrel from the night before. She accepted it and apologized in return, mentioning that she had also made certain statements which fueled the flame and had things get out of control. ‘You know which animal you remind me of?’ she asked.‘Tell me.’‘You’re a lion. One that shouldn’t be bothered when hungry or tired.’‘A lion who got his ass kicked by a fucking camel,’ I responded, ‘by the way…happy anniversary Audy.’‘Happy anniversary boo.’ 
The air was cleared and the afternoon passed quickly. More guests had been arriving and the camp was nearly full. The mind and body at 5 p.m. were both hoping that the desert safari would be canceled, as I wouldn’t even be able to ask Audy to reconsider given the obvious. 
I was not as fortunate, so I reminded myself that luck always favors the brave. We were off to the sand dunes in an army type jeep and during the excursion, moments of both rushing adrenaline and soothing calmness were experienced. The desert possessed this mystic energy, something I couldn’t immediately figure out, but was sure that it would come to me later. We returned to the camp as the evening performances were about to begin, and as we quickly walked back to our rooms we met a couple from Gujarat who had just arrived. It was in fact their one year anniversary on March 10, just the day before, and we decided to sit together during the entertainment. 
As the two hour long performance neared its end, the main singer of the group went from left to right picking members of the audience at random and asking for their names one by one so that he could impromptu lines of poetry based on what he had observed for each. And then he came around to unexpectedly pick me last.‘What is your name good Sir?’ he said.‘Bhatia,’ I respondedHe freestyled:“To the man from Bhati, Sir Bhatia:It is a common belief when they say that elderly folk know not how to engage in love.But when we, the children observe them,The subtle reality emerges,That they truly mustn’t even know the limits of it,” he said. I sat there astonished, not just from his effulgent verses but by him mentioning that I was from Bhati Village, as if he had already known when I had simply given him my last name. He then began performing the final song of the performance and serendipity had it to be the same Rajasthani folk song, “Nimbooda Nimbooda”, I had asked the family troupe of musicians to sing, those whom I had played with from the desert a day earlier. I was transfixed, floating in bewilderment, and amazement at the same time. It was so close to an out-of-body experience, that other than taking a couple of congratulatory calls for our anniversary, I can still hardly recall anything else from that evening after this performance. ..As we checked out the following morning and walked to the taxi another thing had become entirely evident – the lion who got his ass kicked by the camel was now walking like a penguin. All credit went to the army jeep, its fanatic driver and the curvy sand dunes. While heading to the city I asked the driver if he knew the location of Bhati Village. He looked clueless. ‘How does not anyone from here know where this place is,’ I thought. Upon arriving at Jaisalmer Marriott and as our room was being prepared, I walked over to the concierge, as Audy sat comfortably in the lobby, to ask about the location of the village. He was as oblivious as the taxi driver. A hotel trainee grabbed our bags and said: ‘Right this way Mr. Bhatia, let me take you to your room 201. You have been upgraded,’ he said.‘Oh that’s nice. Where are you from, Bharat,’ I asked after looking at his nametag while getting into the lift.‘I am from here, born in Jaisalmer, Sir,’ he responded.‘Was your grandfather born in Jaisalmer as well?’‘Yes Sir. My forefathers are from here, at least five generations prior to me,’ he said confidently.‘Okay. Do you know of a place called Bhati Village,’ I asked.‘Umm…no…why do you ask Sir? Please let me know how I can help.’‘I am told that my known heritage is from here. That’s the reason why I came.’ I said.‘Your surname certainly rings a bell, Sir. Let me find out for you. I will let you know as soon as possible.’ The trainee seemed genuine. This cat was punchy, had an old school bop of his own, and didn’t seem like one of those young employees who would make you believe that they could solve everything just to coin a tip. To which I realized when he dropped my bags in the room, that I had no small change to give him. Regardless, he declined and said that he was just doing his duty. “Now’s The Time” https://music.apple.com/th/album/nows-the-time/1425174947… [image error] [Charlie Parker] 
After attending a couple of conference calls, we spent the rest of the day roaming throughout the hotel and had more surprises – from a bed that was decorated with flowers to complimentary drinks at dinner, no expense was spared by the property.Clever flow indeed! 
..The following day we were off to Jaisalmer Fort for the first half. Having a guide who told us its history and that it was still the only living fort in India was enlightening. We also learned that the coronation of the new King had taken place just a couple of months earlier in the fort. 
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[image error] Previous Next We returned back to the hotel for lunch. I searched for Bharat the trainee and after sneaking up behind him, grabbed his arm and said,‘My surname rings a bell?! There’s a whole bazaar with my last name!”‘No that’s not why I mentioned it, Sir.’ He was startled. ‘There’s a temple with a deity that is known to be for the Bhatias. All members of the clan congregate there once a year. I am trying to find the location,’ he said.‘Shit…sorry, my bad! Listen tomorrow is my last full day here and I’m off the following morning,’ I said.‘Noted Sir. I will have the details for you by the evening.’ After another order of kathi rolls we were off to the second tourist spot, Bada Bagh. The tranquility felt upon entering the grounds must have had a story behind it. As we walked up to the structures we learned that they were cenotaphs or burial grounds where royals deceased had been cremated since the 18th century, and most recently with the passing of Maharawal Brij Raj Singh on December 29, 2020. I didn’t need to know any more of this place’s history from the tour guides who were chasing us. This wasn’t that kind of place. Audy and I walked around, sat at a place overlooking the mangroves where there was an intermittent breeze. It was beautiful and serene especially as the sun began to set. 
Previous Next We rescheduled the visit to Gadisar Lake for the following day as a result and instead decided to go shopping for more colorful turbans and scarfs as gifts for my parents. Upon returning to the hotel and as we walked to the lifts, I heard steps slowly running to catch me, and as I turned there was a panting yet simultaneously smiling Bharat.‘The name of your temple is Kulariyarai. You need to head to Roopsi Village, and on the main road you will come to a small village called Chhatrel. At that intersection where you must take a right. Once you travel down the following road you will see a small hill on the left side and small road leading to it. The temple is there’, he mentioned.‘Wait. Rupsi, Chatrail intersection make a right. Got it! You are sure that’s where I need to go,’ I asked.‘Yes Sir. I am certain of it. Just follow my instructions and you’ll get there.’ Leave comment below. Part V : The Realization Spread the word!
The air was cleared and the afternoon passed quickly. More guests had been arriving and the camp was nearly full. The mind and body at 5 p.m. were both hoping that the desert safari would be canceled, as I wouldn’t even be able to ask Audy to reconsider given the obvious. I was not as fortunate, so I reminded myself that luck always favors the brave. We were off to the sand dunes in an army type jeep and during the excursion, moments of both rushing adrenaline and soothing calmness were experienced. The desert possessed this mystic energy, something I couldn’t immediately figure out, but was sure that it would come to me later. We returned to the camp as the evening performances were about to begin, and as we quickly walked back to our rooms we met a couple from Gujarat who had just arrived. It was in fact their one year anniversary on March 10, just the day before, and we decided to sit together during the entertainment. As the two hour long performance neared its end, the main singer of the group went from left to right picking members of the audience at random and asking for their names one by one so that he could impromptu lines of poetry based on what he had observed for each. And then he came around to unexpectedly pick me last.‘What is your name good Sir?’ he said.‘Bhatia,’ I respondedHe freestyled:“To the man from Bhati, Sir Bhatia:It is a common belief when they say that elderly folk know not how to engage in love.But when we, the children observe them,The subtle reality emerges,That they truly mustn’t even know the limits of it,” he said. I sat there astonished, not just from his effulgent verses but by him mentioning that I was from Bhati Village, as if he had already known when I had simply given him my last name. He then began performing the final song of the performance and serendipity had it to be the same Rajasthani folk song, “Nimbooda Nimbooda”, I had asked the family troupe of musicians to sing, those whom I had played with from the desert a day earlier. I was transfixed, floating in bewilderment, and amazement at the same time. It was so close to an out-of-body experience, that other than taking a couple of congratulatory calls for our anniversary, I can still hardly recall anything else from that evening after this performance. ..As we checked out the following morning and walked to the taxi another thing had become entirely evident – the lion who got his ass kicked by the camel was now walking like a penguin. All credit went to the army jeep, its fanatic driver and the curvy sand dunes. While heading to the city I asked the driver if he knew the location of Bhati Village. He looked clueless. ‘How does not anyone from here know where this place is,’ I thought. Upon arriving at Jaisalmer Marriott and as our room was being prepared, I walked over to the concierge, as Audy sat comfortably in the lobby, to ask about the location of the village. He was as oblivious as the taxi driver. A hotel trainee grabbed our bags and said: ‘Right this way Mr. Bhatia, let me take you to your room 201. You have been upgraded,’ he said.‘Oh that’s nice. Where are you from, Bharat,’ I asked after looking at his nametag while getting into the lift.‘I am from here, born in Jaisalmer, Sir,’ he responded.‘Was your grandfather born in Jaisalmer as well?’‘Yes Sir. My forefathers are from here, at least five generations prior to me,’ he said confidently.‘Okay. Do you know of a place called Bhati Village,’ I asked.‘Umm…no…why do you ask Sir? Please let me know how I can help.’‘I am told that my known heritage is from here. That’s the reason why I came.’ I said.‘Your surname certainly rings a bell, Sir. Let me find out for you. I will let you know as soon as possible.’ The trainee seemed genuine. This cat was punchy, had an old school bop of his own, and didn’t seem like one of those young employees who would make you believe that they could solve everything just to coin a tip. To which I realized when he dropped my bags in the room, that I had no small change to give him. Regardless, he declined and said that he was just doing his duty. “Now’s The Time” https://music.apple.com/th/album/nows-the-time/1425174947… [image error] [Charlie Parker] So as we settled in, I threw on some Charlie Parker. The lukewarm water in the bathroom was so calming that I decided to sit down on the shower pan with the water running all over the body before I started lathering the loofah to bathe. ‘This is way better than the freezing cold water in the camp,’ I thought. Audy was lounging on the sofa, which was really just a sitting area extension against the wall, and overlooked the beautiful courtyard of the hotel. We decided to order room service for lunch and along with the tasty chicken kathi rolls arrived a cake with “Happy Anniversary” written on it.
After attending a couple of conference calls, we spent the rest of the day roaming throughout the hotel and had more surprises – from a bed that was decorated with flowers to complimentary drinks at dinner, no expense was spared by the property.Clever flow indeed! ..The following day we were off to Jaisalmer Fort for the first half. Having a guide who told us its history and that it was still the only living fort in India was enlightening. We also learned that the coronation of the new King had taken place just a couple of months earlier in the fort. Previous Next After visiting the Jain and Hindu temples within and several historical sites around, we strolled down to the market near the entrance, and to our surprise noticed that the Bhatia name was on the shop signs of almost every other store. I learned later that this market is, in fact, known as the Bhatia Bazaar.
[image error][image error][image error] Previous Next We returned back to the hotel for lunch. I searched for Bharat the trainee and after sneaking up behind him, grabbed his arm and said,‘My surname rings a bell?! There’s a whole bazaar with my last name!”‘No that’s not why I mentioned it, Sir.’ He was startled. ‘There’s a temple with a deity that is known to be for the Bhatias. All members of the clan congregate there once a year. I am trying to find the location,’ he said.‘Shit…sorry, my bad! Listen tomorrow is my last full day here and I’m off the following morning,’ I said.‘Noted Sir. I will have the details for you by the evening.’ After another order of kathi rolls we were off to the second tourist spot, Bada Bagh. The tranquility felt upon entering the grounds must have had a story behind it. As we walked up to the structures we learned that they were cenotaphs or burial grounds where royals deceased had been cremated since the 18th century, and most recently with the passing of Maharawal Brij Raj Singh on December 29, 2020. I didn’t need to know any more of this place’s history from the tour guides who were chasing us. This wasn’t that kind of place. Audy and I walked around, sat at a place overlooking the mangroves where there was an intermittent breeze. It was beautiful and serene especially as the sun began to set. Previous Next We rescheduled the visit to Gadisar Lake for the following day as a result and instead decided to go shopping for more colorful turbans and scarfs as gifts for my parents. Upon returning to the hotel and as we walked to the lifts, I heard steps slowly running to catch me, and as I turned there was a panting yet simultaneously smiling Bharat.‘The name of your temple is Kulariyarai. You need to head to Roopsi Village, and on the main road you will come to a small village called Chhatrel. At that intersection where you must take a right. Once you travel down the following road you will see a small hill on the left side and small road leading to it. The temple is there’, he mentioned.‘Wait. Rupsi, Chatrail intersection make a right. Got it! You are sure that’s where I need to go,’ I asked.‘Yes Sir. I am certain of it. Just follow my instructions and you’ll get there.’ Leave comment below. Part V : The Realization Spread the word! The post 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 : 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑽 first appeared on ARBIND BHATIA.
April 7, 2021
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐗
Part III the desert After a day’s rest, the escapade was about to begin. The 10 a.m. flight from Delhi in a propeller plane was more frightening than anything else due specifically to the narrow distance between the seats ahead, behind as well as across. Luckily, mask-wearing was strictly adhered to and not a sneeze or cough was heard throughout the flight. [image error] As we descended into the civil enclave of the Air Force base and looked out the window, the Jaisalmer Fort was shining gold. It was a scorching afternoon and after a couple of quick stops in the city, we headed straight to the desert camp. I began feeling uneasy as we drove through the outskirts, not due to the heat, but rather from the memory of my last visit to a desert city. Losing a friend after having been left deserted in Abu Dhabi is truly unforgettable as mentioned in Chapter 5 titled ‘An Ambivalent Reception’ of the book. I realized once we checked in and were shown to our rooms that I had completed overestimated the provisions. ‘How the hell does this place have the word exotic as a prefix to desert camp?! The air condition better be working’, I thought. The manager suggested that we rest until the sun was closer to the horizon, cooling the weather for the camel ride. Audy on the other hand was fiddling to a different tune. After a cup of coffee the suitcases were opened bare; each of her packed clothing items was either being displayed on the bed or hanging off the two chairs in the room. I couldn’t even find a place to sit. Determining what would be the proper attire for a long awaited camel ride, she relentlessly mixed and matched, and demanded my opinion on every attempt. I thought the first outfit was perfect for the occasion and excused myself from the room. The couple of hours since we had arrived wasn’t enough to properly chill the Chardonnay bought in the city, but I returned to the room from the lobby kitchenette with it, and two crystal wine glasses anyhow. ‘Cheers Audy! To our first anniversary!’ I said.‘It’s 4 o’clock Binny, I still need to do my makeup. Are you sure this is the time to have a drink? We have a camel ride in an hour’ she responded.‘Camels are peaceful animals. I’m sure ours will understand anyway. Have you decided what you’re wearing,’ I asked.‘I’m still not sure.’‘Lovely, best of luck with that.’‘Don’t you need to figure out what you have to wear’ she asked.‘I already have. White kurta, white jodhpuri and the colorful turban picked up from the city,’ I responded, ‘…will need to use the mirror to tie it so if you could grace the bathroom with freedom, I’d greatly appreciate it.’ Her eyes pierced as the head slowly tilted backwards which could have only meant that my sneering remark was duly acknowledged but certainly not appreciated. It was an emotional time and I should have known better. She helped fold my turban within the hour and I was fully dressed with a moustache perfectly waxed within 15 minutes. She sat moody in the outside area of the room after finally getting ready for the upcoming excursion and I thought that it would be appropriate to give her the gift which was hidden in my backpack.She was happily surprised not just by the gesture or the design of the two necklaces but also by the fact that it complemented the outfit she had chosen to wear, the first of which she had actually tried on. 
[John Coltrane] Leave comment below. Part IV : The Hunt Spread the word!
The camel keeper had arrived and Audy insisted that she’d sit in the front. It’s not difficult to appease a wife’s demands a half bottle in. However, it was an unwise choice. Given that I was untrained with the physics of this animal’s movement, sitting on the back arc of the hump as the camel walked had me look like I was in questionable motion.
Of course I complained humorously, thanks to the wine, till we reached the sand dunes and dismounted. Walking through the silky sands with serenity from one dune to another hand-in-hand as the sun was setting was nothing short of magic.
We sat to chat and take pictures when we noticed three men from a distance walking directly towards us. They were three generations of musicians, and the grandfather insisted that we listen to some traditional songs. He tuned his harmonium and instructed his son, the drummer, and his grandson with khartal sheets to begin playing. The tempo, the rhythm and the sounds had me in a trance immediately and within a minute after requesting an old Rajasthani folk song, I decided to join the band, informing them that I was going to rap. They were very confused! As I prepared to weave into their flow, a rendition of my marriage proposal which is described in Chapter 2 titled “The Engagement” of the book, was the only idea that came to mind. With a presto tempo, I entered the musical swordplay to recite the verses and each of the members of the band observed closely to see the breaks in my pattern, leaving them with no choice other than to mesh the song I had requested with my instructions and conclude the performance. Their expressions were priceless. It was perhaps the most exhilarating experience since the lockdown, both for myself and the troupe.
As the moon became visible at dusk and as we cameled our way back, Audy instructed the keeper to remove the weakest passenger. The back, hamstring and groin muscles had gone for a complete toss and I just couldn’t survive another thrust from the hump without being thrown off. Upon our return to the camp we learned that there would be no further events as only one room was being occupied that evening, but we were also told that local song and dance performances would be scheduled for the following. As consolation, we were given some fried pakoras to eat. ‘Damn! I guess that means no meal either’, I said to Audy. We sat at the roof top of the sandstone structure which housed the reception underneath drinking the second bottle of wine as we went through all the pictures and videos from earlier. The stars were shining bright. I was physically exhausted and other than making the customary call to my parents highlighting the adventures for the day I could barely have a conversation with Audy. ‘Sir, dinner is being served’, said the waiter almost over an hour later.‘What? You never told us. I thought this was dinner. You gave us three plates of pakoras. I am not eating anymore,’ I responded.‘No, we should. They made it for us. Otherwise it will go to waste,’ Audy replied.‘We have a video call with Nant soon right? I told you my phone battery is almost done and I need to charge it.’ I said amidst a bit of confusion.‘Ok. So we’ll ask them to send the food to the room’, she said.‘No we will eat in the cafeteria after I charge my phone,’ I said.‘Look at the time Binny. It’s already late. You’re tired and not making any sense!’ That conversation was the genesis of our first fight as a married couple on the eve of our first anniversary. It spawned such unnecessary resentment, touching upon all the frivolous aspects of our relationship that in hindsight seems so ridiculous. Voices were raised, tears shed. And things didn’t get any better after the 90 minute argument once Audy fell asleep after eating a meal cold. I sat on the chair next to the coffee table covered with her clothes and looked upwards to the roof of the tent. There was a scorpion sitting at the meeting point of the rods where the sheets met. It could fall and land directly on the bed! I slithered my way in and attempted to wake Audy. She was out cold. After shrugging her once again, she turned to me with those same piercing eyes and I said, ‘Hey…It’s midnight. Happy anniversary bubba!’‘Hmmm’ she responded.‘Wait…there’s something else. It’s very urgent! Look up! There’s a scorpion right above us.’She got up, looked closely and said, ‘That’s not a scorpion. It’s a grasshopper.’‘What? No way!’ I responded.‘Please don’t bother me. I need to sleep,’ she said. I was terrified. I wouldn’t stand up on the bed to get a closer look. What if it she was wrong and it attacked in defense? This risk was far too great. Uneasiness turned into internal panic. So I could do only one thing to calm the nerves. I put on the headphones to jazz things up and distract myself from whatever the thing on the tent roof was. [John Coltrane] Enter John Coltrane. The sensitive bebop soothed the senses and had me begin to wonder why I was feeling so uncomfortable in a place that had had an imprint on my genetic code. ‘I chose to visit this place to know where I come from. Why is my mind rejecting it’, I thought. I was more focused on the ambience and less the purpose, and that had put things completely off track.
‘I need to fix this. The first thing that I gotta do when I wake up is make amends with Audy!’ Leave comment below. Part IV : The Hunt Spread the word! The post 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 : 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 first appeared on ARBIND BHATIA.
April 4, 2021
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐗
Part II the search As I began the pursuit of finding a gift I remembered a dear friend of mine whom I had met just months prior to my near-death accident in 2013. Her techniques in jewelry making had developed considerably, and in fact, I had already become a customer since. Audy adored the pieces she made. So I rang her up to learn that she had just finished her latest collection and then sent me some pictures. Intrigued by the first design, 
[manifestdesign.in] I asked for some background on the necklaces and learned that the elegant metal pieces were sourced from a deaf and mute artisan from Reha, a small village in Kutch, Gujarat, and she decided to expand on his expertise by sandcasting thin brass elements into them. The artisan couldn’t believe how beautiful they looked when she was done. The thread to be worn around the neck was made from someone else in Rajasthan and the final piece was assembled by her team in Goa. I was completely sold. Boom! It seemed as though all things were falling into place for the anniversary trip. I quickly checked to see where brass falls on the traditional anniversary gift list and it was nowhere to be found. Cotton or paper seemed to plain, so I concluded that our first will be titled our brass anniversary. At the end of February after I received my copies of the book from the first print run, I decided to visit my paternal Great Uncle and Aunt to give them one. My Great Uncle, of course, was gracious in writing an eloquent Foreword for the book, at 90 years young. They were pleased to receive it and us, so they asked if we would join them over a cup of tea, to spend some time in getting to know the newest daughter of the family. In the midst of Audy being asked about her family, I took the opportunity to ask my paternal Great Uncle about the history of ours and this is how the conversation went: ‘Papa mentioned that our ancestors were desert dacoits, Kuldip Mammaji, is it true’, I asked.‘We were smalltime bandits on the Indian Silk Route, not pillaging desert dacoits, so please mind your words’, he responded.‘Um…sorry. So where in Rajasthan are we actually from’, I asked.‘We come from a place called Bhati Village. It is in Jaisalmer, you must visit,’ he said, ‘I was once told that there is a temple with a female deity, which has protected the land for centuries.’‘Interesting. Then the whole clan must’ve migrated to modern day Pakistan at some point,’ I mentioned.‘No. Not all of us. One sect went to Gujarat, the Kutch District,’ he said, ‘this is where the modern day Kutchi Bhatias come from. We are the modern day Lahori (Punjabi) Bhatias.’ I turned to Audy and said, ‘Change of plans…we are going to Jaisalmer!’‘I still need to have a camel ride’, she replied.‘Yeah, fine. Figure out how and where and we’ll do it,’ I said....‘Kush’ https://music.apple.com/th/album/kush/1425184067… Leave comment below Part III : The Desert Spread the word!
[manifestdesign.in] I asked for some background on the necklaces and learned that the elegant metal pieces were sourced from a deaf and mute artisan from Reha, a small village in Kutch, Gujarat, and she decided to expand on his expertise by sandcasting thin brass elements into them. The artisan couldn’t believe how beautiful they looked when she was done. The thread to be worn around the neck was made from someone else in Rajasthan and the final piece was assembled by her team in Goa. I was completely sold. Boom! It seemed as though all things were falling into place for the anniversary trip. I quickly checked to see where brass falls on the traditional anniversary gift list and it was nowhere to be found. Cotton or paper seemed to plain, so I concluded that our first will be titled our brass anniversary. At the end of February after I received my copies of the book from the first print run, I decided to visit my paternal Great Uncle and Aunt to give them one. My Great Uncle, of course, was gracious in writing an eloquent Foreword for the book, at 90 years young. They were pleased to receive it and us, so they asked if we would join them over a cup of tea, to spend some time in getting to know the newest daughter of the family. In the midst of Audy being asked about her family, I took the opportunity to ask my paternal Great Uncle about the history of ours and this is how the conversation went: ‘Papa mentioned that our ancestors were desert dacoits, Kuldip Mammaji, is it true’, I asked.‘We were smalltime bandits on the Indian Silk Route, not pillaging desert dacoits, so please mind your words’, he responded.‘Um…sorry. So where in Rajasthan are we actually from’, I asked.‘We come from a place called Bhati Village. It is in Jaisalmer, you must visit,’ he said, ‘I was once told that there is a temple with a female deity, which has protected the land for centuries.’‘Interesting. Then the whole clan must’ve migrated to modern day Pakistan at some point,’ I mentioned.‘No. Not all of us. One sect went to Gujarat, the Kutch District,’ he said, ‘this is where the modern day Kutchi Bhatias come from. We are the modern day Lahori (Punjabi) Bhatias.’ I turned to Audy and said, ‘Change of plans…we are going to Jaisalmer!’‘I still need to have a camel ride’, she replied.‘Yeah, fine. Figure out how and where and we’ll do it,’ I said....‘Kush’ https://music.apple.com/th/album/kush/1425184067… 
[Dizzy Gillespie]
This Dizzy Gillespie track and its album were running on repeat while I was in Mumbai the following week for work. It was the first flight taken and the first face-to-face appointments since February 2020.
The flow of my steps stuttering in tandem with the bounce of the Afro-Cuban beats as I walked from meeting to meeting had things feeling just right. Upon my return, a trip already well planned by Audy during my absence was finalized, and we were to head off the day after the following to first spend two nights with my Great Uncle and Aunt’s daughter and her husband at their home in Gurgaon as the first leg of our trip to Rajasthan.
She was, of course, my confidant during the publishing of the book and had made an invitation immediately after learning of the scheduled historical journey. Upon landing in Jaisalmer, we were to head straight to the desert the first two nights where all outdoor activities were to take place. The following three days would be spent in the city where all tourist spots would be seen, and undoubtedly when a visit to my ancestral village would take place.
Leave comment below Part III : The Desert Spread the word! The post 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓: 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 first appeared on ARBIND BHATIA.
April 1, 2021
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐗
Part I the setup I was once told by a dear friend in my youth that I generally operate in a manner which is “old school”. I took it as a compliment thinking that it was cool. Sometimes labels that are given by those close who identify characteristics within another are like names, prescribed with the hope to see it unravel and grow as they travel along the path of life. Of course if one is truly fortunate it manifests, perhaps evolves even.
[Louis Armstrong] As the sands of time had Audy and I patiently await our first revolution around the sun as a married couple, I began the hunt for something unusual in early February, in that special kind of way to deem how to celebrate the occasion in suitable fashion. No targets could be identified immediately. So I decided to shuffle the sounds of jazz hoping for subtle inspiration. Plans for the immaculate beaches of the Nicobar Islands had been considered, but it seemed too obvious, too common. Perhaps it just wasn’t sandy enough. A smoother and certainly little less raspy element than the all too well known voice of Louis Armstrong was in order. Something had to give, so I put the jukebox on random search as I began reading “One Hundred Years Of Solitude”, an epic tale of family through several generations written by the literary maestro Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I became lost in thought having read the first 40 pages, and was inching closer to a conclusion: that as two married individuals we have perhaps been ordained with the divine responsibility of extending both our lineages if we so choose to, with the blessings of the nameless of course. There’s no other way heritage can be created.
[Duke Ellington] Enter Duke Ellington. The scores of composition and the legacy he left behind had me thinking about the roots of this musical genre, and in turn, that of my family. I remember being shown our family tree by my Grandfather many years ago. He mentioned that our ancestry traces back to the early 18th century and pointed out that the first recorded member of our family nine generations ahead of me, Baba Jassa, was born in 1707 in Rajasthan. The family tree was inscribed initially in Farsi and then written in Punjabi three generations later and ultimately in English, I recalled. But what had remained unclear was how we adopted our last name, Bhatia, in the early 19th century. I had asked my father just a month earlier and he mentioned that our known origins are near the border of India and Pakistan, and are most likely from the desert state. Leaving those thoughts to brew, I subsequently shortlisted the colorfully romantic cities of Jaipur and Jodhpur as the likely venues to commemorate our first anniversary. Audy was excited to hear and insisted on a camel ride during the trip. I noted the request while attempting to channel my focus on the decorations for the affair; no anniversary is complete without a gift, especially on the first. However it does takes time for a newcomer to something to learn the ropes of anything. I was completely lost, engulfed by cluelessness. On one shoulder sat the thought. ‘Hey, you published a book about your marriage just a couple of weeks before the anniversary. How is that not enough?’, and on the other a reality check echoed, ‘Get real. It’s been a hell of year together. Reflect man!’And so I did. While I have shared somewhat lightheartedly in the Epilogue of the book, there was one innermost anecdote which I was told by my wife around July of last year. Lockdowns had been lifted to support falling economies around the globe but restrictions on travel and the general indolence that many were plagued with brought on a peculiar air of malaise. None of my deals were moving. I was becoming increasingly restless; a mind so active that when it was disturbed met with a snappy bark, one similar to that of a bitch being distracted while feeding her pups. I remember the following conversation we had one evening: ‘What makes you feel so down’, she asked.‘I think you know what’, I responded.‘So that’s the only thing that makes you happy?’‘No, there are other things.”‘But it is the only thing that is making you feel down, right’, she said after brief silence, ‘I want to share something that I haven’t told you yet.’.During one summer, her Grandfather, whom she was raised by, instructed her parents to take their daughter during the school break so that she could actually spend some time with them and get to know them better. They trekked six hours to pick her up in their ancestral home in Phimai and traveled back to their one bedroom apartment in Min Buri. Both her parents were employed and after giving her breakfast at 730 a.m. they headed to their respective places of work. ‘What did you do after they left’, I asked.‘Just stayed in the room and watched TV’, she mentioned.‘How did you eat lunch?’ At around 1130 a.m. every day, someone from the lobby would buzz up to the apartment. The same motorcycle taxi driver would show up daily. Sent by her mother from her place of work, he would bring one raw papaya for her. Audy would go back up to the apartment and make herself a spicy som-tum salad with different ingredients and condiments from the refrigerator. That kept her fed and the karaoke machine had her entertained till the time her parents came back home from work. Leave comment below. Part II : The Search Spread the word!
[Louis Armstrong] As the sands of time had Audy and I patiently await our first revolution around the sun as a married couple, I began the hunt for something unusual in early February, in that special kind of way to deem how to celebrate the occasion in suitable fashion. No targets could be identified immediately. So I decided to shuffle the sounds of jazz hoping for subtle inspiration. Plans for the immaculate beaches of the Nicobar Islands had been considered, but it seemed too obvious, too common. Perhaps it just wasn’t sandy enough. A smoother and certainly little less raspy element than the all too well known voice of Louis Armstrong was in order. Something had to give, so I put the jukebox on random search as I began reading “One Hundred Years Of Solitude”, an epic tale of family through several generations written by the literary maestro Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I became lost in thought having read the first 40 pages, and was inching closer to a conclusion: that as two married individuals we have perhaps been ordained with the divine responsibility of extending both our lineages if we so choose to, with the blessings of the nameless of course. There’s no other way heritage can be created.
[Duke Ellington] Enter Duke Ellington. The scores of composition and the legacy he left behind had me thinking about the roots of this musical genre, and in turn, that of my family. I remember being shown our family tree by my Grandfather many years ago. He mentioned that our ancestry traces back to the early 18th century and pointed out that the first recorded member of our family nine generations ahead of me, Baba Jassa, was born in 1707 in Rajasthan. The family tree was inscribed initially in Farsi and then written in Punjabi three generations later and ultimately in English, I recalled. But what had remained unclear was how we adopted our last name, Bhatia, in the early 19th century. I had asked my father just a month earlier and he mentioned that our known origins are near the border of India and Pakistan, and are most likely from the desert state. Leaving those thoughts to brew, I subsequently shortlisted the colorfully romantic cities of Jaipur and Jodhpur as the likely venues to commemorate our first anniversary. Audy was excited to hear and insisted on a camel ride during the trip. I noted the request while attempting to channel my focus on the decorations for the affair; no anniversary is complete without a gift, especially on the first. However it does takes time for a newcomer to something to learn the ropes of anything. I was completely lost, engulfed by cluelessness. On one shoulder sat the thought. ‘Hey, you published a book about your marriage just a couple of weeks before the anniversary. How is that not enough?’, and on the other a reality check echoed, ‘Get real. It’s been a hell of year together. Reflect man!’And so I did. While I have shared somewhat lightheartedly in the Epilogue of the book, there was one innermost anecdote which I was told by my wife around July of last year. Lockdowns had been lifted to support falling economies around the globe but restrictions on travel and the general indolence that many were plagued with brought on a peculiar air of malaise. None of my deals were moving. I was becoming increasingly restless; a mind so active that when it was disturbed met with a snappy bark, one similar to that of a bitch being distracted while feeding her pups. I remember the following conversation we had one evening: ‘What makes you feel so down’, she asked.‘I think you know what’, I responded.‘So that’s the only thing that makes you happy?’‘No, there are other things.”‘But it is the only thing that is making you feel down, right’, she said after brief silence, ‘I want to share something that I haven’t told you yet.’.During one summer, her Grandfather, whom she was raised by, instructed her parents to take their daughter during the school break so that she could actually spend some time with them and get to know them better. They trekked six hours to pick her up in their ancestral home in Phimai and traveled back to their one bedroom apartment in Min Buri. Both her parents were employed and after giving her breakfast at 730 a.m. they headed to their respective places of work. ‘What did you do after they left’, I asked.‘Just stayed in the room and watched TV’, she mentioned.‘How did you eat lunch?’ At around 1130 a.m. every day, someone from the lobby would buzz up to the apartment. The same motorcycle taxi driver would show up daily. Sent by her mother from her place of work, he would bring one raw papaya for her. Audy would go back up to the apartment and make herself a spicy som-tum salad with different ingredients and condiments from the refrigerator. That kept her fed and the karaoke machine had her entertained till the time her parents came back home from work. ‘I can’t explain to you how happy that papaya being delivered to me every day made me feel’, she said,‘…knowing that my parents actually cared for me.’‘How old were you?’‘Seven’, she replied, ‘I only spent one more summer with my Mom before she died.’I had been showered with a new attitude, a new approach after hearing this story and I began to observe the interaction between her and my mother. As I write in the last section of the book, their relationship as daughter-in-law and mother-in-law living in the same house during a lockdown couldn’t have been more seamless. Teammates were created; not only in the kitchen where Audy learned the recipes of our family which have been passed down from generation to generation, but also as a unified force sending the same message to the respective husband and son, which I found to be a blessing in disguise. It was a year full of peace between us. Not once did she and I find ourselves with a major disagreement or an ongoing argument. The luckiest man alive, I believed myself to be, and realized that writing a book on how we eloped wouldn’t singlehandedly do justice in showing my appreciation as our first year of marriage was about to set.
Leave comment below. Part II : The Search Spread the word! The post 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 : 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 first appeared on ARBIND BHATIA.
