It's confirmed: Sharma and AMAT split after 15 years

As the world was recovering from the sudden end of Eva Longoria and Tony Parker's wonderful marriage, rumors started surfing about another possible split -- something unimaginable -- a few weeks back. Though, I had the access to that secret information, sadistically and yet honestly, I did my prayers for that split. As the popular saying goes, "one man's delusion is another man's faith," I was shocked and surprised to see my last week's delusion turned in to this week's faith!

It's sad to know about Sharma Pamarthy and Miss.AMAT's split.

As good friends, I understand our curiosity to know about what could have happened to such a wonderful couple to go in different ways. Let us consider some facts. Miss.AMAT was his first love out of college. She saw an innocent, charming boy, with a cherubic smile straight from the lanes of Hyderabad, who got lost in the distant land of the "Sooners." Out from the college, he was as raw as a dust of silicon, but she saw the true value in him. She offered him hope; she offered him the dream of making big in the Valley; she gave him all.

Although their age difference was big, she started looking younger and younger, like a ferocious cougar, as Sharma hung around with her, more and more. She took him to places: Taiwan, Germany, you name it! She even swallowed her pride, when he cold heartedly took up a bride. Miss.AMAT showed her grace as she always did.

Her grace could not be told in a simple paragraph. She was there for him when he bought a house for his bride; she was there when he became a dad -- not once, but twice. Never she complained anything to him, and about him. Such was her grace.

She couldn't blame him at all. Why would she? Of all the men she was in a relationship with, Sharma for his part made sure that Miss.AMAT was always fine. He checked with her late in the nights, on the weekends, and always during the vacation when he was with his wonderful bride. She was his altar-ego, a virtual Geisha!

It is not clear, whether Sharma tried breaking up with Miss.AMAT before. If it had ever been, as a general public we might never know, or never we should intend to. It would an infringement to Miss.AMAT's privacy.

A representative for Miss.AMAT issued a following statement on behalf of her, confirming the split:

"It has been a wonderful and a great 15 years of being together. Even though he had a family of his own, the open relationship we had was very special. Thanks to his bride for letting me have the time of my life. The greatest thing I will always have is that, in those fifteen years, he always thought about me. Many a times he had made me feel that I was the special woman who needed the very special care, love and devotion. That feeling is great! Thank you Sharma. I am not going anywhere. I am always here."

-Rajesh

A day to remember

Ever since I got married, the advent of May every year always makes me nervous. Will I remember it on time or not? is the question that bogs me in the early days of that month. As most of you might know, May 21st is Shree's birthday. Though she simply expects a wish, shamefully that itself has become difficult for me to do nowadays. Wait a minute, I do have my excuse. Her birthday falls on the same day as many hollywood women celebrities, and that being the case how come a humble guy like me could remember so many birthdays on the same date. I do have to make some compromises here and there, isn't it Ms.Cher? Hope you liked the flowers from this fan of yours!

I recently read a joke that the best way to remember the wife's birthday forever is to forget it at least once. Trust me, the joke must have been written by a person who has known me. Plagiarism!

I did in many ways to remember: Google calender...check. Making Akshur remember..check. Brainwashing Arhath to keep repeating "May...Amma..." "May....Amma", again and again,...check.

While the scaffolding was being secured to keep me from falling on face, all of a sudden the crook in me wanted to do something different. Nothing romantic like going to an underwater restaurant or anything - just different in my own terms.

This is where the problem was. I am so screwed up that I could think nowadays only in terms of exotic running spots - the places I always liked to run. You would have figured out that, being on a date with me is not an option for a gourmet food. You just have to be satisfied drinking gatorade, and taking water from the tap.

Suddenly, I hit on an idea!

How about, take a day off a week before, and just take Shree to the place where I have always wanted to run! That seemed like a pretty cool idea. I know she was in to hiking, and I took that angle to offer a bait. I was very much worried about her commitment to the Veggelution (plant huggers), but some how my desperation won her attention.

Once I got the approval, it took me an hour to find a place. It was the "Quick Silver" county park in the Almaden valley. I made sure that my manager knew that week on Friday I won't be at work - by Monday itself.

My selection of that place was based on a lot of different factors:

1) Just 15 miles from home, and the evening traffic coming back is not an issue.

2) That place is so isolated that, if I get beaten up due to disagreements, there won't be anybody around to see that.

3) "Quick Silver" was an historical mercury mining site. If my teeth got broken in the brawl (with Shree you got to take all kinds of precautions), I might be able to find some "quick" fix with some left over mercury amalgam.

4) This could be used as a scouting trip to locate nice places and houses, for my wonderful friends RajKishore & Raji, when Raji gets to go to the IBM research labs there.

It was all set. On May 14th, send A & a off to school and get us going on a hiking trip to "Quick Silver". I prayed all along that the plan should not turn in to a "Quick Sand" of hope by letting it slip away. The night before when Arhath coughed a little, I ensured that he had enough dosage of benedril drops.

The last time I technically had a date (only date?) with Shree was the day before Akshur was born. Yep, it was the movie, "Last Samurai". I know, how much of disappointment she had when I turned down her request to invite her parents too.

Fortunately, things worked as planned. At 10 AM sharp last Friday, we were at the county park. Of all the trails, we opted (actually, I had never been on that) a trail that was a decent 9 mile round trip.

Ten minutes in to the hike, Shree got a phone call from one of our friends - well, I don't know whether that caller still considers me a friend after all the furor I created this week - anyway, let us not get lost there, and for now keep it as, one of her friends. Interestingly, the cell service was amazing in this part of the valley.

The gradient of the course was decently high enough to make the hiker take deep breathes. I was doing a pretty good talk and hike, thanks to my recent hill runs (I never waste a moment to glorify myself, aren't I?) and Shree was having a pretty heavy breathing.

So, imagine this scenario.

Caller: Shree, are you free to talk?

Shree (with heavy breath): Go on.

Caller: Why are you breathing this hard?

This is where it gets interesting. Whenever Shree wants to say something, the context or the actual matter is told only at the end. The listener usually has to wait till the whole sentence is completed. I don't know where from she got this trait, but I believe, it could be due to too much reading of Mahabaratha, where she must be fascinated by the most quoted Yudhistar's shout,"Aswathama Hathaha....Kunjaraha." (Google to find the facts about this.)

Thank goodness, she is not in to designing the IP routers, where the concept of "cut through routing" is very important to know the destination of a packet before even it is completely received.

Also, I can't image her writing a screenplay for an adult movie. It will have so much of foreplay that the actors will simply go to sleep before the main play.

What was I saying? yeah, about Shree's traits. Let us continue with the caller and Shree's conversation.

Caller: Why are you breathing this hard Shree?

Shree: Rajesh has taken a day off today.

Heavy breathing - 10 AM in the morning - kids off to school - husband taking a day off. Do the math.

For the love of God, I was couple of feet away and was shell shocked. What would the caller think of? It is quite natural for anybody to let their imagination run wild. I know the caller is a major contributor to the Facebook, and I could see the joke running all over the globe, even to the extent of getting translated to the masai people in the African Savannah.

Caller: (Showing class) Is he also at the veggelution?

The caller still must have wondered about the heavy breathing part. Must be heavy lifting of some kind going on, the caller might have thought. Luckily, the call ended quickly and we continued on the hike.

It was supposed to be a relaxed, 9 mile, uphill hiking on a hot day. I know how much time, effort and desperation I had put in to make this happen. Being a runner who does everything solo, I took a lot of precautions, but forgot some simple, simple things, such as, taking some kind of solid food (energy bars, trail mix), sun screen, sun glasses and obviously water!

If we had passed out over there, probably somebody would have made "Marocharitra II". Nothing like that happened, and we were able to complete the hike in 4 hours.

Four hours of solitude...with my wife! I screamed, "I passed...I passed, the test!" Still not good enough when some of my good friends could do 8 hours or more.

The lunch around 3 PM, at Subway (they have avocados too) was awesome! With tiring legs, and burnt out skin, we looked at the watch and said, "Rush! it's pick up time!"

Despite all of the miscues, it was nice, to be honest.

So today, no cakes, no gifts, nothing...just this note.

Many, many happy returns, Shree.

Our little Oedipus

In my deep slumber, I felt a sense of movement next to me. I knew, I was in the NREM sleep mode, because, I could sense that my eyes were not moving inside my eyelids. For any woman who has gone through 2 pregnancies, having a peaceful time for herself is only at the sleep time. I was getting disturbed.

A bit annoyed, I raised my head slightly from the pillow, and asked, "Pal, are you Ok? Why are you getting restless in sleep? Leg pain?" It was to my husband, the guy who was crouching, tumbling, stretching by annoying me.

"Mmm...nothing. " That was his brief mumbling reply.

"What?" I raised my voice not clear of what he said.

"Nothing..."

If it was nothing, then what is the point in waking me up too. This is not first time, not the second time, but this has been happening for quite some time. Almost every night, for the last couple of months, him, despite being an athlete who takes care of himself very well by having regular fitness regimen and good eating habits, has not been sleeping well.

Out of concern, I had asked him to check with a doctor sometime before. He never followed up on that. His reply was, "These doctors would do a brain scan for nothing. I don't want to be a guinea pig for their fancy theories." Men, and their stupid ego.

I had asked him to try yoga too. "My long distance running is my meditation, my yoga. You can't top that," was his answer.

I know, next year he is turning 40. Thought, it could be the reason. I have read, for men 40 is the age that brings excess of fear of everything - right from their fear of "performance" degradation (what? from 5 to 4 minutes?), to the morbid fear of their significant other leaving them. Oftentimes I have noticed him feeling uncomfortable when I am around college going boys. Honestly, I feel good, trust me. I have even teased him about "Rocky the rock climbing dude", and his strong "pumps", and "Sam the surfer dude", and his 6 packs.

Stop it, woman! Stop it! Don't get carried away. Sorry, let us focus on my husband for now.

Kids growing up, thinking about college, still worried about the next month's paycheck to pay the home mortgage, adds up too.

If he does not tell me what is bothering him, I cannot help him. The truth is, if I don't have a good night sleep, then my morning schedule of waking up early and getting the breakfast and lunch prepared for the kids, in addition to having my own personal time to do cross-words would all get spoiled.

"Do you know what time it is?" He was busy searching for the cell phone we keep on the window above the bed's head stand. It was on my right, and so he was trying to reach it without realizing that his knees were pressing hard on my tummy, putting more pressure on my otherwise peaceful bladder to force me go to the bathroom.

"Could you stop it? Why do you want to know the time now? It is not even 2AM. God's sake, get a tranquilizer to knock yourself down." The AK-47 in me just opened with a barrage of bullets.

Silence. He laid on his back, knees crossed as if he was in "ready to sit" posture, eyes staring at the ceiling. A sense of guilt, typically unusual for a woman of my age, occurred in me. Something was really bothering him, but he was not telling me. Anyway, within minutes I was back to my NREM sleep.

"Mom..Mom..." I heard a kid's call from the room across ours. I knew, it was our younger son who is just months shy of his terrible two. I didn't have to check the time. It must be 3 AM.

This wake up call started a few months back, and from the initial days of "you go first," and "I will go next time," bartering talks with my husband, it has come to "honey, hop on over here."

Within moments, I heard the noise as if an army of little soldiers is marching in to our room. He came, he saw and jumped right in between us. As in any military expedition, similar to the occupying forces, our little one created space by simply kicking his father out further to the left. He made sure that his treasure, that is me, is far away from the innocent man who seemed to have possession of me, until a few moments back.

In our queen size bed, having a little intruder in between, who was so determined to make more space for himself, left my husband no choice but to leave his "queen" to the conqueror.

To lay his claim, our son grabbed my hair and got cozy with me. I have been conquered. My poor husband could do nothing but to stake out in the couch. There had been times, attempts were made by "man" to quell the conqueror, but the "war cries" left him cower in fear.

Like the defeated army, all my husband could do was to mumble in protest, saying, "You, little Oedipus brat! Never drive your dad away to get to your mom!"

I couldn't feel sorry for my husband's restlessness anymore. I have my next phase of the REM sleep to worry about.

And he made it! Yes, 40 it is!

Ladies and Gentlemen, and all the other creatures - living or dead - movable or immovable, of this wonderful planet earth, our man, Rajkishore Govindu took his foot steps in to the new era of his age in the early hours of April 1st, 2010.

He turned 40, amidst a small group of friends, who braved the cold rainy night to drive to his place. Obviously, the love of his life, the shining light of happiness that makes him have a peaceful sleep every day - the finest bottle of wine - was also there to share the momentous occasion of his life. Dear goodness, how could I miss out his dear wife in planning this pleasure ride?

More than us surprising him, we were surprised that he was fresh, and busy at 12AM, looking at the flight schedules for the upcoming Las Vegas trip. As planned when we knocked on the door, his lovely wife was waiting for us - may be anxiously - perhaps, to get the celebration done with, so that she could get to celebrate his special birthday later! Perhaps, their private celebration was already over by the time we reached there, more to add suspicion to his fresh and brisk outlook at that wee hour.

We wanted to get him all the gifts that would be needed for his age: rogaine, false teeth, walking stick, probably Preparation-H and the most importantly, a magnifying glass. Rationality in us told that we don't have to rush for them, as anyway we could gift them as and when it is needed by him.

All we got for him was a cake, thanks to the selection from a specialty bakery in Santana Row, and a greeting card. More than him we all had a lion's share of it.

I can't stop myself from thanking me, for safely transporting the 3 different individuals - who have much greater commitment to their families - from their homes and back. Trust me, the cake gave me such a sugar boost that I slept only on and off on the way back driving!

In the forthcoming days, probably in months, it would be nicer to see what kind of transformation a man goes through in his 40s. I am not far enough, and so I am looking for a beacon of hope, a light, that would help me walk the same path in the near future.

Many, many happy returns, young man!

Negative Split

"Negative Split" is a term frequently used by the long distance runners, when they cover the second half of the run faster than the first half. It is a big confidence factor for all the runners, and they all love to do that. My objective here is to talk about the aspects of the other "split" - the one that breaks marriages. Sometimes just like the "negative split" for the runners, it could be beneficial too.

We are all simple human beings. Some of us just see the near future, some are blessed to have the ability of seeing beyond, but the rest - the ones like me - simply live the moment. In our small and happy circle, we do tend to take things for granted.

I see some friends of my son's seeing their parents getting split. Some have reconciled and got back, but most of them simply moved on. Everyday while dropping him at school, I happen to meet one of those parents, talk to them about kids, life and so on. Once in a while - not too often - I get the message "we are moving our own ways now," from them. They don't have to tell me that personal information. I am just another person whom they meet for 5 minutes every day. I guess, being in a society that has become more open we tend to open up to everybody. Hard to deny, hearing them always gives a sense of sadness in me. I imagine telling myself, "gosh! not them."

It is always interesting to get a woman's perspective, and so I often bring it up to see what my wife has to say. Her first reaction would always be, "You don't know what happened. Do not speculate. She is a good acquaintance, and so he is. Enjoy your 5 minutes of talk and just drop it there. Their child is our son's friend. That is all."

Interestingly, I am not that straightforward. I do tend to get disturbed heavily and try to reason out.

Me, being a mature adult who thinks he can understand the dynamics of the human nature, believe in the ideology that no matter what, every human being has the fundamental right to live a happy life. Still, don't know why do I get disturbed, that too for someone who is most of the times a simple acquaintance?

Oftentimes, I see a big sense of conflict in me: I am fine with non-Indians getting split, getting remarried, moving on, etc., But I find hard to have the same parallels drawn on Indians. After all, we all are human beings, aren't we? Aren't we all entitled to the same degree of happiness as other nationalities do? So, why is this mental dichotomy in me? Is it due to my cultural background? Is it due to my archaic notion of what a marriage should be? Is it because, I grew up in a society that put all the blame on women for marital problems?

Ironically, most of us - particularly me - still have the habit of mocking at celebrity marriages and their splits. I always say, "yeh! should have seen it coming." Shame on me, when the NBA player Lamar Odom married the reality TV start Kloe Kardashian last spring, I waged a bet with my office colleagues that the marriage won't last till the "All star" game (half way through the NBA season). Getting married to an active professional American athlete is a call for destruction. Everyone knows that. When they managed past the "All star" break, I bet again for the break by the "end of NBA season".

So, is it fun to see celebrities split and not the others? Guess, the proximity factor of knowing somebody close and personal has a much deeper impact. Nowadays, it is good that I have started feeling sorry for the celebrities too. My reasoning: What if one of my acquaintances is a celebrity?

Having seen my relatives going through hell, just to play fair to the so called " institution of marriage," now I realize that was all a crap. While growing up, I have seen husbands being abusive to the extent that the food had to be served at a particular temperature, the vegetables had to cooked with a certain degree of crispiness etc., Food plates used to get thrown in the face of their wives for not meeting their taste standards! Pathetic to witness those. The only support the wife ever had was a murmur that she simply had to adjust for her man's needs. Bullshit!

Had these women of those days had power, financial independence and acceptance as it exists now, they would have simply walked out of their marriage. Sometimes just out of curiosity, I have asked my mom the same question. Would she have walked out on my dad, had she had the choice? Never got a clear answer though.

I am not feminist. Don't mistake me. I might be the number one male chauvinist you could every see. But, the facts are the facts. No denials on that.

I remember talking to a school teacher from my neighborhood once. She said, "the saddest days are the first days at school after the summer break. It is more disturbing to see two different addresses for the kids. Man, it kills!"

I have always been curious about how a child of my son's age interprets things. Sometimes he is simply fascinated that some of his friends live in two homes: dad's and mom's. In addition, they get two sets of everything: bikes, toys, skateboards etc., Sometimes his friends having two sets of step-siblings to play with in their two different houses. My son is so naive, that he finds it more charming! Couple of times he has asked whether me and my wife could live in separate houses too!

This brings an interesting, but a logical question.

Are there any married couples at all who are immune from getting split? The rational mind in me says no. I know for sure that me and my wife, no matter how much of understanding, love, respect, and tolerance we have for each other over these years, we are vulnerable too. No shame in me saying that. It is just a practical statement.

Seeing our son's friends' parents, the "what if" factor occurs to me too. The first reaction to the very thought was always scary. It's natural to shut out saying, no never, not for me. Should never let that happen is always the reaction. Over the time, interestingly, after seeing many cases, I do have open discussions on this "what if" matter with my wonderful wife. If the "what if" becomes a reality, how should as couples we handle that? Trust me, having discussions like this takes the scary part slowly away and turns in to thinking of much more meaningful practical solutions. Does it mean that I am suggesting this topic to be brought up just for the sake of having a discussion? No, definitely not. But I find there is nothing wrong either.

To me, the "what if" could be defined in many ways: "what if" one of us die suddenly? What kind of emotions would you go through then? If it is better to be mentally prepared to handle the death part, then the other "what if" in my opinion is no different from that.

Talking openly about what we might do if one of us dies, or if we simply split up, has honestly given me a new perspective of how I see my marriage: happiness is the essence of all and, we should strive to maintain it without going insane. If we start viewing the marriage from that perspective, the word of split does not scare us at all.

After all, having open talks about split in marriage need not be negative. Just like the "negative split" for the runners, it could be beneficial to strengthen it more.

Melody notes from my trumpet

[Written on November 3, 2009]

Last Sunday, I ran my yet another annual 26 miler marathon. I just can't imagine that it's been 8 years since I started doing this. My initial goal of doing 10 years in a row seems like a possibility now. Probably, if I do 2 runs next year, I can have my run number 10 next year itself.

In the early years - that seems long, long ago - running in the wee hours of the morning in the dark trails was an experience of its own. A long twig moving in the wind would seem like a snake lying around. But over the years, running on the trails repeatedly has given me a lot of other advantages too. First, is the kind of runner friends - I call, my running mates - I have gained over these years. They may not get me a V.P job, they may not get me an "angel" to fund, but most are good enough to help me finding a good store for my running shoes!

[P.S: This paragraph is written only on getting the approval from my wife.]

It's interesting, how my eyes have got trained to run in the darkness, that by looking at the silhoutte I could now sense from a quarter mile away, whether it is Sarah the soccer mom, or Hillary the hot mom. What? How about detecting men? Do I care?

In the April of 2008, I had an opportunity to run a 200 mile relay - a 12 member team, roughly 17 miles per member - from Napa to Santa Cruz. It was a 35 hour run starting off on a Saturday afternoon, continuing non stop for 35 hours and ending the following evening in the beaches of Santa Cruz. The experience was simply one of a kind. There were roughly 200 teams racing the whole course on a night that had a 40 degree weather with a pretty bad wind chill. One of my segments was a run from GG bridge to the zoo in SFO, along the pacific highway at 2AM in the morning. In the calmest hours of the day, listening to the footsteps of the 200 runners backed by the sound of the Pacific waves was something only a "youtube" video could explain. Mmm..what to say, I do have dreams of running this relay with my buddies one day. We have a couple of runners for now. We just need a few more!

Every year, I start the Spring with a hoping of doing better in that year's run, but it's so far being always on the negative side. For now, let's put the blame on the family. No matter how bad my training is, every year, even now, I always feel something emotional at the start. Sounds very funny? Wait, but 5 minutes later it is just usual (boring?) business.

For the first year back in 2002, I had my running shirt signed by a lot of friends from work. I still have that shirt and more to that, some of the writings are still readable. What does it say? Lack of washing in the years followed? No, it's simply the greatness of the "Sharpie" pens. I remember, all the Sagaa guys later showing up at our home to congratulate me.Fond memories!

One of my buddies that time wrote the lines from Robert Frost's famous poem, "Stoppying by woods on a snowy evening". Even though the lines written in the shirt have faded, those lines would never fade from my memory.



Here are the last few lines of that poem:


"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep."


A life to celebrate

[Written on May 24, 2007]

When I heard about the passing away of our maternal grand father, my first reaction was: "His time has come. He has lived a good, long life. Ninety years is a good age to have seen all the good and bad." But, I couldn't stop just at that. I just couldn't stop thinking about the time - the quality time - I had spent with him as an infant, as a toddler and as a grown up. There were times I would pee in my pants hearing the very voice of him. There were times I thought him as a great patriarch who put his priorities right.

Even under penury, he managed to educate his three daughters - when those were the times to get the girls married off once they reached the physical maturity. The number of trials and tribulations he had gone through to give a better life for his children – today, we the grand children are enjoying the fruits of his labor. He was a tough man, not only to others but to himself as well. His sense of discipline and honor, sense of justice, did make him a man to be feared of his times. He never appreciated his wonderful wife when she was alive, but ironically, the only time he ever shed a drop of tear in his life was when she passed away.

“Ayyar Sami is in the block. Hide the playing cards,” was the phrase I got used to while growing up in Madurai . He had the distinction of scaring the whole block with his mere presence. I, myself, was in those situations trying to hide the cards from him. Cigarette smoking: No. Alcohol: A Big No. Letting matured boys in the vicinity of the girls: A very BIG NO. When I was young, I thought he was one of the fun spoilers who threw the wrench at everything. But, later did I realize what could have been my life had he not instilled that loathe or disrespect in me for the bad things. He had a good sense of reasoning and he was always right.

Nay sayers might say, he never financially did well in his life. It’s true that he tried his chances in the field that might not have been the one that suited him the best. His ambition to run business on his own never resulted in a steady job. Here is my answer to them: living rich is different from living wealthy. The wealth of knowledge, the wisdom and the courage he showed when he was in dire straights – in my opinion - is richer than the millions of dollars. He tried all his hands, but never forgetting that his children and his family were his primary assets.

Being the first grand child gave me a lot of privilege – the privilege to see the grand parents in their prime. I still remember the days he used to take me, almost everyday in my infant days to the Meenakshi temple in the mornings where I had my own, private elephant statue at the south side entrance to sit on.

During my school days, he had the patience and the commitment to reply every letter I wrote to him. Tamil or English, he would patiently read through, correct the mistakes in red and send them back detailing the mistakes. There were times I had received the reply in nothing but read. He would always follow up with a good word of encouragement. That gave me the spirit to write more hoping to get a reply from him with no red marks at all. I think, I did manage to accomplish that once in a while. He had always wanted his grand children to show some interest, if not proficiency, in appreciating the Sanskrit language and the great scriptures. I remember the days where I used to hide away from his sight to avoid going with him to the Sahasranama recitals at SathSangam in Madurai . Thanks to the seed he had sown in me, I am still in touch with my roots.

I still remember the evenings he bought snacks (always poori) from his work. I used to make a visit just to have the snack. Fun days!

I spent a good deal of days looking for a job after I completed my collegiate education. I was desperate, discouraged and was having doubts on myself. At that time, every step of mine – no matter taking on higher studies or looking for jobs, it always ended with frustration on my part. Fortunately for me, he was with me at Bangalore . Day in and out, he quoted GITA consoling me that what I was going through was just a test to my strength and it was minuscule when compared to what he went through when he was growing up. He was there for me every moment! Thanks to his blessings and all the lucky heavens, now I have a good job and a good life. But, I will never forget those 6 months I spent with him.

For my wedding, he initially thought of not attending it citing health reasons. My wedding, as you all know was in Chennai and he was in Bangalore at that time. I just wrote him a letter stating how important it was for me to make the next step in my life in his presence. He not only attended the wedding, but he made me more joyous by saying that my letter made him change his decision. A few months back, in the December of 2006, when I met him he not only recognized me but to my surprise showed the hard copy of that letter I had sent him 8 years back! Now, I gloat myself: If could move this tough soul with one single letter – which was inspired by the encouragement he had instilled in me - I could to a lot better things to this world with my writings.

Never was a day I saw him go to the doctor, or complain about health. His diet, his physical routine – was way advanced to the people of his time. He always stayed active, right from working hard on overseeing the construction of our Ram Nagar house to dropping Ramji to the school everyday in his bike. Seeing how active he used to be, I thank God for making him not conscious about himself in his final days, when the aging process had taken a huge tool on his body. Otherwise, he would have been crushed to see his final days go the way he never wanted it to be.

In the winter of 2001, when I was visiting India he was diagnosed with a small problem which they suspected could be serious. Luckily, it just turned out to be something to do with the digestion. But, before they ruled it out, I just being selfish, prayed for one thing: “God, give my first child the blessings of this wonderful man. Don’t take him away soon.”

He lived for six more years, blessing 3 great grand kids during that time.

He wanted not only his children, but his whole lineage to cherish our ancestry, be respectful to our culture and be truthful to the GITA. Never a time he forgot to quote from GITA about the good and the bad, how to become nonchalant towards life and at the same time being passionate about who you are and, who you want to be. For everything, he derived his strength and knowledge from the Bhagavatham and the GITA. Over the years, towards his end, he was weak only physically; nothing could ever destroy the very spirit he had.

Having known him for my entire life, it's hard not to quote the GITA to glorify Him.

Gita: Chapter II (Sankhayoga) - Verse 27

For in that case the death of him who is born is certain; and the rebirth of him who is dead is inevitable. It does not, therefore, behove you to grieve over an inevitable event.

Gita: Chapter II (Sankhayoga) - Verse 28

Arjuna, all beings were unmanifest before they were born, and will become unmanifest again when they are dead; they are manifest only in the intermediate stage. What occasion, then, for lamentation?

Gita: Chapter II (Sankhayoga) - Verse 30

Arjuna, this soul residing in the bodies of all can never be slain; therefore, it does not behove you to grieve for any being.

Well, I remember the line from the movie Anand where the character of Rajesh Khanna says, "Babu Moshai, zindagi Badi Hone chahiye, Lambi nahin".

Contrastingly, he not only lived a long life, but a big one too. Like what he wanted me to be, I will neither lament nor grieve, but I would rather feel happy for him for being a part of 35 years of my life.

If I had made you shed a single drop of tear on reading this eulogy, I know had made Him more proud.

Those wonderful 11 years...

[Written on December 10, 2006]

It's 4:30 am. Just another cold and dark December morning that is waking up slowly knowing that the Sun would not be coming out any time soon. I am up in these early hours wondering what is making me sit in front of the computer and scribble some crazy thoughts of mine. Is it just the day of jet lag after coming back from my current visit to the wonderful India or is it something beyond that? Jet lag, in my opinion is a physical thing and I know for sure that it is not strong enough to force a guy like me to act emotional. This scribbling of thoughts seems to me more like a flow of my emotions rather than anything otherwise and I know the reason: my dear old friend, my wonderful buddy of 11 years, Mohan and his family are moving far off the physical proximity I have been enjoying this long.

"Rajesh and Shree, We are relocating to North Carolina. We are flying out on 18th." The message on our home phone left by Mohan came as a pleasant shock. Just minutes in to coming back to our home, hearing this very first message put us in a "don't care mode"about the rest of the voice messages.

"Oh! man.. this day, the day I've been dreading has come", was my first response. I ask myself,"How many times have I met him, or rather talked to him in these last few years when he was geographically closer?"Very few, especially after we both had our own family of ours. So how different this move is going to be? We could still meet once in a while and could talk anytime.

No, it's not that simple. The very thought that, from now on I won't have the luxury of meeting him personally, whenever I needed to... is no more. This is something compared to being just in contact with a family person, to being upclose and personal. Being upclose and personal has a special meaning. That won't be there for me anymore.

From the day in November,1995 when I met him the first, till now, I have had the previlege of experiencing my life's momentous moments with him. In the three years we both were under the same roof, I wonder how many times we had any arguments, major disagreements or even wanted to kill each other: none. Roller blading days in the summer of 97 and 98..mm..active moments. I still joke to him that had we been single now, we would still be room mates.

June of 2001, when Mohan the then last standing single guy became a married man I remember writing a happynote about his wedding announcement titled, "Casa Amigos bids Adieu".

How could we forget the Thanksgiving vacation that year, when param, me and him had a horrible experience of a cold night in a canvas tent cabin at Yosemite. For the whole night, when our spouses were comfortably staying in a well furnished, heated log wood cabin, we three were shivering in that 4 degree cold weather worrying how long the night was going to be. Adding more adventure to the trip was the drive from Yosemite to Tahoe the very next evening when we hit a buck (deer), which was then followed by a drive through the snow storm. It was Mohan and Sujatha's first vacation trip after their marriage and I know for sure that it might stand as one of the most unforgettable, happy moments in their marriage.

May of 2002, when I told him about our purchase of the house we currently live in, the happiness he expressed was something simple words cannot describe it.

Over the years, I realize that he had become of hub of acquaintances. But for Ana (Raju), everybody else I have been friends with in the "Sagaa" ring have been introduced only through Mohan. Had it not through him, would I have known Param, or JP, or Jai, or Kanaks? (to mention a few). Want to get the contact of somebody who lives in the remoteness of Colarado? AskMohan. Want to know the whereabouts of the guy who had a cup of tea with Mohan on one fine rainy day in Singapore a longtime back? He would definitely know about him now. No Blackberries, or Blueberries have the memory capacity to keep the long list of his contacts. He for sure, did not treat them as simple list of alphabets, but was one of them who cherished looking beyond those alphabets to keep in touch with the souls of that list.

There is a sense of guilt inside me that in the last few years I did not keep in touch with him as frequently as to the extent I could have been... I should have been. Work and family, the sterotypical excuses are there but a 10 minute phone call over a weekend would not have killed me. Now I realize the hard way that I can't take this for granted. Eleven years seems to have passed like a blimp in the radar.

I am sure that his wonderful family, no matter how geographically distant they are, would always have their special place in our hearts. This wonderful hub of friendship is just moving to the east coast to form an another hub.

Buddy, all the best with your endeavors and thanks for those wonderful 11 years...

And the MVP award goes to...

[Written on 2/8/2010]

Congratulations, Saints fans! Your team has achieved the miracle, and got your city to feel happy about something. For the Colts fans, haven't you had enough with just the lucky one against the worst Chicago Bears? Don't count on it anymore.

Anyway, it was a well deserved MVP recognition to Drew Brees, who came as a free agent to a hurricane ravaged city and mollified the agonies of the hurricane with his touch of breeze. Seeing him hold his baby boy and feel emotional - man, you've got the dads votes.

There is one more recognition that should have happened off the TV networks - off the commercial filled tubes - that did not happen. That was the "Most Versatile Planner" or rather "Most Vivacious Planner", or rather just the "Most Valuable Planner" recognition for me.

While Drew Brees was holding the Vince Lombardi trophy in an emotion choked moment, I was dreaming of a similar recognition at Sharma's place. But rather, I was getting harassed for being the "Most Villanous Person" and "Most Vicious Person" - a different kind of MVP that is unheard of . Want to know how it happened? Want to know the vagaries of friendship that turned a person of hope and charm - that is me - to persona non-grata?

Well, the long story short, on Friday night I had a call from my Sagaa friends, that one of them was going to have a men only, no kids, super bowl bash and "I had" to come. The tone was simple, straightforward and scary. I tried to counter the offer with a pledged loyalty to the one I had envisioned already. I was told: "Do you mean, you can top ours? No this or that. It has to be simply ours."

By Saturday morning, I was torn. Loyalty to the Pileon friends was one. Handling the threat is another one. What to do? In all those decision making moments I asked the person whom I usually resort later to pointing the blame:Shree. Her answer was simple: "dude, keep me out of it. I don't care even if the game goes beyond the 9th inning."

I looked up the skies for answer. The cloud formation seemed to tell me something. I knew what I had to. I would do one half with my Sagaa friends and the other at the promised land.

Around the half time, when people were busy dissecting the plays of the first half, I decided to sneak out and got caught. Saints were trailing and I thought, a change of place - me, going out - could turn the luck in their favor. I put a sentimental note to the rabid crowd, that had all but one poor guy rooting for the Saints. Knowing the sentimental trends of watching cricket since childhood, I thought I could sell this "well known taboo" like a used car salesman.

Well, I thought it would be easy. I could pull it off like a magician removing the table cloth without disturbing the filled glasses above it. I was wrong. I underestimated the power of my brethren. I was getting forced to shun my loyalty to Pileon; I was getting subdued.

Inside I felt, I had to decide between the "nagging" wife (Pileon) - whom I meet and socialize with, very frequently, and the wonderful long last(ing?) love - that is, my Sagaa friends - who always bring the best memories (just short of, where some beauty could knot the stem of the cherry with a glare before dropping it in to a glass of martini) in me. With just a week away from Valentine's, I could sense my vulnerability.

The junta was deciding on the fate of my release; by that the half time got over. I got restless. I knew it was a 15 minute drive from the Gomes/Driscoll area to the promised land. That was when the incredible play happened. The on-side kick, that got the whole world of Saints to its feet. The shock was awesome.

It was in those moments, the rich old sentiments of watching cricket hits every Indian. I told myself:"May be, it's a signal that I should stay to keep the sudden turn of events in blossoming in to something good."

I landed up watching the whole game at theirs. I danced with them; I screamed with them; It was Saints! Saints! Saints! from then on. I thought, my decision to stay was a pivotal point of the whole game. I was very excited.

After the game, I remembered my promise to Pileon and rushed over. I apologized (I had already rehearsed my act on the way) that could get me Oscars this year on a wild card performance entry. I just can't stop myself from gloating on that.

Anyway, with Gunna already gone the mood after the game as very somber. How couldn't it be? With Siri and Ram upset by the loss of their team, and Sharma secretly relishing the win of his team (he couldn't express it in front of Siri anyway), it was so gloomy. Wondering about the other personalities out there? Well, for now let's keep our focus on the principal football fans.

Ram was so upset that he didn't let me watch the post game news conference. Man, I wish Shanthi were there as a Saints fan.

Sensing the mood, I silently did what I went to do: finish off the wonderful food. I never had appetizers, pizza, puffs, juice and coffee in a single sitting. Wasn't that filling or what?

In my mind, I know I "shorted" the Pileon party. Though my guilt got blown over by the Saints victory, I wish I should have been there too.

By the way, the Pizzas were spicy and excellent like the game turned out to be.

Go Saints!

She spelled her way to the top!

[Written on 5/29/2009]

It was down to Ramya Auroprem, Aiswarya Pastapur, Kavya Shivshankar, Anamkia Veeramani, a boy of Chinese academics, Kenyi the son of the African immigrants, and Tim the lonely, all American white boy - the final 7 to get the crown of the Annual spelling competition last night.

Do you see the striking similarity? It's 6 out of 7 kids - yes, all first generation - with their hard accented parents watching them perform at the national stage in the land of oppurtunities, with gleaming pride in their face and tears of uncontrollable joy.

While the delayed broadcast (though mentioned as "live") was going on in ABC, I switched back and forth to the Fox channel - the last standing bastion of the American Pride - to see their reaction. They were just short of doing all dirty tricks to get the first-gens getting disqualified. Background records were unearthed to see any misspelling their parents did in their Visa or Green Card applications while coming to US. If an immigrant misspelled something in their application then it could be used as a challenge to disqualify their kids from competing in the spelling bee.

Karl, Rush, Cheney! help me out! Would you have done to protect our linguistic heritage? What? you guys don't know nothing.

Then it came down to the final three: Kavya, Aiswarya and Tim. America's hopes of restoring its pride rested heavily on Tim, when he was handling the assault by the immigrant challengers - or, in Rush's words - kids of the Slumdogs - with a sense of comfort and ease, hard to see in a 13 year old.

While the top 3 contenders were down to the final 25 word list, I could see the scenes from the movie "Akeela and the Bee", where the climax was getting down to the surival of the fittest. I thought, all the three would spell all the way to share the glory. But, Aiswarya missed out "Menhir" (trust me, it is lot easier to see the words in TV when those kids struggle to construct them from the etymology and sounds.). How could you not cry, when you are a parent - not necessarily hers - to see a girl's, what might have been a life long quest - go down in that 6 syllable word, after coming thus far.

It was Tim and Kavya. Would they spell all the words correctly to share the prize? Would Kavya and Tim replay the roles of Akeela Anderson and Dylan Chiu, understanding the pains of each other to get to that moment of
glory where in Captain Kirk's words, "few humans have gone before."

Seemed like the melodramatic moments of movies are not for real life. After all kids are kids. They want to compete hard. They want to win. Tim misspelled the word, that I don't even know how to write!

She was alone...all alone. One word correct and that's it. She would be the next champion. The word was "Laodicean". On hearing the word her face lit up like a stranded mariner seeing the land. She did the formal questioning: What is the origin? (In her mind, "I know it!") What is the usage? (In her mind, "Are you kidding?") What is the meaning? ("Joy of seeing my years of hard work come to fruition.")

She smiled...took a breath...and delivered... correctly.

I could sense a great sigh of relief from her parents seated behind: Thank goodness, no more spelling bee meets!!

Kayva wins after her fourth attempt - finishing 10th, 8th and 4th in the prior years. This is a young woman with a mission.

Hats off to you young lady! You have made yet another parent proud!

Teavana or Tijuana?

Lately, I have been seeing a lot of suggestions and opinions floating around for celebrating the 10th wedding anniversary. Some of them are very appealing, and some makes me wonder how they did it? In my perspective, it would have taken a village to plan and do some things - such as, taking a trip to Hawaii. Fascinating, but the baggage puts a huge wrench.

Anyway, being a person who simply stayed at home and enjoyed the home made "payasam" - made by my mom for my 10th wedding anniversary, here - I don't have much to say.

This year, I thought I should do something different that I have not done in the last 10 years. To start with, I thought of a very simple idea, say, buying a gift - if not for Shree - at least for myself.

I came up on a master plan. The gift should have the cover of being a thoughtful one that was bought for my wife, but in turn should be appealing more to me. If she says that she didn't like it, I should happily take it over and enjoy it. Honestly, had my anniversary been a month later, I too would have definitely gone for a Lexus instead. Better ideas were available by then.

Just a simple plan.

Having formulated such a plan, my first instinct was to randomly go to the nearest mall - Valley Fair, for me - just wander around and see anything that fits the budget - my budget - that could be bought as a gift.

The week after our anniversary, one fine Saturday afternoon when I was alone at home - thanks to the birthday parties - I went to the mall. Macy's? no. Nordstrom's? Definitely, no, no. It's got to be something unique, something charming.

That is where I hit a store called "Teavana", a tea store. The decor was intriguing, and the ambience was stunning. I simply fell for the women in crazy dyed hairdos who were pitching the sales.

The tea kettles were marked closer to 150$. I could very well see some potter making that for 2$ in some part of Asia. I felt very comfortable with the tea set we got as a gift for our wedding many years back. No, not the kettles this time. May be for our 20th anniversary.

I sampled some tea flavors and was simply taken by it. When asked about the price by pound, I dropped some pounds myself. It was 20$ for half-pounds for any tea, and most of the samples had two or three flavors blended together. That would mean, 40$ - 50$ a bag! This was too much for a guy who buys a box full of "dip-dip" tea bags for dime a dozen from Costco.

I had to make a decision. The oppurtunity of just being alone in a mall might not happen to me again. I should act quick. The price tag was higher, but what to say, I was simply smitten.

To come to a decision, in my heart I could hear me saying, "Help me! Ram! Help me! Ram!" Had people around me heard that time, they might have thought that I was praying "Ram" the lord, but I only knew that I was implicitly asking for opinion from my dear friend Ram the "brand" man, from Fremont! (He is so classy, that if his lovely wife must resort to using "branding iron", if at all, to "condition" him, he would prefer that should also be a "branded" one!)

I decided to go with 4 flavors - two in each bag - for a total of 70$. Instead of just going for a normal paper bag, I once again fell for a "eco senstive" special "Teavana tea container" that would also keep the tea fresh. Add 10$ more. Man, how could I say no to that sales girl's sparky greenish-blue eyes, looking right at me, and saying what I should get for my wife of 11 years.

While she was saying about the "anti-oxidants" justifying the price, coincidentally my lungs were needing more and more oxygen, and was gasping for more air to accept it. Scientifically, we hit it right on!

I bought 2 pounds worth of tea - 4 flavors - packaged in two special containers, all for a total price tag of 75$.

Came home, and wanted to surprise Shree who was still with the kids at a birthday party. She has never had somebody making tea that romantically. I wanted to be that guy... better be.

I looked for a vessel to boil the water, and that is when another reality hit me. Man, the kitchen needed to be cleaned, and the vessels were needed to be washed. First of all, I had to clean the tea pot that still had the left over tea dust from the day before. Talk about a romantic setting!

Still, I managed to do that in the next half hour and set the water to boil. I went with "Rubois Chai" flavor as it said in its label, "Brings the beauty of togetherness." If it worked as labelled, I worried about the logistics of how should I get the kids out to play? I didn't see any ingredient of type "Sildenafil Citrate" in the tea and so the timing window was a factor too.

I followed the instructions - to prepare tea - and wow! the flavor and aroma was simply fantastic! As expected, Shree did not like it! "Jack pot," I told myself. I had the whole pot of tea for myself.

The very next day, it just happened that my friend Ram (Fremont guy), came over and I gave him a small demo. I could see, the Teavana people thanking me for getting them a loyal customer. He liked it.

I have fallen head over heals to this flavor that now a days, during my late night peaceful time watching "Sex and the City" reruns, I have replaced the gulab jamoons with this wonderful flavor of tea. After all, they are good anti-oxidants you know.

A month later, I reminisce now: was planning a cruise to Tijuana, Mexico been better than getting bags of romantic tea from Teavana. I realized, no. Look at the price difference, and the longevity of the happiness. Instead of a short trip on the seas over the weekend, running behind the kids, I am enjoying reruns with a cup of tea every night, by myself. Hopefully, Shree will start liking the tea too, and the teas will last for a whole year.

To me, a simple bag from Teavana seemed to be a better choice than a vacation in Tijuana? What is yours?

Are you being pickled?

Recently, a good friend of ours - Ravi & Lakshmi - celebrated their 10 years of matrimony. Many of us, single, been married (beaten?), wished them many, many years of togetherness.

In response to our wishes, Lakshmi, who always seemed to have had a hidden talent for metaphors described the essence of marriage in a short poem. The poem is mentioned below.

Marriage is a jar of pickles with a variety of fruits,vegetables and spices
sweet as mango
sour as lime
Rough and bitter as gourd
spicy as mustard
hot as pepper
It does not taste yummy or last long until marinated in the sun, slow & steady.

Wow! marvelous! heard a lot about good marriages, but this metaphor...just made me think a lot.

She may have said the words of wisdom with a lot of memories to cherish, but what a disservice she has done - to me - alas!.

Before I run out of interjections in my language, let me interrupt and say a few things.

I am scared, a lot scared now. I have heard people gaining wisdom when they grow old. This much of wisdom - especially this "Pickle Theory" - makes me wonder!

Now from on, every time in solitude when I enjoy the curd rice with that spicy "Priya" pickle, made more flavorful by a can of coke and a bit of jamoon at 1 AM in the mornings, she has made me think about the marriage. "Priya" or "MTR" pickle - equated to many, many years of marriage. Man, my peace of mind - the one I have watching the reruns of "Sex and the City" in the wee hours is gone.

I completely like the last part of the quote though. "It does not taste yummy or last long until marinated in the sun, slow & steady."

Now, I realize why am I being asked to do the yard work in the hot sun. I was getting marinated in the sun, slow & steady. Remember this, my wife is always ahead of many of you in a lot of ways. Wow! now I realize one more thing: my wife Shree was actually helping me getting "marinated" more, when I do those long runs in the hot sun.

So, what is going to happen with the other Pileon husbands? Beebs will be forced to fly the planes with no top -like the ones resembling the B2 bombers of the WWII era (I hear Jer saying: "That might be the only way anybody would get sun on him.").

Poor Ram - he will (asked to) bike up and down, east to west, north to south, on all the possible trails known to mankind in the Fremont area - not to mention in the hot sun.

Imagine, how will the Pileon husbands look like in their 15th year and 20th year of their anniversaries: as dark as a coal, just the teeth being white (or may be yellow for coffee drinkers like me). May be the hair color would be compensating for the white in the color of their teeth (if at all they too remain).

Imagine the kids saying, "dad! please show your teeth. We can't see you in the dark."

Hallmark cards might start issuing wedding anniversary cards titled, "Are you pickled?"

I see a lot of good things to come in the years to come. For now, enjoy the Sun's tan.

A decade of nexus!

One more couple of Pileon, are marking their decade of marriage this month. This 23rd, our beloved BB (a.k.a Rajkishore) and Jer (a.k.a Rajeswari) are celebrating their 10 years of love and friendship.

Congratulations to both of you! Being the person who just has crossed this marriage milestone last year, I welcome you to our group.

Don't forget to carry the good qualities in you, the qualities you fell for each other, in to the next decade.

Remember, the next milestone is just another 10 years away!

Last week, me and Shree were going through some of the photos from the past, to see how her friendship with Gayatri (gaay) has grown over these years. We found some vintage snaps from their Ramco days, especially, the days when Rajkishore seemed to have been trying for Rajeswari's attention. The pictures might be 12 years old, but the characters are still livid. Seeing those photos, I could see how that flirts have transpired in to something this good.

The interesting aspect was, in almost all of the pictures Rajkishore and Rajeswari were in, Gayatri was also in. (Kaabab mein Haddi, then too?)

Did she play their tacit matchmaker? How interesting? They get to celebrate this wonderful moment here with Gayatri too.


What is with the stick? (A conversation)

Shree: Man, what are you doing? Holding a stick, and trying to beat up somebody?

Rajkishore: No.I am fishing.

Shree: (puzzled) uh? fishing? zameen mein?

Rajkishore: Have you read Mahabaratha? What did Arjuna do?

Shree: Beats me. What did he do? He shot arrows and then what?

Rajkishore: He shot a fish by looking at the reflection, wasn't he?

[The story is, in a competition at young age, Arjuna shot a fish shaped doll kept in the ceiling by looking at the reflection in a pond.]

Shree: Wow! Still this is sukha huva zameen yaar. Where is the water and where is the fish?

Rajkishore: I see water even in a desert. I make an oasis out of a mirage. I see my fish in the reflection of my mirage. Look behind.

(Shree looks behind.)


Shree: Where is the fi... Wooh! Wooh! Way to go to Arjuna.

Shree: By the way, what kind of "viyuh" (formation) are you going to have dear Arjuna, to win your fish?

Rajkishore: "Chakra Viyuh!" I will just go around and around her, until I get dizzy.

Rajkishore: Also, I am counting on the two big glass dudes: the one on the right in a "jin-chack" churidhar and the other guy on my left back to be my strategists. I know they are close to my "fish", and I have to go through them. Got it?

Narrator: And that was the start of a great friendship. Friendship for getting to his love. The foundations of the great Pileon.


Oh! my prince charming!

In that whole group of people, look where she is looking at. Just him! He is definitely desperate to get her attention and it seemed to be working.

See the camera is on the front and still she was distracted to her right. Was she making the "right" choice here?

The whole group is looking front at the camera. She is not. And he knows that!

Here also the woman in the "jin-chack" churidhar. She has been there all along.


An interesting, true story

I have an interesting story to share, a real one that gives a sense of what people in real appreciation of each other could do.

In my previous job, I had a colleague of mine who, in my opinion, was one of the most interesting characters (better than any of BB's friends), with an incredible sense of humor. "Twenty years of marriage man," he would always say. This gentleman grew up in Texas, but had a small stint in California for a while.

Last week he had his 25th wedding anniversary, thanks to the FaceBook update. I was invited, but couldn't make it as it was in Texas.

Here is the interesting part: He has 3 kids and their names invoke a sense of curiosity for anybody who hears them for the first time.

Jennifer Austin LASTNAME
Jason Dallas LASTNAME
Jessica Marriott LASTNAME

I am not kidding: The kids' middle name was chosen based on where he and his wife thought they were conceived. I once teased him, "Why Marriott? Was that the hotel?"

His reply was, "No, Volvo would not have sounded good. So, we decided to keep the hotel's name instead."

Thought it was a weird way to color the good aspects of their wonderful marriage,but I thought it was cool.


My thoughts

Ten years of love, ten years of friendship and more to that, his 40th birthday. All lining up at the same time. Marvelous!

It looks, to make this moment a special for him, for them, he has got a new Lexus - a premium one with all kinds of automated controls.

A Lexus, to make the decade of their nexus more special! Quite rhyming, quite romantic!

Hope you take some time to go for a ride - just the two of you - in that Lexus, most importantly not forgetting to take the two car seats out from the back.

The back is really spacious! The windows are tinted! And more to that, the middle name "Lexus" looks charming too.