The Avocado Fiasco

For a retired person all days of the week are the same. The days unfold in a similar fashion. However Sundays are special. The entire family is also in a holiday mood. Every one joins in elevating the mood and exuding bonhomie. Normally it’s a day when you do what you enjoy, rather than do things which are on your ‘to do list’. It’s a day to relax, reflect and restore. 

I had finished reading the newspaper, done the crossword, had my bath and breakfast and had come to the conclusion that all was well with the world. When one is in such a euphoric mood, one is bound to spread the good mood, call up friends and enquire about their health, indulge in harmless banter and such things.

I had not, for a very long time spoken to my dear friend Fali Dubash, a very affable person. He had chosen to drop his anchor in Namma Bengaluru after his retirement from the navy. He built a lovely house on Hennur main road and along with his charming wife Olive, he tended to their garden in the bungalow. Together, they were the proud owners of three avocado trees. The trees were very productive and yielded a good number of fruits each year. Fali and Olive are a very generous couple and would share their produce with all their friends. I was also included in their benevolent list. We looked forward to the avocado season in end August and early September. It’s great fun ‘avocadoing’. I relish salads, avocado open sandwiches and guacamole. 

Somehow this year I did not receive any manna from Fali and was a little worried. Had he forgotten us, inadvertently removed us from the ‘Avocado List’, extended their stay in the US of A, I wondered. Normally I would have picked up the phone and spoken to him. However on this occasion I messaged him on WhatsApp

“Any Avocado

this year”

To my utter surprise and bewilderment, my phone started getting scores of messages. I had inadvertently sent the message to all the contacts on my phone. I was totally discomposed and confused. For a short while, I sat in my chair frozen, not knowing how to tackle this comical situation. It did not occur to me to press ‘delete for everyone’. Instead, I sent another message saying ‘message sent by mistake’. By then the damage had been done and I started receiving scores of humorous, apologetic, clarifying or enquiring replies. My Sunday turned out to be anything but calm and peaceful. Some of the interesting replies were-

*BTW I am sure you have tried avocado on toast or just avocado with a pinch of salt.

*No issue. But we did have a reasonably good crop of avocados this year.

The best was from my dear niece –

*Ha ha ha if you’re asking if I’m pregnant, then no! If you are asking if I know any dealers, then too no. But if you find any do let me know. (I later learnt that the avocado emoji also signifies pregnancy.)

* Good to hear from you, Pubby…even if you did not mean to say ‘hi’ to me. Whoever you have actually sent the message to …I too would like some avocado- being a diabetic. On compassionate grounds.

*If we had, we would have shared with you

* No avocados… only Golf.

*Yes Uncle, it’s on its way from Coorg. 

However the best was 

* Good evening, in a day or two I will have it sent. (Two days later I received a bag full of avocados from my dear friend)

*Notwithstanding the mistake, I love Avocados. Sadly you don’t get them much here.

*Hi Pubby – it’s all over for the year! Will send you some when the next crop matures.

*Is someone named Tejal selling Avocados? If so, I want some!!!

*So sorry Pubs, the last of the lot finished about a fortnight ago. Awfully sorry, we will make amends next season.   

*Finally I received a reply from Fali saying all our trees seem to be on strike! None of the avocado trees have any flowers and the nimboo trees are also observing ‘go slow’ tactics.

So there ended my Avocado story. I am very certain all my friends will remember me whenever they bite into an avocado.

Cheers until the next season.     

Flip Side of PK Gopalkrishna

Purshottam Kallupatti Gopalkrishna is a very adorable and at times an enigmatic character. Over a period of time, people around him who were unable to remember or pronounce his long name, had shortened it to ‘P K’. The name suited him. If I remember correctly my last encounter with PK was during the dreaded Covid days.

(https://wordpress.com/post/samundarbaba.travel.blog/4974)

In the meantime, both of PK’s sons decided to emigrate permanently to the US of A. PK and his good lady now spend considerable time with their children and grandchildren. This has resulted in less ‘India’ time and decreased our frequency of interaction, both at home and during evening walks. Whenever we meet, I find a slightly modified PK. He is now into following US politics and more comfortable talking about Trump and Harris. He has become slow with age, unhurried in his movements and sometimes exhibits a feeling of disappointment which is otherwise well disguised.

PK has never been the forthcoming type, volunteering unsolicited information. He is careful with his words and chooses his time and place to unburden. However, within a close knit group, he is very open and eager to share his thoughts. He once mentioned to me that sharing information is therapeutic.   

When probed further he came out with the truth. He did not like going to his children’s place for extended periods of time. In his own house in Bangalore, he was the undisputed king of his domain. Free as a bird, he ruled his province according to his whims and fancy. Bangalore boasted of an equitable climate throughout the year which enabled him to dress lightly and go on long walks   in the colony along with his cronies. He would spend a lot of his time sitting under the tree and engaging in harmless discussions with his mates. Being a foodie, he would often indulge in eating out in the many restaurants that had come up in his neighbourhood. These activities had given PK a sense of belongingness, familiarity and wellbeing. In particular, PK made it a ritual to join other tipplers at his club to quench his thirst on a weekly basis. All this was denied to him in the ‘Land of Opportunity’. A misnomer indeed.

From his deportment I concluded that good old PK was very eager to unburden himself with some more precious information. PK liked the idea of travelling, mingling with his military course mates, indulging in easy banter and reminiscence about the ‘good old days’. PK often said ‘travel broadens one’s horizon’. His military buddies were planning a Course Get Together (CGT) in the Orange County resort tucked away in the lush green hills in the Kodagu district of Karnataka.

With a certain amount of hesitancy, PK informed us that travelling posed a very big problem. He said there were two issues. The gist of it was that over the years, PK had been afflicted with ‘throat snoring’ – the loudest form of snoring that there is! This serious affliction was very irritating and disturbing to the LOH. Over the years they had reached a compromise and decided to sleep in separate bedrooms. This strategy had brought untold happiness into their household. However, when one travels, one is forced to stay in a hotel, which means sharing the room with the jack hammer. This one aspect of travel was unacceptable to the LOH in spite of being a good sport and an avid traveller.

Now to convince the LOH to undertake a holiday was a perilous task for PK.

Secondly, PK was jinxed when it came to holiday travel. This aspect also weighed very heavily on the LOH’s psyche. To fully comprehend PK’s plight it is important to become acquainted with some of his travel-related misadventures.

Many moons ago he and the LOH had travelled to Jakarta, Indonesia for a CGT. PK was eagerly looking forward to a ten-day holiday with his forty close childhood buddies. On arrival at the Jakarta Soekarno-Hatta International Airport, PK joined a long queue to complete his immigration formalities. There after he proceeded to the duty free shop enclosure to buy some ‘elixir’ for the trip. At the cash counter he was greeted by a vivacious young lady with an unusually pretty countenance. He was momentarily discomposed. Having completed his payment, the party travelled in a bus to their Hotel. On arrival, he went to complete the check-in formalities. The person at the desk asked PK for his passport. He frantically searched all his pockets and bags but could not find his passport. Panic was writ all over his face. The hotel staff were very helpful and assured PK that his document would be retrieved from the Duty Free shop and in the meantime he could move into his room. PK entered his room crestfallen along with a very embarrassed LOH.

They rested for a while and matters looked normal. At the appointed time, PK decided to join the others in the lobby for the first part of their trip. He tried to open the door from the inside but it would not. Both of them tried opening it several times in vain. Even repeatedly shouting ‘Open Sesame” did not yield any result. By then, the reception staff were making frantic calls to the room to enquire about the delay. The hotel engineering staff were summoned to resolve the issue as others in the pack waited in the lobby. On making no progress, the staff broke open the door and salvaged PK and the LOH. Red in the face, they reached the lobby to join the others for a ‘Jakarta by Night’ tour. All were accounted for and ready for the sightseeing tour.

Unknown to PK and the gang a catastrophic event had just struck Bali, Indonesia. The day was 27 November 2017. The volcano Mount Agung in Bali had erupted. As a precautionary measure, the government of Indonesia ordered all tourists to return to their countries post haste.

The tour manager collected the gang in one corner and spilled the bad news.

There ended PK’s Bali adventure.

Some years ago, PK and the LOH had gone to Goa to attend a similar CGT. This time around PK had decided to enjoy the outing to the hilt. Goa suited PK. It reflected his buoyant and bubbly temperament. He soon settled down to absorb the sun and sand along with some chilled beer. More than anything else PK adored sea food. Well, late into the afternoon, PK turned his attention to food and ordered Goa’s most popular fish ’Mackerel Recheado’ a spicy, tangy, shallow fried fish that is a traditional Goan dish. Having been deprived of this hot favourite of his for a very long time, PK started demolishing the fish and wolfed it down in record-breaking time. All of a sudden PK started to choke and started making strange sounds. Fortunately his close buddy Doresamy immediately realised PK was choking and went into action.

PK had to be taken to the nearest doctor to remove the fish bone from his throat. So ended PK’s tryst with Goa.

Not long ago PK and the LOH decided to visit their children in the US. Preparations were made in advance, many WhatsApp messages were exchanged and curry powder, masalas and papadams were purchased and packed. There was an air of celebratory anticipation in the house. The flight to Paris continued along the expected lines.PK had his dinner and went to sleep. In the second leg of their passage, breakfast was served which PK ate with total relish. Soon after PK felt uncomfortable and complained to the LOH about a nagging pain in the lower part of his chest. As the condition worsened, the LOH reported the matter to the airhostess who in turn informed the pilot. An announcement was made seeking help from any doctor on board. A paramedic volunteered to examine PK. Nothing conclusive emerged from the examination and the paramedic strongly recommended a medical intervention immediately on landing in Paris.

The French medical response was at its best. Within minutes of landing PK was evacuated and taken to the hospital. A series of tests were conducted and PK was cleared with a discharge slip declaring that it had been a ‘case of severe indigestion’.

The LOH ended up paying a huge sum towards the emergency medical expenses.

Now you may appreciate why PK is apprehensive about the forthcoming get together and their participation in it.