From the Window of Gelato

Copyright © 2014 by Jaideep Singh Chadha.

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4828-2007-2

                 Softcover        978-1-4828-2006-5

                 Ebook              978-1-4828-2005-8

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

About The Author

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I have to admit that this book had very humble beginnings. It was an idea floated by friends which quickly germinated and then blossomed into a flower. Suggestions came in droves as time cantered and now you have the final product in your hands.

The editing was done by my daughter, Mrs Guneet Kaur Bhatti. Thank you Guneet! All your suggestions were very apt and helpful and have been incorporated fully.

I am grateful to Sardar Harbans Singh Noor, the famous Sikh historian from Baltimore, USA, for reading every chapter as it was sent to him through the internet. His suggestions were valuable. Thank you, Veerji, for everything.

I am grateful for the friendship of Gullu Sundar Singh and his sister Priya Rajvansh. I am sorry that they departed so early in life. May their souls rest in peace! I shall always cherish my association with them. Thank you Ms.Ruby Bedi, where ever you are.

It is obvious that without Mr.Tejbans Singh Jauhar, Mr Vikramjit Singh, Ms Anne Cherian, Ms. Jaspreet Nijjer, Mr Vidhu Verma, Mrs Theresa Michaels, Mr. Ajit Singh Walia and Mr. Inderpreet Singh (I.P.), this book would have been a non starter. The photographs on the cover and back are by Mr. Tejbans Singh Jauhar. Many thanks to him. The picture on the back cover was taken on a day when I was in great pain because of a bad fall. It doesn’t show, does it? This proves how good a photographer he is! (or, is it due to my ability as an actor?). Thanks are also due to Mr Dharam Vir for designing the cover of the book.

My gratitude goes out to Mrs Navdeep kaur for her inputs. I am grateful to Mr. Tarun Thakur and Ms Tanuja Rana for their patient help because I got stuck repeatedly with my limited computer knowledge.

And then, last but not the least, there is Mrs Gurminder Kaur, my wife.

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE LATEST ADDITION IN OUR FAMILY,

SARDAR SABEER SINGH CHADHA, BORN ON THE 18th OF JULY 2013.

OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR:

THE OTHER SIDE OF GOLF

VINCULUM

MARRIAGE ROCKS

THE FUNNY SIDE OF GOLF

PLEASE MOM! IT’S MY LIFE!

WHY ARE WE STILL LIKE THIS ONLY?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jaideep Singh Chadha was born on the 11 Oct 1949, in Mumbai, India, into an Armed forces family. His early days and education were nomadic because of the regular transfers that his father, Late Iqbal Singh Chadha, had to go through.

He graduated from Indira Gandhi Medical College, Shimla in 1972. He then went on to do Post Graduation in Internal Medicine from the Post Graduate Institute of Medical Research and Education, Chandigarh in 1978.

His writing career began with the publication of his first novel VINCULUM in 1991, following which he has authored six other books. PLEASE MOM! IT’S MY LIFE has been translated into Spanish and Marathi, and is into its’ 8th revised edition.

He practices Medicine in Chandigarh. He is a keen golfer. He is also the Founding Member and Ex-President of Toastmasters Club International of Chandigarh.

He is married to Gurminder Kaur Chadha. They have two children, Mrs Guneet Kaur Bhatti and Captain Aman deep Singh Chadha (Merchant Navy). The two went on to contribute 4 children, Shiv Raj Singh, Kabir Singh, Mehar Kaur and Sabir Singh, into the family kitty.

He is a recipient of the Vijay Rattan Award.

PROLOGUE

Society is woven by strands of people who inhabit it, the culture of the region, the traditions formed over the years and by its politics. But all these would collectively fail to hold it together if there were no stories to bind them. It is these stories that have been passed over the years to generations which do that. Not all of them were products of human fantasy and imagination. Most of them were real; they actually happened. These were stories that people related down generations, sitting around a bonfire, sipping rum, toddy, or whatever else they liked to drink.

That is why I wrote these stories about real people, whom I met in the Gelato ice cream parlor of sector 8 in Chandigarh, considered an otherwise sleepy town of the North of India. These will no doubt be talked about as stories from Chandigarh. Maybe, some other writers will be provoked to write more stories of the region that they live in.

These stories originate from a coffee-cum Ice cream parlor, known as the Gelato Ice cream parlor. The value of the parlor is enhanced by the total absence of European styled boulevards in the city where one could enjoy the ample sunshine and whatever the establishments have to offer. It is run by Mrs Monica Sood, who also owns the neighboring bakery, Monica’s Puddings and Pies. The two establishments are separated by a passageway. One wall of the ice cream parlor which faces the passageway and the corridor is glass. It offers an excellent view to the happenings on the outside. It is a small booth with dimensions of 12 feet by 16 feet. The owner has placed three tables with three chairs each for those who would like to sit and have their ice creams, cup cakes or coffee. The tables have quaint lace table cloths and a small artificial potted plant in a small plastic pot. Come New Year and Christmas, paper cut outs of bells, bells made out of glass and plastic sprout like mushrooms only to disappear when the festival is over. The interior is very tastefully decorated with the ice cream and cake refrigerators hogging bulk of the area. A small kitchenette and a microwave are neatly hidden behind the serving counter.

We have a table almost dedicated to us. My friends are magnanimous enough to give me the seat which affords a clear view of the outside. From this vantage situation, I can observe the finer nuances of what is happening in the world.

There is a Peepal tree just outside the joint. For many years, it stood unsolicited, like an orphan no one really wanted. Recently, the administration has built a cemented sitting area around it. Hence the contact with civilization has gone up. When the weather is friendly, young couples, and groups of revelers bring their ice creams and other take-aways and sit around the tree. For many reasons, the Peepal tree has been granted a venerated status in Indian mythology. Thus the tree continues to stand there proudly, despite the muck it generates with its’ leaves scattering all over and the small fruit which falls on the hapless cars parked under it. One wonders if it is all bird droppings and not the trees’ squashed fruit?

I have been observing all, the thin and the obese who come for bakery products and ice cream. Eating, for the thin is just a need to be fulfilled, most of the times, whereas, just the thought of those goodies give the obese so much pleasure. That is why the expressions differ. The obese go about the business of getting out of their cars, walking slowly to the door of the bakery (they can’t walk faster in any case), fantasizing about what they are going to gobble and disappearing into the bakery, a very conscious act, their expression saying it all for anticipated ecstasy. No wonder the real fat ones never think about visiting the dietician. They go to the bakery instead.

The author can be reached at [email protected]

THE CAST:

S. P. S. OBEROI: A man of humble origins, he became a multi millionaire in a short span. He is one of the greatest Indian philanthropists known to me personally. He paid 1.2 million dollars as blood money for seventeen Punjabi youths sentenced to death in Dubai for the killing of one Pakistani in a brawl. This is only the tip of the iceberg that S. P. S. Oberoi has done. He continues to perform miracles.

SHAMSHER JANG SINGH PANWAR (SAM): He is a friend I picked up in the Chandigarh Golf Club. He is an extensively travelled, retired corporate honcho. He is as humorous as one can get (also, he has to be funny for he is a Sikh), drinks and eats everything that could come under the category of ‘edible’. He has his own story for me to relate.

GULLU: He was an art dealer and critic who lived in the suburbs of London. He was Sam’s friend from Bishop Cotton School in Shimla, a hill station located about three hours from Chandigarh. He had a huge house in Sector 5 which prompted him to visit India often. His claim to fame was that he was the brother of acclaimed actress Priya Rajvansh.

PRIYA RAJVANSH: A Shakespearean theatre artist, one of the most beautiful actresses ever to grace the Indian cinema. She was Gullu’s sister and became a great friend. It was a tragedy when she was murdered in Mumbai. Hers’ is the story I just had to narrate.

RUBY BEDI: A Canada based tantric and spiritualist. I met her through my dear friend Anita Bansal. She was involved with Priya Rajvansh in a very Bollywood—like story.

DARK SAD AND ANGRY SAD: Two young girls I met frequently in the coffee parlor.

THE COFFEE GANG

TEJ BANS JOHAR: An international professional photographer who has travelled extensively. A man possessing a wide spectrum of qualities and a collector of the fine things of life, including the finest alcohol collection which has to be replenished with startling regularity for he has a big heart. He is now into collecting and selling art. A friend, whose knowledge of worldly affairs comes in very handy. His collection also includes high ranking people from nearly all professions. He was instrumental in my meeting Mr S. P. S. Oberoi.

JAGTAR SINGH: My childhood friend. He is also Mr Dependable and a man with a heart of gold. How can destiny play cruel tricks on a man of his credentials, is a mystery to me!

VIKRAMJIT SINGH: A golfer who relocated from Mumbai to Chandigarh and now dabbles in supplying construction material to contractors. He is very heavy on the culinary scene and knows whatever is good in the vegetarian world and its’ availability. He is a walking encyclopedia rubbing shoulders with some of the polity and Page 3 people.

VIDHU VERMA: A 23 years old computer engineer, whom I befriended in the Toastmasters Club of Chandigarh, is also my biking partner. We have coffee only on Saturdays and Sundays, for some people also have to work for a living. He is a clone of the Indian cricket opener, Shikar Dhawan and like him, he too is obsessed with his moustache; and of course girls, which would be natural for a normal full bloodied male.

JASPREET NIJJER: Works with the TIMES OF INDIA as a Principal Correspondent. I came to know her when she wrote a piece on one of my books many years ago in her newspaper. She is very fond of coffee, pastries, cakes and loves visiting all the eateries in town, all the while desperately trying to lose weight. The gymnasium is her savior where she regularly works out.

ANNE CHERIAN : The much dimpled lady from the state of Kerala, which is called God’s own country because of its bounty. She also works for the TIMES OF INDIA covering schools. She is extremely fond of the Gelato coffee and like Jaspreet, loves to saver goodies in new restaurants of Chandigarh.

JASPREET SINGH PARMAR: An upcoming advocate by profession who is equally fond of coffee. A student of Y. P. S. School, Mohali, he comes with his friends from school some of whom are presently into real estate. We discussed his engagement and subsequent wedding with great anticipation. He is a fast learner and will soon learn the art of being married.

AJIT PAL SINGH WALIA: A young entrepreneur, who was into the book business. I first met him as a patient and then became friends when he started selling my books in schools. He also set up lectures in institutions for me. We made a good team. He would join us for coffee while he was hosting publishers in Chandigarh.

MRS THERESA MICHAELS : Has a Masters degree in Human Resources, she is a cherished friend and advisor. She is the mother of two lovely children, who take part in all activities that their mother is obsessed about. Theresa has since relocated to Mumbai where her activities continue.

CHAPTER 1

It is only in the hill regions would you find two hilly billys, just sitting on their haunches, smoking bidis and sipping hot tea, exchanging gossip and listening to Hindi songs on the transistor, as you pass by, only to find them in the same posture four hours later, as you return. The famous Tibetian Master, Sogyal Rinpoche calls this an Eastern style of ‘Active Laziness’. But in bigger cities, one can’t even dream of doing these acts of laziness. Imagine, a New Yorker in a relaxing mode of this kind. Impossible!

Tejbans Jauhar and I, are two 64 year old semi—retired people along with a few others, who can afford to spend quality time doing nothing special, sipping coffee in a coffee parlor in a city like Chandigarh. Not that we don’t have worries. We have plenty of those. But for those two hours, between 4 p.m. and 6 p.m., our life moves on a different gear. We just talk about things other than our worries. That is why we consider ourselves the chosen ones, a very rare breed, much to the consternation of passers-by, for one table is always taken. As the clock strikes 4, and more of our kind join in, there is no place left for run-of-the mill coffee drinkers. They would have easily understood, had I placed a placard WORK IN PROGRESS, for a book was under construction!

As I waited for Tejbans Jauhar (Teji) to arrive, I picked up the edition of Times Of India of that day and breezed through it. Suddenly, my eyes latched on to the news item which highlighted the pardon of 17 Punjabi youths by the Government of Dubai who had been sentenced to death by hanging. The newspaper informed me further that a Mr S.P.S.Oberoi had paid 1.2 million dollars in exchange for the lives of the 17 youths from Punjab, whom he did not know from Adam, Tom, Dick or Harry.

I was touched by Mr Oberoi’s humanitarian gesture. It was not just a philanthropic gesture. Philanthropy was something that you did out of the generosity of your heart and because you have the money to donate. Here, in the case of Mr Oberoi, it was not just the huge amount of money that he had put in, but also the relentless effort on his part to win a seemingly lost battle. In my book, this transcends philanthropy by a mile and a half.

As I pondered over the issue, Teji walked in. Baloo rang up to find out if I was having coffee. I replied in the affirmative and he too joined us after a short while. Mine wasn’t an invitation. The problem with this joint was that people saw us sitting inside and invited themselves in, as if they were walking into our drawing room or that we owned the joint. After having coffee they just thanked us and left, leaving us with the bill. When we started having coffee in Gelato, coffee cost 30 rupees. It was now 63 rupees!

So what is new? Baloo asked his usual question. There are people in this world who ask this question without even really wanting to know what is new. It is a matter of habit. But people like me start off narrating what should not be narrated just because someone has asked ‘so what else is new!’. That is as foolish a habit as any. I have another friend who asks me the same question a hundred times and I like a fool I tell him a thousand things which I think are new and which I think I should tell him since he has asked me to tell him about ‘what is new’. But now, having realized my flawed personality, instead of reeling off my usual habitual dialogues, I asked Baloo, So what is new with you?

Without batting an eye, he calmly told me, Oh! There a hundred things but they can be only told over a few drinks! That would be neatly tucked away between slip and third man if it was cricket!

It is the same old thing. Nothing new happened since we met last. I asked him again, What is new at your end? He deflected it again like a seasoned politician. I realized there is a certain amount of irritation in my voice.

What? No rumor? No gossip?

"Despite the fact that I am the president of the gossip club, I must tell