1st February to 8th February
The full forum of regulars returned, and with Ravindra back from Pondicherry, the liveliness returned too. He shared cheerful stories from his trip and the delightful time spent with his niece, keeping the conversation animated and flowing.
We were also joined by Mr. Sam, a friendly gentleman in his late thirties, along with his young son Joshua. Their presence brought fresh energy into our otherwise predictable circle of retirees. It felt good to have younger voices mingle with our seasoned discussions.
But the real star of the evening was something else, pani puris, newly introduced at the shop.
Pani puri — those tiny, crisp, hollow puris filled with potatoes, chickpeas, spices, tangy tamarind chutney, and spicy mint water — is famous for its explosion of tastes and textures.
However, our chef seemed to have interpreted “spicy” rather literally. The teekha pani contained so many green chillies that even the bravest among us had tears streaming down our faces. It was less a snack and more a test of endurance!
Seeing the seniors struggle heroically, I informed Narayanan, the owner, that such fiery enthusiasm might not suit our age group. To his credit, he immediately retreated to his kitchen and returned with a milder, better-balanced version. That gesture was much appreciated.
To close the evening on a triumphant note, Ravindra proudly announced that he had purchased a bottle of Johnnie Walker whisky and a bottle of vodka from Pondicherry, claiming they cost barely 70% of Chennai prices — a small financial victory that clearly delighted him.
On a more serious note, as mentioned earlier, the biopsy sample from my wife’s left eye was tested and confirmed as Follicular Lymphoma. The coming days will therefore be busy with oncologist consultations and PET scans.
All in all, they were simple, ordinary evenings — tea, snacks, familiar faces, and the quiet joy of companionship.
8th February to 22nd February
The conversations during this period were less frequent for me, as I missed several evenings due to my wife’s ongoing medical appointments.
A couple of incidents within the campus, however, deserve mention.
An elderly gentleman, nearly 86 years old, passed away. His only son, who lives in America, did not come to India for the final rites. The ceremonies were conducted by the community maintenance team, as instructed by the son. At first glance, this felt strange. But as we discussed among ourselves, we also acknowledged that we do not know the circumstances that prevented him from coming. Therefore, no judgement.
It did, however, spark a meaningful reflection among us: perhaps we elders should not emotionally burden our children with expectations shaped by tradition. Times have changed, distances have widened, and responsibilities must be understood in context. Letting go gracefully may be a wisdom we need to cultivate.
In contrast, another senior gentleman and his wife donated ₹1 crore to the Army Welfare Fund last week. Such generosity is rare and admirable in today’s times. When I met him to convey my appreciation, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that he had made a similar donation last year as well.
Acts of detachment on one hand, acts of generosity on the other — life in our little senior community continues to present quiet lessons.
On that reflective note, I close this episode of the tea shop conversations.
