Tellatale: A fishing Day..

Tellatale: A fishing Day..: A fishing story..it was like hearing a bedtime story..narrated   while having spicy crispy fried mussels and king fish curry, the...

A fishing Day..

A fishing story..it was like hearing a bedtime story..narrated  while having spicy crispy fried mussels and king fish curry, the curry made him go back to his Mangalore  house, a sprawling haveli like mansion, teeming with cousins. Frank De Coelho,  a friend of ours had come home and while having lunch, the fish curry took him to his childhood home, and out came lovely memories.

A twilight beside the Chirakkal Chira with the Chirakkal RajaRaja

 From the Centenary Celebrations of Din Ul Islam..renewing ties of history

Singing a poem written by her husband, which she tuned herself

A cosy rainy morning..the skies are not pouring open, just slow consistent showers, the incessant pitter patter  makes you want to curl up with the works..a warm mug of chai, and a simple story book. If you have a window seat, to gaze  out on the rain washed leaves and bending boughs, you are blessed. What better day to visit Kolathiri raja, or Chirackal Raja, beside the wide Chirakkal Chira and hear stories of a lifetime. He is the current heir to the throne..a symbolic status, which ironically means nothing..and much too.  Descendants of the Ancient Mooshika kIngs, who ruled us for centuries and who brought about significant developments to North Kerala. We drove by the side of the historic Chirakkal chira.. a beautiful pond interspersed with lilies , the drizzle making it even more beautiful.  The muddy path was blissfully solitary….making the ambience serene. A fourteen acre, man made pond, which is a precious gift for mankind,  from the Chirakkal rulers , needs urgent clean up in order  to pass it on to the next generation.  The age old Shiva temple stood majestically facing this Chira, and on the opposite side of the pond, you can see two temples, The Devi temple and a temple dedicated to the Physician God , Dhanwanthari. The car slowed down when it reached the Folk Lore academy.. I saw a man coming towards the gate, waving to me, and  he was none other than The Chirakkal Raja. I would have found my way, and he needn’t have stood at the gate waiting for me..but that reflects his humility.

The morning sped past..minutes into hours..what I expected was a lazy chat,,but it was not at  all a lazy chat..not a chat even..they were lessons of life, pages of history and experiences and wisdom acquired through the ages . It was not a fairy tales or a fable..but  recordings of an era gone by.

Sri Raveenndra Varma was an eloquent speaker, his education reflects in his mannerisms and he willingly drove down memory lane for me and for the next few hours, time flowed  like a stream which flows in different speeds and frequencies, and meandered through variegated terrains, the twists and turns of life.

A powerful dynasty, Chirakkal Kolathiri, are descendants of the Mooshika dynasty, ..tracing  their ancestry to the first century A D, a history of great warriors and rulers ,one of the oldest aristocracies of India. In 1799, the kingdom was lost to Tipu sultan..and  royalty of Rs 1000/ was decided to be given to the rulers for their homeland, a sum not increased even after two hundred years. Time has turned it into a pittance now but which he receives even today, it is called Maalikaan. Cornwallis started the system when it was annexed to the Crown. I asked him about opulence of his family earlier…to which he replied, that their kingdom was lost two hundred years back, and so  Independence did not bring much changes to them.   They did not build opulent palaces, but the irony is, they built schools ..which has a good reputation even today. His ancestors were the richest landlords, and the lands were given to the tenants on lease, and the land tenacy act made them landless and the tenants owners. Is nt it sad? But a hard fact.He recalls that during the harvest season rooms and godowns were filled with grains..and after the tenancy act, they had literally starved.  The temples also were run with this money. 

Madayikkavu,a an age old temple dedicated to Madayikkavilamma, a powerful Goddess, and it is she who is the common link between many royal families of Kerala , as She is the Kula Devatha for these royal house holds.

 Sri Ravindra Varma was a man of multiple talents, graduated in arts, loved literature.. and, donned roles as diverse as chalk and cheese. An  M.A In History from Madras Christian college, Madras, he was tutored by the cream of educators, Anglo Indian teachers and  English teachers. Sri T.N Seshan the fiery  election commissioner  was his friend in College, and it continues to this day. After M.A,.he was doing research in” Crime and punishment of Madras”. Days when he was steeped in dusty crime files and sordid mysteries. Huge records of twisted and cruel minds, innocent lives, and tales of revenge.  One year into it, he received a telegram from his father stating that he had secured a job in Brennan College Tellicherry, as as a lecturer. He started immediately as per his fathers orders, only to find it was temporary post, for a year. Then he passed qualifying tests to Defence academy, Pune and secured a job there. Three years in Pune.. A covetous Central Govt job. But his father said he was feeling lonely here and what is life without twilights filled with prose and poetry? His father missed the poetry and story filled evenings and felt that the fabric of life was not measured with Govt Jobs, but gossamer threads of prose and poetry, the solace of comfort food churned out with love.. Came down, and he got a job as an accountant in Western India Plywoods, and  he retired as Chief accountant. He is also the recipient of Sangeetha Guru pooja Award from the Sangeetha Nataka Academy, in appreciation of his contribution to art.

Ravindra Varma receiving the Guru Puja Award

 I asked him about his life in Kannur. His wife, Shantha Kumari thamburatti  came in with steaming cups of tea, and biscuits and both of us dipped and dipped till the biscuits and tea disappeared. She hailed from the Beypore royal family and worked as a teacher In Chirakkal High School till retirement. She is musically talented, and sings beautifully. He had led a busy life, is a trustee of thirty eight temples. He still is a prominent person and a man of respect, an is invited to preside over many functions.  He had also used to lend his voice to dramas broadcasted in the radio. Varying decibels and emotions and characters came to life, and his voice resounded in thousands of houses through the radio.  He wrote..wrote verses and stories, translated the Bhaja Govindam the famous literary work of the great sage, Adi Shankaracharya  from Sanskrit to Malayalam, and published it himself, still available in Guruvayur bookstalls. .  Had written as much as 9 story ballets which due to his ignorance, had given away without taking copies for himself.. and it remains a nostalgic and painful  memory now.

Awards received over the years

The Chirakkal dynasty are the descenadants of The Mooshika dynasty who ruled Northern Kerala in Ad first century.  There  were 119 Kings in This dynasty. They ruled till Tipu usurped the throne but their presence in Indian History cannot be undermined. They were responsible for the beginning of trade, and commerce between the Arabs and The Portuguese.  And thus started the influx of the foreign powers in Kannur.  If they hadn’t welcomed the missionaries and given them land, Islam and Chritianity wouldn’t have entrenched  its roots here. And this unpretentious man in front of me, is a descendant of this illustrious clan. Till recently, the khaazi title of  a prominent mosque in Valapatnam was conferred by the Chirakkal Raja. Trade relations were given much importance and that’s how the Urbanisation of Kannur began, when he invited Vasco da Gama to Kannur.

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Srikantapuram was named after King Srikantan, and Valapattanam  was named after King Valabhan. 1799. kingdom was gone.

Every Kannurian must know the Arakkal Chirakkal story. Two princesses had gone to the stream to bathe, when the swirling currents pulled them down and one of the Princesses started to drown, and with the currents twirled her  clothing away. As luck would have it, the next few moments were a romantic slice of history. A handsome lad from The Arakkal family was passing by, and he immediately lent her his clothing and gave her his hand to pull her out. So as per wedding rituals..she had given him her hand and he had given her his clothing, and thereby they are man and wife. The wet princess stood at the entrance of the kovilakam  saying that she is already married and then the families met and the rest is history. I feel that the girl must have been smitten by the handsome lad.  The Chirakkal princess was given away in marriage  with pomp and all the formalities.  Half of the kingdom was given to her as dowry, and the Arakkal family was asked  to adorn her with  the title Arakkal Beevi which continues to this day. This must have happened around 800 years back.. all function are attended by both families to this day,.” this is religious  fraternity” he insists....a silver lamp which was given to Arakkal by them still burns there..the light of religious fraternity. A lesson for the so called secular India. Just one month back, he had been invited when the new Beevi took charge.

View from the Raja's house -
A 14 acre lilly pond 

The secular nature of the family can be seen if you see that they patronized the theyyams. Chirakkal family had patronized theyyams, though theyyams were the rituals  of the lower strata of castes. The royal families usually  patronize the refined arts such as Kathakali, krishnanaaam, koothus, etc. but theyyams were from Malabar and  they were performed bythe Malaya community, people who drank, smoked and ate non veg and most often illiterate. Theyyams, more than an art form has more religious significance, as The Gods are supposed to enter the bodies of the artists and prophecy and give guidance to the people, it is by learning and performing a certain set of mantras which are handed down verbally by the elders.  And nobody was there to patronize them. The artists were given  financial aid,  land, and conferred titles.  The title Peruvannan, and Panikker, were given from The Chirakkal Kovilakam . the honor of the  title ..for instance..it is like this..he has to pronounce Krishna Peruvannan..  Krishna Peruvannan ..Krishna Peruvannan and lo..the title is there to stay. Pattum valayum was given to these artists.. This bangle cannot be removed from anywhere except Raja Rajeshwara temple. 

Thirty five theyyams were made to perform In Chirakkal Kovilakam. And the royal members bowed their heads before these Gods .this reflects their humane ness, their large heartedness in those caste driven times.  He leads a calm and peaceful life without airs and graces with family and friends, overlooking the beautiful lilies  which spreads as far as eye can see.
A piece of good news before I sign off...look out for his book of poems which will be out shortly..

The absent minded Vasuettan, memoirs of my eighty year old mother

The scene is a bustling house in Mint Street, Madras, where my Grandfather lived.. he was working as Chief engineer, and the eldest in the family, so it was common practice, or the norm of the times, to take under his wing, the rest of the children in his family, who passed their matriculation, and family means, not the nuclear family of today..cousins, nephews, widows, widowers..newly married couples..and so on.

They learn to pitter patter in their strides towards building a new life or spend the fag years cosy and snug in the feeling that they are taken care of. So my mom and her siblings grew up just like wild wines, with no separate care, but she says it was good fun. She always bursts into peals of laughter when she narrates us their weekends with Vasuettan, (Ettan is a suffix used to address big brothers) a distant cousin, not so well off, but who was one whom his mother had sent here to eke out a living. Vasuettan did get a job, a not so good a job, but nevertheless a job, which was quiet a distance from Mint Street, he packs his food for the day and leaves at daybreak in his huge bicycle and comes weary and exhausted at sunset. But weekends, he is all set and ready for adventures. He loves to pile up all the four kids onto his bicycle and pedal off . My grandmom was not very enthusiastic about these outings, but she had no say as the kids were too fond of Vasuettan and his bicycle rides, and Vasuettan was too dear a soul to refuse permission.  Once they all tumbled down and returned bruised and battered, which did not deter them at all. Once, the bicycle got a flat tyre in front of the house of a  Malayali  who he had heard from my grand mom that they were  related,… distantly related and he immediately rang the bell and told the sophisticated hostess that these kids are related to her  in some way and would she please take care of them while he tend to his cycle. My grandmom was aghast when she heard this. Once they were off to a distant place where they needed to take a bus. He assisted  my grandmom in parceling  food and drink to ease hunger pangs. He was more excited than the kids it seems.  They all piled in to a bus, and when the bus left, my mom spotted her sister on the pavement aimlessly walking looking out for the rest of the gang. The bus was stopped immediately and they all piled out and took another bus together. Once he took them out for Navarathri festival and nearly lost her younger brother, who was left behind staring  wonderstruck at the toys in  a toy stall. Announcements were made and they all trooped towards the toy stall where my two yr old uncle  was given a drink by the stall owner and was comfortably seated on his lap. Vasuettan  bundled him up and  they  all trooped home and he was snug in his belief that this  would remain a well guarded secret. He loved buying them roadside sweet meats and once they were all down with diarrhea.

My grandma had gone to her hometown, Mahe and was returning by train..and she had written a card, those days card was the cheapest and effective means of commiunication, to pick her up at the bustling railway station. My timid grandmom got down at the station, and looked all over for Vasuettan, she had got Jackfruits, coconuts, and a whole lot of luggage and luckily, somebody helped her unload it  from the train..Vasuettan was  nowhere to be seen. Panic, but as luck would have it,  a carpenter who had worked there asked her if she needed help…he helped her catch  a taxi and she reached home to find Vasuettan sipping coffee with the card in his pocket.

He is the one my grandmom sends to the station, to pick up guests coming home. Once, she had asked Vasuettan to go and pick them up, and the hours flew by, and no signs of the guest and Vasuettan. And then she saw the rickshaw at the gate with an annoyed couple getting down, Vasuettan had forgotten about it  and had cycled away merrily to his work, but as usual was all apologetic when he found the harrowing situation my poor grandmom was placed, next day he took off and made it up, assisiting them and regaling them with his tales. He was so innocent and full of love, and it all stopped when my grandfather  died a sudden death at the age of forty two, and the family had to leave Madras.

Meet Namrata..and the slow loris

A wisp of a girl, deceptive..in the sense, that she camouflages her compassionate heart with  bubbly jumpy tomboyish mannerisms. A bit like ..ah Yes..Jim Carrey.  The first time I set eyes on her was  on the day we went to Flame University for my son’s admission to the liberal education and management course. We sat with her parents, with the same aspirations and hopes for our children.  From then I’ve been hearing about Namrata from my son Sanyanth.  How she used to be roped in for either teams, boys or girls, when one player was missing. How she loved dogs and how she made all the children smuggle food from the dining rooms to feed the strays

Entangled at Neeliyar kottam

A couple of hours which will forever be entwined in my memory..even as I write this, a thousand pinpricks wiggle on to my fingers, my eyes close..and I wait for it to diffuse.

three hours at Kannur station..

Oleena  and  Mark
Oleena and Mark were my home stay guests from Ukraine. So have come to the station to pick them up, only to find the train a good three hours late. They are here for a month to learn basic Ayurveda. never knew Kannur had such a reputed place  in the Ayurveda map...Suresh, my chauffeur, asked me to go back home and we would come later.. I was beginning to do just that when I thought..why go back? could buy a book and watch the trains go by and the sad farewells and happy welcomes,  and try reading a magazine in the hustle and bustle. book would be better..as you can sink into a book and magazines divert your attentions to varied subjects

Golu at Radhechi's

 

.When Radhechi saw the pic of me and mom at a friend's place, she called me and asked me to take mom there to see her Golu. In spite of the difficulty mom  has in climbing steps, we thought it would be worth the pain.

my tryst with the Seshans

I often wonder about the chains and links you gather through the course of your life..how you meet and  make friends and then meet their friends and their friends, and sometimes it turns miraculous.  Some write and share…and enriches many a loner’s life. Just try recalling the new faces you met last year…a blank screen in front of you...but if they had touched your heart..they will be here to stay..and rise like ripples on a stream..time and again.

This is such a rendezvous, one which lasted two days, and I

have never met them after..never tried to contact them, never gave them a visit. But they are my most treasured moments. Meeting  Dr T.N Seshan and his beloved wife who passed away a few days back.  Actress Sridevi’s death,  too was a jolt..Boney Kappor and Dr T.N Seshan..both lost their loves.  I am not measuring the depth of their sorrows..but they have to cope with the loss, learn to grope in the emotional darkness, sob into their pillows.

It was around 5 p.m, when Swami Sunil Das called and asked my wherabouts, I said  was just reaching Mysore..”Oh, You are lucky.. then I want you to bring Idlis, sambhar and Chutney by sharp 8 o” clock tomorrow morning for three ..Dr T.N seshan, his wife and myself.”.a bolt from the blue..a closed kitchen, in a house where I am an occasional visitor. They were coming for the house warming ceremony of the Mysore Ashram of Swami Sunil Das. Dr Seshan and his wife were ardent Sai Baba Devotees, and Sai Baba, knowing how lost The Seshans would feel after Baba’s Samadhi, had asked them to see swami Sunil Das, as Baba himself. No time to lose..lo..idli batters had flown off the shelves of the two super markets..thought I would have to resort to buying idlis. But as luck would have it, the small shop next door was not yet closed, and just two, yes..just two packets of idli batter was waiting just for me. These are times when I feel an ethereal force watching over me, and this time put those two packets of batter there in that tiny shop. So next morning was full of trepidation…me..who can never even dream of meeting such an iconic figure, was making idlis for him…made coconut chutney, nicely laced with coriander leaves and bird’s eye chillies, a hint of mint and lime and a nice garnish completed the exercise. Then came the tomato chutney..made sure that the  tomatoes were not over done that the red might turn to maroon.. and then made sesame chutney too..coconut,  ginger and curry leaves and fried red chillies ground together with spoonful of sesame seeds roasted till they splutter and then turn a wee bit brown. Checked the idlis..wow..soft enough..a big sigh of relief..packed them up, and we were off..

We reached there four minutes after eight in the morning. They were staying in the palace guest house, a mansion given to one of the princesses. We drove through the lengthy drive way, a majestic edifice in the heart of Mysore. We were taken aback when we found Dr T.N Seshan waiting for us, on the dining table..ready and waiting. Swami Sunil Das came in and after the preliminary greetings, I served them food.  His wife, an epitome of gentleness, simplicity and beauty ,draped in the typical tamilian maroon  Kanchipuram with a saffron border, the swirls of her saree snug on her delicate shoulders.  nose studs that matched the sparkle in her eyes, and a traditional maroon kumkum which merged effortlessly with her personality.  Both of them were bothered by physical ailments associated with age. I was surprised at the pure and raw Bhakthi, devotion to God, and their total samarpana, or submission to the Almighty. He had a full fledged temper, asking for his medicines, for this, for that, and for nothing, for which he was impatient..ha ha..his impatience , in no way perturbed her,  to  which she complied with utter perseverance and love.  At that moment, I wished  God would not take her away before him..but alas it was not to be. She told me her trysts with God, how miracles keep happening, how she teaches Narayaneeyam for poor children at her home free of cost.. how her Krishna idol weeps, the tears dribbling down from the eyes of the Lord. Yes..it is not surprising, as the kind of love and samarpana is rare..almost nil. I asked her why don’t you compile your experiences into a book? She told me ..”you come and stay with me AND I SHALL TELL YOU ALL..YOU WRITE”.. I wish I did . Swami Sunil Das joked that Dr Seshan can predict your future, he can read your stars, and give you his report..Oh..my ..am I hearing right? Seeing right?..he asked me my star, and time ..and asked me to come afterwards.  And predict he did… obstacles are many.. you have to be patient..wait and you will be rewarded and I shall come and stay with you.” Yes.. time ..who can predict when the time is right?

I know how great a loss, and how deep and vast a void , her passing away must have created..Grace of God is the only healer.and I pray that Sai Baba bestows peace and calm and the courage to cope..the days and nights have to tick away..minute by minute. Let those minutes without her be bearable with the Almighty’s ultimate grace.

  

Karthiedathy.. and my grand parents

Karthiedathy (in Black) with my mom.

Different phases of your life feature different characters. Some would have developed a sticky bond which though clings to you with brutal severity, loses its clinginess…time wipes away the glue with surprising ease and they don the garb of mere acquaintances or even strangers. Sometimes you would have been so dependent on them and they  would have eased a lot of creases on the tapestry that is life....BUT  you can’t obstruct the sweet gift of forgetfulness that time and circumstances  bestows on you. This is Karthiedathy..edathy is a term used in Kannur, for an elder sister. I met her when my father died. She had come to offer condolences. Had never met her before, she introduced herself to us, and said that fifty eight  years back, she was a daily visitor here..

a stroll in a cute neighbourhood in Paris

 quiet...absolute silence...a dog barks, mews of fluffy kittens, are all the sounds you hear...far from our cacophonic roads..wondered where all the people were..it seemed very lonely.no petty shops, no autos, for that matter I did not see a soul. Prabodh, my cousin had given us a
map, so that we don't lose our way.

flowers in all hues..trimmed hedges ..

to capture it quickly, lest the door open
 and me be charged for intrusion on their privacy

stone steps and stone benches to sit amidst the floral bounty

not a soul in sight...

A small school functions inside...

thiought it was an old couple staring at us..it was apicture..maybe of the couple staying there..wanted to knock..and have a chat with them..again..there I go..nosey me..

 school compound

inside the school...no sound at all..

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road side delights

An elderly couple fixing some thing..again..a hurried click..the wife was below, handing him whatever he needed..maybe he is an Uncle Podger of sorts..on these roads, you can dream..

garden with gnomes and toadstools, jugs and wooden benches

the railway station...you could meditate in perfect solitude .. and miss the train

the bus shelter...we had to walk to the shelter..and the drone of the bus could be heard from far..we were the only passengers..

Paris rendezvous

A year has gone by...and memories have dimmed..but had taken time off to write it down, then and there..

 Paris ......after an hour's delay we were on the flight....two good meals later in a span of eight hours we were in Paris. The customs did not treat us like terror suspects...we had felt humiliated in the States....had to strip our socks too.. ThE weather was cool and a bit cloudy... My younger cousin Prabodh had come to pick us. The car sped through and suddenly we passed through a Concorde...the plane which I had always wanted to see..Prabodh told me that it was the out of service Supersonic Concorde which once flew between Paris and New York in a little over three hours, at 1350 miles per hour..It looked as though it was about to soar..wow....what a sight..well maybe because I was always in awe of the Concorde

child hood memories when the Circus came to Qatar

This should look  like a class composition, where a visit to the Circus must have been written by every student in their English classes. Yesterday, had gone to the inaugural show of Jumbo Circus, which made me take a long look back.

Seventy years down memory lane..reminiscences of my mom

These are my mom’s reminiscences of her glittering childhood..a small slice of her life which she enjoyed..a time when she had no clue of the travails that lay ahead. Now  at seventy five..we hope,the turbulent years are behind her, and she has a little bit of time to herself to call her own..old age, and physical and emotional mishaps  have been her constant accompaniments, and though she walks with a walker, it  has not made her bitter..she sees the silver lining on every cloud, and keeps her mind agile. She is deeply spiritual, and swears by her readings of the scriptures. I remember her as a good seamstress..right from darning to delicate embroidery to tough upholstery. She lost her father who was a Chief Engineer In Madras, and then had come to live in a bustling but loving joint family in Mahe. The following is a lovely memory she treasures, in her own words. 

a tete a tete with the Prabhakarans

An overcast sky…no power at home, hubby and kids not in station..palms hot with whatsapp and checking FB, phone went off. A memory wiggled into my head,…and I Thought ..why don’t I check the family out..so immediately rang up Aashik, who on a casual meeting had told me about this couple, and asked him whether I could pay them a visit. Yes came the answer, so and as luck would have it, had Abhi, this couple’s neighbor at hand to chauffeur me.

remembering my dad

It's nearing a month since my dad left us, leaving a void, wide as an ocean..

 a studio picture at two, with his favorite doggy, Bag.
He is gone and I measure the yards he covered..old albums which were preserved as treasures were dug out..the pages were yellowed and most were just photo corners without pictures. He lived life on his own terms..he was the spirit at every party, though he did not have any siblings, he was big brother to all his cousins. I thank the Lord that he never had to wait at hospital corridors for tests and reports, nor did he had to sacrifice sweets and spice..he had them all to his heart’s content. God shielded him from tragic events which is hard to escape till eighty odd years. He was insecure without my mom, and never would have a minute passed without him calling out to her..she waited on him hand and foot. Thank God that he was chosen first and so was spared the pangs of separation..which he could not have handled..he had a big heart..and a sad story was enough to empty his purse. Where do they go after they leave us I wonder? How will he cope? He reminded me of uncle Podger..needed assistance for a teeny weeny thing..that too it should come from nowhere but my mom.. Cannot hope for concrete answers, though many claims I have read about.. The cycle of birth and death…but prayers can accelerate their journey towards a better birth..I pray.

Some beautiful moments captured..

his college days

clicked when on vacation..he would talk to all and sundry from the gate and endeared himself to kids,teens  and adults alike

beginning of his tenure at Qatar Petroleum

He was handsome,smart, made his presence felt wherever he was, he dressed impeccably well...a charmer he was.

Picture which he sent his mother after getting his job and bought a radio

his soul mate who waited on him hand and foot and for her, his word was law..here too God Blessed him and she was with him and he did not have to endure the pangs of separation.

 there I am..in a hospital in Doha...my mom till date has no clue to the exact time I was born..ha ha..no anxious grandmas  waiting outside to record the star the child was born into..

 he was a good at Tennis and watched the game with fervor till his last days.

an hour's drive to Umm said, a small town where weekends are a ball ..

his father..whom he adored and worshipped..though they were different as chalk and cheese

an ace swimmer..hours were spent lying on the blue sea..

when he had about of chicken pox..Oh My..mom had a terrible time..he was so cranky..God Bless him

when his mom visited Qatar..a studio picture

party for the Gaana Gandharvan at home

his secret hobby..scientific experiments..this pic was important..but right now have no clue

his team at office

a meal with his bosom friend Khan uncle

fun,and frolic was second skin to him..organised parties and picnics for children when the gang reaches there for holidays..

with the then Indian Ambassador was invited home

evenings at home.

doted on his grand kids

proud father..for my book launch