Tuesday, December 16, 2008
1983
My StumbleUpon PageIt was October 1983..The Montrealer had brought me to Northampton one cold night a few days before, from Washington, DC..I needed to change my life and Basha had been imploring me to give up a career path I dreaded and come up to Western Massachusetts.."There are beautiful college girls here, Vasant, and art and music and culture, all the things you love, why die in DC?..come join me!"..
Northampton went straight to my head..the bohemian five college art culture, the New England autumn, Smithies..and Basha....Basha was in his prime, just 30, equal parts businessman, shaman, mystic, musician, rogue, charlatan, romantic..a slight man, no taller than 5 and a half feet, but wiry and sinewy, towering over others physically taller with his volcanic energy..
I shared his apartment on Belmont Street behind Smith College and part of the deal we struck was that I would help him in The Lotus Of Kashmir, his Main Street rugs and textiles shop.I was a terrible employee.I found all the young college women very distracting, with their intoxicating young girl scents and vivacious ways. Basha and I had long lunches of pita bread, dahl and rhita, in the middle of the day, in the middle of his shop, with sensuous Indian classical music playing in the background, chatting up some of these lovelies, in earnest, pseudo-mystical conversations... but really we were just two romantics, naive in that Indian way, not looking for the "hook-up", specifically, but romantic soul-mates for the long winter nights.
Some of these lunches would drift into closing time, around 6, the sun having set and darkness descended, street lamps on and the big Thorne's neon sign opposite the shop blazing bright.....
After closing, we would sometimes go back to the apartment, change clothes, and head out into the night, to one of the many free concerts, lectures, etc.,that the five colleges offered..
Basha would go out of his way to pick up hitchhikers, sometimes making a u-turn..once, we were returning from a club in Greenfield with a woman friend, Lynn, and Basha insisted on stopping, against my objections, to help some drunk college boys who were having car trouble..even Lynn, who was recovering from a ski-accident, jumped out of the car to help, putting me to shame..Basha directed the whole operation, barking instructions, and at the end, as the car jumped to life, the frat-boys were hugging and hi-fiving Basha..
Basha would go on the road, from time to time, leaving me to tend shop..during these journeys, sales at the shop dropped significantly, as I wasn't much of a salesman..I spent most of the time playing my favorite cassettes over and over and hoping some of my women friends would drop in, which rarely happened...Basha did not pay me much over room and board, so I had to improvise when money ran short and took to raiding a huge jar stuffed with coins and dollars in Basha's bedroom..amazingly, even though I would only take a few dollars for meal money, Basha always seemed to notice the difference in the jar and would make caustic remarks..
From time to time, we would have a tiff, and I would leave the shop..on one such occasion, in the evening, I took the PVTA to Mount Holyoke to see a free classical music concert..during the concert, I felt a tap on my shoulder, turning around, it was Basha.." Good music", he said, with a smile," I'm sorry I missed half of it.I made lamb biryani for you, if you're hungry when we get home.." Basha was a vegetarian, so making a meat dish was his most sincere apology, in lieu of saying "sorry", which he never did..
Saturdays in Northampton were something Basha and I keenly anticipated , as did many others..the glorious Saturdays of October and November, before the long winter settled in, were the occasion for soccer games at Smith College playing field, near Paradise Pond..everyone was welcome, young, old, children..Basha and I were fast and tireless and acquitted ourselves well in these games...how interesting that people who were spending bushel-fulls of money at these prestigious colleges looked forward to this simple game so much!..when the snow started falling, we played indoor soccer in the Smith gym, but it wasn't quite the same..
Basha and I never competed for women..we both admired and approved of each other's objects of desire, but we respected boundaries..we actually gave each other advice when one of us was having problems..occasionally, I would take a poke at him and say that the only reason he hired me was to have a councillor on hand around the clock..he would respond by suggesting that I give up my ideas of romancing a certain Smithie.."why do you think she would be interested in an older man, with no money?"
Sometimes, we would come back to the apartment on a Friday, Basha would cook a fabulous dinner for us, then pour himself a glass of wine and sit yoga-style on the floor, with needle and thread, repairing rugs clients had commissioned him to fix.. our background music was the laughter and bits of conversation of young Smith girls outside our window..during these sessions, we would engage in epic meta-physical, philosophical discussions, touching on every subject under the sun..we were romantics, fellow travellers on a road in a world that neither of us called Home..we both knew that life was a song that should be sung with energy and grace, with vibrant, colorful notes..but it was a Sad song and there was no getting away from that.."Most of our lives are filled with petty distractions and cheap thrills," he said after taking a sip of wine. "The true romantic must measure himself by the number of big moments in his life. Not of the mundane and routine." "Sounds dangerous." I said, grinning. "All our greatest art is created by flying close to the Sun," he continued, ignoring me.
" Look at these antique rugs. They are the product of,let's say, divine inspiration. I know you don't like me saying so, but some of the greatest Persian antiques rival Picasso." I didn't say anything.
One December evening, about a month before I would leave, we went to a dinner with Basha's friend Julia. Julia was a pretty, serious girl who went to Smith and she had romantic feelings for Basha. Basha liked her too, but he was cool and in charge, knowing how she felt about him. The dinner was at the apartment of Russ, Julia's artist boyfriend. They were having problems. The dinner atmosphere was strained. Everyone felt the tension except Basha. He was in fine form, telling stories, laughing, drinking,generally holding forth. I remember the reggae music that played from the college radio station that night.
After the evening was over and Julia had said goodnight to Russ, the three of us went outside, walking to Basha's car. We were going to take Julia home. The two of us walked on either side of her, none of us saying anything, lost in our thoughts. Suddenly Julia stopped, grabbing both of us by the arm. "Look!" she exclaimed, pointing up to the sky. It was a clear, black sky and all the stars were visible.. A few snowflakes had started falling.. It was striking, a heart-breaking moment. Then Julia cried out, in an anguished tone, " Where will we be in 20 years, my dear friends? I love you both so much!"I looked at Basha. He smiled, without saying a word. That was 1983, as I remember it.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Belmont Street
In 1983, Amtrak's Montrealer still stopped in Northampton, albeit for about 10 seconds..it was October, it was cold, and waiting at the station was Carla, one of Basha's friends..she took one of my bags and we walked down Main Street towards Smith College..up the hill, past the big iron gates..the big clock atop one of the old buildings said 10.. I was a soccer player, I weighed 140, my senses were wide open..I saw girls walking hand in hand..it was liberating to see!..we walked past a row of expensive shops catering to Smithies and turned left..Belmont Street.. I could smell Carla's perfume..Basha had told me she wanted to be his girlfriend but her "soft breasts" put him off..it was a small building, 4 apartments. Carla took me to the top floor, opened the door, gave me the key and a hug, and she was gone..it was a one bedroom, the living room with a futon where I would sleep....there was no shower, only a bath-tub, with a hand held nozzle to spray water over the bather..something told me the water was going to be cold in the morning..well, it would wake me up..Basha's bedroom was impeccably decorated, with his sensuous, instinctive taste, even though he had left school when he was 12.. I could taste sounds and smell colors again here.. ...antiques and Kashmiri shawls and the hint of green teas.. a very expensive Persian carpet as the centerpiece.. and the scent of pretty women..
Saturday, December 22, 2007
End Of The Century
Leila picked me up at the Best Western in Northampton. It was Friday night, December 25, 1999. She stopped at a gas station to fill up and then we took Crescent to Route 4. Four miles to Easthampton. She was quiet and pensive. Some indeterminate music emanated from the radio and played softly in the background. I looked out the window as the strip mall shop signs flashed by. Store 24. Stop And Shop. Small town New England.
Leila lived in the country, in the valley, and when we got close to her house, she pulled up on the shoulder and asked me to get out and walk the rest of the way. Her babysitter was at the house and Leila was still a married woman, although separated. I walked slowly up the road, hands in my pockets, shoulders hunched into my favorite blue sweater. It was very cold and a bright moon shone down. A car drove by, the babysitter I guessed. Getting close to the houses, I saw the figure of a woman on a porch. It was Leila, smoking a joint. I don't know if it was her intention but this impressed me.
Once in the house,I sat down at the kitchen table while she warmed up some Christmas leftovers. We talked a little while I ate. I could see Mt. Tom in the distance through her window. Around 11, she said she was tired after the long Christmas day of celebrations and gift-exchanging and cooking and tussling with the kids. We went up to her bedroom and I plopped down into a comfortable overstuffed mini sofa next to her bed. She changed into pajamas and slipped under the covers. It was then that for the first time, in the dark, we relaxed and had a nice conversation. After a while she stopped talking and I knew she'd fallen asleep so I took off my shoes and tiptoed off to the guest room.
Next morning, I woke to the sounds of the doorknob turning back and forth. I could hear giggling little girl voices outside the door. Emily and Miranda. Luckily, I'd locked the door from the inside and the girls were foiled. Soon the voices died down and I dozed off. A car might have driven up to the house and driven away.
Some time passed until an authoritative knock woke me. I heard Leila's voice asking if I planned to sleep all day. I explained that I was waiting for her husband to pick up the girls for the weekend and thus off the hook I bounded into the bathroom.
Showered and dressed, we decided to go into Noho to Haymarket Cafe for coffee and bagels. I loved their Cafe Mochas and talked Leila into having one. We took a table and Leila spread out The Boston Globe to the crossword section. The Globe puzzle wasn't nearly as difficult as the New York Times puzzle and I came up with answer after answer and Leila complimented me several times.
After Haymarket, I asked her to drive me to the Best Western for check out since I would be spending the last night with her. While I was settling up at the office I could see her with her little pencil finishing the Globe puzzle in the car.
Then it was back to Easthampton town to meet Leila's good friend Jill. Jill was a woman in her sixties who had fled the craziness of New York City for a sweeter, saner existence in The Pioneer Valley. She owned and worked in a little restaurant called Imagine where Leila occasionally helped out making the soup of the day. Jill fed me a delicious pastry, one of her specialties, and then half-jokingly said I had better treat Leila well or she would have to hurt me. I smiled and said nothing but I was flattered that Leila's friends saw me in that way although it was obvious that she was deeply emotionally entangled in her broken marriage and the past.
After this we drove back to the house to pick up her white Labrador Belle and then headed for Mt. Tom. Once at the top, we parked and embarked on a trail that overlooked the valley. Leila pointed out her house way down in the valley as we walked, a strong icy wind blowing into our faces. After 15 minutes or so, it was obvious that Belle was the only one having a good time so we decided to cut the walk short and head back to the warmth of the car. On the way back Leila stopped to give directions to a man who was lost. It struck me then how shy and girlish she was and completely unaware of how attractive she was to men.
After dropping Belle off at the house, we went back to Noho for lunch. Japanese was the choice. The food was fine and Leila was in a good mood, joshing me about my inability to handle the New England winter and even tweaking my ear once! We walked around the town afterwards and she told me stories about the end of her marriage. Her husband had hurt her deeply, had fallen in love with another woman and seemed happy in his new life. We passed a fashionable clothing store and Leila pointed out their sign and told me that her husband had designed it.
After the walk,we drove back to Easthampton.It was my last night with her and we decided to stay in. There was plenty of food still left over from Christmas for dinner and afterwards we played scrabble. After trouncing me several times Leila got bored and we stopped. On the score sheet I noticed there were scores of old games with her husband. He had won every time.
The following morning we slept in and had breakfast around 10. My train was leaving at noon. I packed up and brought my bags downstairs. Leila was in the bathroom, applying her make-up. I stood in the open doorway and watched her put on her lipstick. She laughed and chattered like a giddy schoolgirl, pausing every now and then to purse her lips for the applicator. I wondered if I had been a salve for her pain for a few hours. I wasn't sure.
On the way to the station, we saw a red-tailed hawk in distress, floundering on the grassy median in the middle of the highway. Leila said she would contact the Audubon Society when she got back. For some reason, this incident brought home a clear realization to me. I would always be looking in at her world from the outside. I had all this love to give but where was it going to go? Her world was closed to me. This was a Truth.
At the platform of the train station we made idle conversation. Then, as the train approached, and it was time for me to go, she took my hand and brought it her mouth and kissed it. A tear trickled down her cheek and she choked back a sob. I felt numb but knew that soon I wouldn't. Something was ending. I was leaving everything that was passionate and romantic and going back to a life of petty distractions and mundane routines. As the train slowly left the station, I looked out the window at the frozen Connecticut River. An old Joni Mitchell song started playing in my head and I wiped the first hot tears from my face.
Leila lived in the country, in the valley, and when we got close to her house, she pulled up on the shoulder and asked me to get out and walk the rest of the way. Her babysitter was at the house and Leila was still a married woman, although separated. I walked slowly up the road, hands in my pockets, shoulders hunched into my favorite blue sweater. It was very cold and a bright moon shone down. A car drove by, the babysitter I guessed. Getting close to the houses, I saw the figure of a woman on a porch. It was Leila, smoking a joint. I don't know if it was her intention but this impressed me.
Once in the house,I sat down at the kitchen table while she warmed up some Christmas leftovers. We talked a little while I ate. I could see Mt. Tom in the distance through her window. Around 11, she said she was tired after the long Christmas day of celebrations and gift-exchanging and cooking and tussling with the kids. We went up to her bedroom and I plopped down into a comfortable overstuffed mini sofa next to her bed. She changed into pajamas and slipped under the covers. It was then that for the first time, in the dark, we relaxed and had a nice conversation. After a while she stopped talking and I knew she'd fallen asleep so I took off my shoes and tiptoed off to the guest room.
Next morning, I woke to the sounds of the doorknob turning back and forth. I could hear giggling little girl voices outside the door. Emily and Miranda. Luckily, I'd locked the door from the inside and the girls were foiled. Soon the voices died down and I dozed off. A car might have driven up to the house and driven away.
Some time passed until an authoritative knock woke me. I heard Leila's voice asking if I planned to sleep all day. I explained that I was waiting for her husband to pick up the girls for the weekend and thus off the hook I bounded into the bathroom.
Showered and dressed, we decided to go into Noho to Haymarket Cafe for coffee and bagels. I loved their Cafe Mochas and talked Leila into having one. We took a table and Leila spread out The Boston Globe to the crossword section. The Globe puzzle wasn't nearly as difficult as the New York Times puzzle and I came up with answer after answer and Leila complimented me several times.
After Haymarket, I asked her to drive me to the Best Western for check out since I would be spending the last night with her. While I was settling up at the office I could see her with her little pencil finishing the Globe puzzle in the car.
Then it was back to Easthampton town to meet Leila's good friend Jill. Jill was a woman in her sixties who had fled the craziness of New York City for a sweeter, saner existence in The Pioneer Valley. She owned and worked in a little restaurant called Imagine where Leila occasionally helped out making the soup of the day. Jill fed me a delicious pastry, one of her specialties, and then half-jokingly said I had better treat Leila well or she would have to hurt me. I smiled and said nothing but I was flattered that Leila's friends saw me in that way although it was obvious that she was deeply emotionally entangled in her broken marriage and the past.
After this we drove back to the house to pick up her white Labrador Belle and then headed for Mt. Tom. Once at the top, we parked and embarked on a trail that overlooked the valley. Leila pointed out her house way down in the valley as we walked, a strong icy wind blowing into our faces. After 15 minutes or so, it was obvious that Belle was the only one having a good time so we decided to cut the walk short and head back to the warmth of the car. On the way back Leila stopped to give directions to a man who was lost. It struck me then how shy and girlish she was and completely unaware of how attractive she was to men.
After dropping Belle off at the house, we went back to Noho for lunch. Japanese was the choice. The food was fine and Leila was in a good mood, joshing me about my inability to handle the New England winter and even tweaking my ear once! We walked around the town afterwards and she told me stories about the end of her marriage. Her husband had hurt her deeply, had fallen in love with another woman and seemed happy in his new life. We passed a fashionable clothing store and Leila pointed out their sign and told me that her husband had designed it.
After the walk,we drove back to Easthampton.It was my last night with her and we decided to stay in. There was plenty of food still left over from Christmas for dinner and afterwards we played scrabble. After trouncing me several times Leila got bored and we stopped. On the score sheet I noticed there were scores of old games with her husband. He had won every time.
The following morning we slept in and had breakfast around 10. My train was leaving at noon. I packed up and brought my bags downstairs. Leila was in the bathroom, applying her make-up. I stood in the open doorway and watched her put on her lipstick. She laughed and chattered like a giddy schoolgirl, pausing every now and then to purse her lips for the applicator. I wondered if I had been a salve for her pain for a few hours. I wasn't sure.
On the way to the station, we saw a red-tailed hawk in distress, floundering on the grassy median in the middle of the highway. Leila said she would contact the Audubon Society when she got back. For some reason, this incident brought home a clear realization to me. I would always be looking in at her world from the outside. I had all this love to give but where was it going to go? Her world was closed to me. This was a Truth.
At the platform of the train station we made idle conversation. Then, as the train approached, and it was time for me to go, she took my hand and brought it her mouth and kissed it. A tear trickled down her cheek and she choked back a sob. I felt numb but knew that soon I wouldn't. Something was ending. I was leaving everything that was passionate and romantic and going back to a life of petty distractions and mundane routines. As the train slowly left the station, I looked out the window at the frozen Connecticut River. An old Joni Mitchell song started playing in my head and I wiped the first hot tears from my face.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Enchanted Evening(2007)
Remembering late December's winter evening, your face in the stained glass window, cardamom tea and prayer rugs, the black dog with almond eyes, route 9 under the night sky, Greenfield and Federal Street, homebrewed beer, wooden floors and socialist sentiment, making our plans in The House of Love, clock strikes 12, Cinderellas frantically try on their glass slippers, as Friday's princes become pumpkins soon to roll awkwardly down Saturday's streets....
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Mashpee
Catherine Wadsworth had given me the use of her Maspee cottage on The Cape for a few days one summer.Basha and I decided we would leave Northampton at ten pm and try to get there by two am. 158 miles east. Sleep in Mashpee, then head for Provincetown, where Basha had meetings with potential buyers for his rugs and knick-knacks.. His friend Lalya had agreed to put us up for the night. The challenge was to stay awake behind the wheel, on a Friday, end of the week. After a big meal at India House!
We were both sleepy at the beginning until Basha introduced "manic depression" into the conversation. His wife had suggested that perhaps he was during one of their fights. We debated this and it kept us awake for much of the trip.
We reached Mashpee at four in the morning after getting lost and driving up and down some back roads. We could hear the ocean and smell the salt and knew we were close. Then we couldn't find the cottage and Basha parked near the beach and went to sleep. I kept looking, walking round and round, and finally found it and the key was under the doormat as Catherine had said.(Later Catherine told me that one of the locals was watching us with binoculars from her cottage, in her pajamas, convinced we had come to rob them). I woke Basha and we went into the cottage and slept for a few hours.
When I woke up, Basha had already showered and flooded the bathroom. I soaked it up with towels and left a note for Catherine. And it was off to Provincetown, 60 miles up the Cape.
We were both sleepy at the beginning until Basha introduced "manic depression" into the conversation. His wife had suggested that perhaps he was during one of their fights. We debated this and it kept us awake for much of the trip.
We reached Mashpee at four in the morning after getting lost and driving up and down some back roads. We could hear the ocean and smell the salt and knew we were close. Then we couldn't find the cottage and Basha parked near the beach and went to sleep. I kept looking, walking round and round, and finally found it and the key was under the doormat as Catherine had said.(Later Catherine told me that one of the locals was watching us with binoculars from her cottage, in her pajamas, convinced we had come to rob them). I woke Basha and we went into the cottage and slept for a few hours.
When I woke up, Basha had already showered and flooded the bathroom. I soaked it up with towels and left a note for Catherine. And it was off to Provincetown, 60 miles up the Cape.
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