By G VENKATESH

Lisbon came as a pleasant surprise. On the plus, the venue was hosting an international conference which meant a great deal to my career. On the minus, my better half, who had all along been hugely excited to visit the Portuguese capital, could not make it, owing to machinations of fate.

I was put up at an apartment a few km away from the conference venue, on what would translate into English as the “Road of Tranquillity” [Rua da Paz]. In keeping with the spirit of the conference — industrial ecology — I made it a point to walk up and down everyday.

Opting for public transportation [trams and metro-railway] is, of course, an environment-friendly approach to commuting; but, then, walking is what one needs to do more and more with the passage of time. It can sure help our Earth get rid of the spectre of global warming that is engulfing it.

Well, this piece has nothing to do with the virtues of bipedal locomotion. It’s about memories of people whom you meet for a few minutes, or hours — people who leave behind lasting impressions in your mind.

These maybe the friendly down-the-block-convenience-store gentleman, whose conduct transcends business, or the old woman who shows you the way to your apartment when you get lost in a maze of streets and by-lanes. You remember them more than the distinguished ladies and gentlemen you meet at the conference. To minds which find joy in discerning the concealed inherent goodness in every human heart, little gestures of bonhomie [normally taken for granted] and small acts of kindness [which the beneficiaries often consider to be their birthright to receive] leave lasting memories. They are what one takes back home and remembers while reminiscing about a given sojourn.

Enter Jagrup Singh

Photo Courtesy: www.sights-and-culture.com

Jagrup Singh [name not changed] works at the BengalTandoori restaurant not far from the Marques de Pombal area, close to the city centre in Lisbon. Thanks to Raquel [my Portuguese buddy and colleague in Norway, who actually hails from Lisbon], and friends Håvard and Hogne, I could visit this place for an Indian dinner one evening. The omnivorous trio ordered their stuff, while yours truly feasted on vegetable biryani.

Jagrup, who knows a smattering of Portuguese and also speaks and understands English [two languages which he has been using in his interactions with customers], was pleased to know that I spoke Hindi. When an Indian meets an Indian in a city which is not Indian, exchange of courtesies slowly makes way for more inquiries — place of birth, reason for moving base out of India et al. When we were done with the dinner, Jagrup asked if we would be visiting again, the next day. I said we would try to — a patent response which may mean “No,” as much as it may mean “Yes, certainly.”

All Roads Lead To…

The next day, Håvard, Hogne and Raquel had other plans. I set out for a walk late in the evening, with my mind not really intent on “dinner propah.” Some croissants would do with vegetable soup maybe, or an omelette with French fries. However, after having walked four km, I found myself staring at BengalTandoori!

Quite unconsciously, my feet led me to the restaurant, possibly to help me to live up to the “We will try to” half-promise.

Jagrup was pleased to see me. I ordered vegetable biryani and coffee. When the bill was printed out, I noted that the coffee was not charged for. I brought it to Jagrup’s notice. He smiled, “You are leaving tomorrow, and possibly may not return to the restaurant in the near future. So, the coffee is a small gift from my side — a token of appreciation.”

A Singhly Gesture

It was a sweet little gesture, though I do not know if it was customary in the restaurant. I did not want to over-analyse. That gesture, to me, was pure in intent, and unsullied by ulterior motives. Of course, I left behind a tip which more than compensated for the “downsizing” of the bill. But, I refuse to be cynical. Even if Jagrup had charged for the coffee, I would have left behind the same amount as tips, perhaps. Such acts of kindness can never be reciprocated — certainly not by tipping. Perhaps, the best way is to record the memory — memories, like rain drops, falling on your head.

I do not know if I would visit Lisbon, again — even if I do, I do not really know whether I would get a chance to dine at BengalTandoori. In other words, I may not see Jagrup, again. But, that little Singhly gesture will forever be remembered whenever I reminisce about my trip to Lisbon.

Obrigado, Lisboa — for adding to my bouquet of pleasant memories.