CALL ME FRANK
A n aunt of my mom – mom’s mom’s sister – was brought to Bombay, by one of her uncles, when she was barely 11. So, as years rolled by, she lost contact with her family in Mangalore. Her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren all got disconnected with their relatives in hometown. Recently, one of mom’s cousins, from this particular family branch, got in touch with me. He was very keen to reconnect with all his relatives from my mom’s side. Thus, we decided to meet here at my place, last week. Mr. Frank Furtado is my mom’s cousin’s name. He is in his seventies… but is good-looking and healthy. We both felt very happy meeting each other. He had many interesting stories to share with me; all of them he had heard from his mother when she was alive… “Call me Frank,” my mom’s cousin told me during the course of our conversation… I was addressing him as ‘Sir’. “Well, that won’t be possible for me, Sir,” I sincerely confessed, “It’s not in my nature to c...