Trini Lopez

 

Sad to hear the news of Trini Lopez passing away. He was 83 but his end was hastened by, what else, Covid-19!

Trini was not in my thoughts for many years. But this news took me straight back to the golden decade of the 60s when in every party, after a few drinks, we would get around to singing his songs “If I Had A Hammer” and “Lemon Tree” which ‘is very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet, but the fruit of the lemon is impossible to eat’. I don’t entirely agree with Trini for I am fond of eating lemon in its raw form! But I guess he was meaning it figuratively as the lyrics that follow show.

Then there was the evergreen “La Bamba” which Ritchie Valens had brought out in 1958 but Trini lent it his own charm and passion to make it to the top of the pops in 1966. It had Spanish lyrics but that didn’t stop us from humming along and shouting “arriba arriba’, ‘soy capitan’ and ‘Bam-ba Bamba’ which we could decipher ourselves. With its fascinating rhythm, we would all be on our feet, clapping and dancing well into the night. “La Bamba” would be familiar to younger generations as well with its revival in 1987 by Los Lobos and its inclusion in the Best Rock and Roll Songs of all time.

Trini is no more but his departure has revived memories of days full of fun and laughter. It is impossible not to get nostalgic and recall Mary Hopkin's unforgettable lyrics, ‘We’d live the life we choose, we’d fight and never lose, for we were young and sure to have our way.’ 

And now, ‘I saw a strange reflection, was that lonely sailor really me?......Oh, my friend, we're older but no wiser, for in our hearts the dreams are still the same."

Trini Lopez, RIP.

BRIEF CONVERSATIONS

 1. Me: “I am going mad.”

Akhila: “Why?”

Me: “I don’t know, I’m just going mad.”

Akhila: “But that you’ve always been.”

Thanks

2. Shumita is reading a book of quirky quotes to her 7-year old son, Raghav.

Raghav: “ I’ll give this book to Nanu.”

Shumita: “Why?”

Raghav: “Nanu is nutty.”

Et tu, Raghav!

3. I ask Shiven, my 11 year old grandson, “Do you think I am nuts?”

Shiven: “No, I think you are amazingly funny.”

Watch this boy. He is going to be a very successful diplomat.

4. Cmde Malia’s jam… sorry, gem.

A naval officer undergoing training in UK is dating a British girl. Since his pocket is not overly jangling with coins, he takes her to a pub where they should be serving free snacks. To make sure he asks, “Do you serve nuts?”

Bartender: “Yes, yes, we don’t care. We serve all alike, nuts or sane.”

I could go to that pub.

5. One for 'resuming golf' times. A course shares its boundary with a lunatic asylum. A golfer’s ball goes close to the fence where an asylum inmate is intently watching.

Inmate: “Excuse me sir, what are you doing?”

Golfer: “ I am playing golf.”

Inmate: “And pray, sir, what do you have to do?”

Golfer: “You see this ball. I am trying to put this in the hole on that yonder green.”

Inmate: “ Hmm, I see. Come in and join us. We are all like that only.”

I think I'll stick to Solitaire.

BRING UP MY MASHIE

Covid-19 has put golf off our calendars. After more than 55 years of an average twice a week golf barring seatime or inaccessibility to a course, my golf came to a stop on 19th March this year with the closing of clubs. Golf courses are opening up now though with a lot of constraints like compulsory prior booking, no caddies and catering facilities and the now normal conditions of face masks, social distancing etc. Add to that the mental resistance caused by 4 1/2 months of lockdowns and the 'unlock' process becomes harder to execute.

The itch to get back to golf is slowly developing and I hope I can soon return to the fairways and greens, not bunkers! To get in the mood, I picked up P.G.Wodehouse’s 'The Golf Omnibus' and some of my previous pieces on golf. Here are some musings which I have put together before I eventually make my way back to the golf course.

In the Preface of the 'Omnibus', I read PGW's lament about the vanishing  of  “the names of most golf clubs so dear to me”, something I have myself felt quite often. He wrote, “I believe one still drives with a driver nowadays, though at any moment we may have to start calling it the Number One wood, but where is the mashie now, where the cleek, the spoon and the baffy?”

Where indeed and why? Would it not be infinitely more romantic if we were to tee-off on a tight fairway with the brassie, pull out a mashie to put the shot in the hole and get an albatross rather than a soulless 2 wood and 5 iron to get a double eagle? What fun to send a ball soaring over trees with a spoon and lovingly coax it towards the hole with a niblick instead of the bland nos. 5 and 9! Wodehouse surmises it might have to do with ‘Progress’ but it was “a pity to cast away lovely names like mashie and baffy in favour of numbers.” 

Was Wodehouse trying to lay the blame of progress on the Americans? Undoubtedly, they are strong on numbers as seen by their fondness for marking streets and avenues in their cities. But this contrasts with their very imaginative naming of golf courses. They have courses named after alcohol such as the Bootleg, Rum River and Scotch Pines; after animals eg, Crumpin’ Fox, Kissing Camels, Rat River and Possum Trot; descriptive like Whispering Pines, Singing hills, Argue-ment and Useless Bay (perhaps named by someone driving a lot of balls in the sea); and tongue twisters like Ngaruawahia, Pauatahanui and Kaitangata. Good luck to golfers asking for directions to get there!

A lot of courses have a story behind their names. Frank Wisner, former US Ambassador to India, took me to a club a couple of hours' drive from New York City. The story goes that some golfers from NYC were looking for a place to swing a club and having driven a considerable distance, stopped to ask a Chinese how far the nearest course was. The answer, "Morefar" earned the club its present name, "Morefar Back O'Beyond". 

Then they have a club named "A Lil' bit a Heaven" which golfers could justifiably call any golf course in the world.

We have shown a singular lack of imagination in naming our golf courses which are mostly designated after the city of location. So we have Delhi Golf Club, DLF Golf Club, Royal Calcutta Golf Club, Bombay Presidency Golf Club, Noida Golf Course etc. We have numerous Army Golf Courses all over the country called just that! Surely, we can break out of the mould with some exotic names.

Indian caddies are more ingenuous. They have apt names for golfers in their club. I stumbled upon this fact in the Delhi Golf Club when I overheard a caddie tell another, “Kachua (tortoise) has arrived.” Not seeing any creature of that kind, I asked the caddie what he meant. It took some persuasion for him to tell me that he was referring to an individual famous for his slow play. 

Subsequently, I coaxed the caddies in the Army Golf Course to open up and give me some names.  They came up with “Putt-to-half” for one who never counted his strokes and made this declaration to his opponent on finally arriving at the green, “Mogambo” for a player who terrorised his caddie for not finding his ball in the rough, “Rahu-Ketu” for the duo that always played together but fought on every hole, 'Puch-puch' for one who always made a kissing sound when drawing his caddie's attention, and so on. 

The caddies do not spare there own tribe too. They have a Naagin and a Sapera addicted to drugs, a Ganapati fond of laddoos and a Dasehri for one very fond of mangoes!

No amount of coaxing would make them say if they had a name for me. I suspect, though, that they call me a ‘Javelin-thrower’ given my habit of often hurling my club like a javelin that would put Odin, the Norse god, to shame!

So bring up my mashie, niblick, spoon, some guttapercha balls and plus-fours and help me find my way to the golf course for auld lang syne.