Social entrepreneur and activist, Kate Currawalla, and former national golf champion and teacher, Kiran Kanwar, miss the friendship with each other’s mothers while nurturing their own
On a sailing trip to Elephanta; (right) Kate Currawalla and Kiran Kanwar flank a schoolmate at a reunion last year
Kate Currawalla, 68, founder president, Maharashtra Dyslexia Association
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Kiran Kanwar, 67, golf teacher, consultant and professor
The founder president of the Maharashtra Dyslexia Association, Kate Currawalla has worked tirelessly to ensure children with Specific Learning Disability receive high-quality testing, assessment and remediation, gaining access to an appropriate education within the mainstream system. A former freelance journalist and short filmmaker, she was a regular contributor to reputed media channels, including the Swiss Broadcasting Corporation and Doordarshan. She has been elected a Fellow of the renowned Ashoka Innovators for the Public, a Washington-based Foundation which promotes innovative entrepreneurship in the voluntary sector worldwide.
Winner of the All-India Open Amateur Golf Championship 1983, Kiran Kanwar has successfully shared her expertise by teaching the game for over 35 years. A Ladies Professional Golf Association (USA) Master teacher and PhD in kinesiology (the movement sciences), she is faculty and Chair of the golf programme at Stanton University in Southern California. A columnist for Avid Golfer magazine and member of the Golf Writers’ Association of America, she advises: “You don’t need expensive club memberships or lessons to try golf. Get the free instruction ebook at www.YourGolfGuru.com, practise the swing at home—even with a stick or rolled-up umbrella—then head to Delhi, Dubai or Singapore to play.”
Kate Currawalla: I have a distinct memory of Kiran, with two plaits, in the Pre-Primary at Queen Mary’s School around 1960-61. I was there for a short while, before returning to London, where we lived at the time.
Kiran Kanwar: Another girl murmured to me about newly arrived Kate—“She’s so clever.” Our early relationship mainly stemmed from our schooldays.
At an Xmas party in Matheran in the mid-1970s; Kiran in Santa cap with Kate behind
KC: We went swimming, watched films. My first movie without an adult was with Kiran. Exciting! We both loved reading. She may remember the Biggles books I’d whack from my brother. As college students we joined the Colaba Sailing Club, spending a lot of our leisure hours on the water.
KK: Kate’s mom, Nergish Aunty, invited me on a family trip to Lonavala and was my friend ever since. She was a wonderful presence in my life. I went to their house for the Zoroastrian Mushkil Asaan prayers on Fridays. We’d also go to Mount Mary’s together—a Parsi and Hindu at the Catholic Basilica.
KC: Exploring the city by hopping onto long distance buses, we once landed in a grassy wasteland, one end of the Juhu airfield. Kiran was an avid photographer, to be relied on to document our adventures. The city changed. Our favourite dosa spot, Woodlands, closed down. Netflix and multiplexes replaced Sunday morning shows at Metro and Sterling, where we used to sing along with the music in the interval.
KK: The St Xavier’s College canteen was a popular watering hole, even during class. So were Samovar and Wayside Inn.
KC: Kiran is a people’s person, I’m an introvert. To my mortification, Kiran’s dad teasingly called me Confucius—he claimed she was always quoting me. Kusum Aunty was more than a friend’s mother. Her warmth and validation were valuable, more so after I lost my father during our first college year. From sleepovers to vacations to gentle hints on draping sarees and buying antique silver, she was a significant influence in my teens. As an adult, I more fully appreciate how important it was to have people like her around. Later, our kids grew up together too. Karan came over to us if Kiran was playing or teaching at the Chembur course, and my sons got golf lessons from Kiran.
KK: Kate and Mehernosh kindly baby-sat my son for years. All three of our kids, little then, became fond of each other.
KC: Hopeless at racquet sports and ball games, I enjoyed tagging along to watch Kiran practise. Interested in kids and teaching, she plugged into my field. It’s very satisfying to see the special education field expand. Dyslexia is now a household word.
KK: We discuss the phenomenal reach of Kate’s work. Golf is quite different, not most non-golfers’ cup of tea. I’m the only person in the world teaching a 100% based-in-science golf swing and am proud of my Ladies Professional Golf Association Master professional thesis on causes of golf injury. Kate is amazing about sending me golf jokes she comes across.
KC: It’s great meeting someone with whom you simply pick up where you left off, without being in touch for months. Kiran is in LA.
KK: We just have to say a few words and instantly know what the other is talking about. Our biggest common source of character and qualities has been Queen Mary’s School—we had our noses rubbed into honour and integrity. Our Sportsman’s Prayer still gives me goosebumps. Sportsmanship is practically unheard of today.
KC: Kiran has a curious mind, always asking questions. She approaches her game scientifically. She chose to go back to college after her son graduated, for the degree she regretted not pursuing earlier. It’s not easy being a student as a senior. Kiran stuck it out, achieving her goals.
KK: There is the extreme comfort of someone being like an old, well-worn glove. A known and expected quantity, not a reflection on our age. I don’t recall an argument with Kate. A case of perfect friend rather than bad recall, I assure you. A friend isn’t someone who gives advice but one who helps.
KC: A level of mutuality and comfort makes it possible to reconnect without really thinking about it. We meet whenever she visits Mumbai. When I attended a conference in Dallas, close to Kiran’s university, we caught up. There are everyday situations where I automatically think of her—if I crave Gujarati food, it’s a throwback to her home. Our happiest memories, and sad ones, are grounded in Bombay where our roots lie intertwined.
KK: Old friends are the best. I told someone who claimed I was her best friend, that I don’t consider someone a friend if I haven’t known the person for at least ten years.
Author-publisher Meher Marfatia writes monthly on city friendships. You can reach her at meher.marfatia@mid-day.com/www.meher marfatia.com
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