Finding the Mountain
By Ean Pollock
I can’t recall when I first met my father’s friend, Ashok; I must have been too young to remember. Ashok Khosla lives in a quiet neighborhood in Palo Alto with his wife, Sue, and his daughter, Jocelyn. When I was younger, my family and I would go to parks and festivals with his family and him. Whenever we went anywhere close to nature, Ashok would find and identify birds just by their shape
from afar or the sounds that they make. I vividly remember his contagious laugh and charismatic smile that made him difficult to disagree with. Inside Ashok’s home, there is a wall covered entirely with framed photographs. Displayed are pictures of all of Ashok’s known ancestors, dating back many generations. In his backyard, Ashok preserves one of the last remaining American chest-
nut trees, regularly dropping sharp, prickly chestnuts from thirty feet above the ground. I feel a one brush by my hair. and roll off my shoulders. “That’s dangerous,” I point out. I asked him if one has ever fallen on his head, and he laughed and nodded as if he had been expecting that question. Ashok Khosla is a multicultural man of many important occupations and interesting talents. He is a busi-