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“Ramappa, Veeranna, you are still hanging out here! Come on! Hurry up! He has already arrived and the procession has begun! Where are the people you promised to bring?”

Lingaraj gulped down the remaining portion of his favourite rum and wiped his mouth by the back of his palm before looking at the person who was excitedly shouting at some people who were busy too gulping down their own brand of liquor. It was Suresh who was yelling, a recent drop out from a degree college and a political aspirant. He wore a brownish Khadi shirt without collars and white pajamas. The gold chain that he wore around his neck was peeking out and shone brightly against the background of his dark skin. There was a big crowd today in the wine shop that was licensed only to sell liquor and not to serve it on its premises. Parashuram Kalal, popularly known as ‘Parsu’ the owner of this lucrative business, could flout the rule with such impunity because the number of the beneficiaries of his shop that included quite a few local authorities, outnumbered those who opposed it.

Lingaraj fumbled in his trouser pocket trying to find out if he had money to buy himself another quarter bottle. A quarter-bottle was just another drink to him and he foolishly took pride in it and liked to boast about it to all those who cared to listen to him. All he could find was a ten-rupee note and a few coins. He went to the counter and asked Parsu for a top up of half a quarter of the cheap rum placing the note on the counter. Parsu smiled at him and gave a sealed quarter bottle and returned the money too, saying, “Sawkar, you needn’t pay today. Doctor is coming to Hoovinakere for the first time after election, you know. He is paying for all”

Being addressed as Sawkar, which is reserved for the rich people and landlords, brought a contemptuous smile on his face. If there was any sarcasm in Parsu’s tone, he could not be sure. However, at the mention of doctor he felt a pain deep inside him, a pain in the neck that had become a part of his life ever since he was forced to shoulder the burden of a huge extended family. He wanted to return the bottle in protest and felt like shouting “I don’t want any charity from your doctor” but he didn’t want to create a scene. Instead, he silently took the bottle and sat on a bench nearby. At least half a dozen people hurried after Suresh speaking to each other at the top of their voice and totally ignoring Lingaraj sitting there. As the cacophony died down and a soothing calm and silence descended, Lingaraj lifted his head to find that but for one old man in almost rags greedily licking the pickle that was supplied to the customers free of charge, all others had left and Parsu was silently counting money on the counter and making entries in a ledger.

Yes, a lot of people ignore me these days; in fact all the people including my own family, ignore me, thought Lingaraj; I don’t give a damn who ignores me, he tried to console himself. He swatted a fly that was constantly hovering over his head, cursing it loudly. Parsu looked up and said, “As soon as the summer begins, these bloody flies swarm the place. Very difficult to rid of them.” Lingaraj didn’t care to reply. True, the bloody flies… always swarm the places where they get crumbs, nay where there is rotting filth, like these people who are flocking to welcome their dear leader, only because he is throwing crumbs at them. They call him doctor, ugh bloody doctor. He took eight years to study Ayurvedic Medicine, to complete a course of just four years! He then began prescribing allopathic medicine without knowing either the causes of the disease he was treating, or the medicine he was prescribing. Even an RMP is a better doctor!

A lanky man wearing a dirt-stained dhoti and a tailor-sewn banian with a pocket just above the abdomen entered and taking a glance at Lingaraj went straight to the counter and greeted Parsu, placing a twenty on the counter. Parsu knowing fully well each customer’s requirement gave him a bottle of whisky with a glass. Lingaraj wondered how the stranger’s dhoti could resist the gravitational pull on his slender frame. “How are things Basanna? No work today?” Parsu asked him in a friendly manner. “No,” replied he wiping his mouth with an end of his dhoti, “All the workers have gone to welcome Gouda who has become some chairman of some government corporation. People were saying that he is now just like a minister”.

It didn’t escape Lingaraj’s notice that the new customer was deliberately saying this loudly and was glancing at him sidelong, obviously accusing him of not being a part of the welcome party of the doctor. Lingaraj was irritated that people simply didn’t mind their own business. The stranger’s name was Basavaraju perhaps, and so was the name of the doctor in whose honour the whole village was gathering and bringing him in a procession, as if he was a god. Everyone used to call him Basu when he was still young, why even when he was practising medicine, most village elders and some youngsters, who were close to him, also addressed him so. In a few years the number calling him by name has dwindled and now he is addressed as Sawkar, Annavru, doctor sahebru, or simply sahebru.

The sound of the beating of huge drums and exploding of crackers was gradually increasing suggesting that the procession was nearing the liquor shop. Lingaraj started looking at the street desultorily. In the last less than a decade, quite a few new RCC buildings had come up on either side of the street, but the street itself had remained as narrow and filthy as it was back then. Some shop-owners had constructed slabs over the gutter carrying stinking sewage, but at other places it was open spreading the rotten smell in the air. Lingaraj saw a young girl of about ten passing in the street and was reminded of Maramma, whose father he’d tried to console this morning. What a tragic end for the little girl! ‘Tchu tchu tchu,’Lingaraj made loud sound feeling pity.

The unfortunate girl was only daughter of Peeranna and Lakshmi, both landless agriculture labourers, living in Maidur, about five kilometers from Chandapur, in a thatched hut that the couple themselves had built from jungle-wood poles and mud. She’d never been to school, never played with friends or dolls, never wore new clothes, never seen anything outside the little village she was born in, never been to a movie house, never eaten colourful sweetmeats that were displayed in glass jars at the only grocery store in the village, never knew how milk tasted, let alone ghee or curds, but she never complained. Till a little brother was born about a few months ago, she accompanied her parents everyday to different farmlands, and worked with her mother. Though frail and malnourished, she worked almost as hard as her mother in the fields and helped her mother cook rotis at home. Of late she was cooking on her own as her mother could hardly free herself from the newborn.

Lingaraj had been to Maidur the previous week after hearing about the tragedy that had struck Peeranna, with whom he had come to be attached closely though Peeranna was only a labourer toiling in what had remained of his huge chunk of land near Kuppekere, a tank refilled every year more by the backwaters of a barrage than by scanty rains. Peeranna, a tall and sturdy man with a handsome face, was a very hard worker, knew how to read and write though he never attended any school, never over-indulged in habits, either good or bad, was contented with whatever he had or would get, and was at least a decade younger than Lingaraj. Shy and tight-lipped with everyone, he would never speak ill of anyone and he reminded Lingaraj of a bull, which was his family had reared and which was his pet animal during his childhood. At least the bull could be aggressive at times, but Peeranna was never.

By the time he reached Maidur, the body had undergone postmortem and had been handed over to the family and the village elders and friends were advising Peeranna, who was silently shedding tears, to complete the last rituals as quickly as possible. Nobody knew if Peeranna did or did not have any relatives for none knew where he’d come from. Everyone thought he was migrant labourer who would leave as soon as the working season would be over, when he had first appeared along with his wife and Maramma, who then was only a few months old baby. But Peeranna had stayed on and had built a hut for himself outside the village, and had settled down there gradually growing roots. His wife had sprawled under the dappled shade of a small neem tree and was surrounded by women who were wailing.

Some of the people came to Lingaraj the moment they saw him and gave him the details. The previous day the younger child had taken ill and Peeranna and Lakshmi had been to a clinic in Hoovinakere, while Maramma was left alone in the hut to cook dinner. The kerosene lamp placed on the window accidentally fell on the girl spilling the kerosene all over her clothes and she was quickly engulfed by fire. The dry straw used to cover the frame of the door and parts of wall too caught fire. At first the girl was so shocked that she just didn’t know what to do except yelling for help which couldn’t be heard by anyone for quite a long time as the nearest house was located not less than fifty feet away. When finally help came, it was too late and she’d collapsed. Much later when she was taken to the government hospital in Hoovinakere all that the doctor present could do was to declare her dead.

Lingaraj was at loss of words to console Peeranna for his own grief was no less than that of the latter. And he had never been good at expressing himself and he felt that those who could use words and sentences, gestures even profusely were actually not as sincere as their words sounded. In fact he was enraged at some local leaders who visited along with a village level official, took some signatures from Peeranna saying that he would get one lakh rupees from the government as compensation for his loss. Could the death of a cute little daughter be compensated by money? One of them taunted Lingaraj too saying, “Peeranna, you are fortunate that Sawkar is here, he would certainly talk to his brother and help you get the compensation! Won’t you Sawkar?” obviously alluding to his conflicts with his brother. Some did not even hesitate to say loudly that since the girl had died an unnatural death, instead of cremating she had to be buried and some special rites needed to be performed so that her soul will rest in eternal peace instead of being hung between this world and the one above. Women from the village who had gathered were wailing as though singing a sad tune out of pitch, without even a drop of tear in their eyes. All this though unbearable, he had to put up with and keep his face free of any trace of wrath. Then he had other things to worry about. It was hardly any secret that Peeranna didn’t have even a penny on him and all those who had gathered there could not perhaps have been able to help him out. Moreover, he was sure that Peeranna wouldn’t extend his hands for alms, whatever the situation. So he took over the whole thing and arranged for the last rites of the girl and had left watching the tears of gratitude, apart from grief, in the eyes of Peeranna, thinking that the world is not fair, not fair at all.

He felt a pain emanating from his chest. “Bloody sour belch!” he cursed and tried to ignore it. Of late he had lost all appetite for eating and was eating very little or nothing at all while he kept drinking liquor throughout the day. All his lands had been lost to his habit of drinking and a couple of acres of land that he retained was being cultivated on crop share basis by his neighbour, who was kind enough to lend him money as and when demanded without questioning; ‘for old times’ sake’ the neighbour used to justify his action whoever cared to object. Last week Lingaraj had received his share of money for the current year, which was only a couple of thousands of rupees after deducting all earlier advances that he had received. He had spent most of that for the funeral of the girl and today he was broke.

People had started avoiding him like a plague, in fact running away even from his shadow because he was always drunk and had taken to the habit of asking for some money indiscriminately from everyone, be it a college going boy, a farm hand, a coolie or a government clerk. Ha ha! Even Peeranna is more respected than I am today, though they all call me Sawkar! Why don’t I feel ashamed of myself? My family used to be the richest in the village, in fact in most villages in the neighbourhood. Until my wife died in childbirth, I used to wear a gold chain of five tolas, a Titan wrist watch and Bata sandals. How happy I was then! Never expecting childbirth to be a killer, I had been preparing to be a father and had thrown a party to at least a hundred people. Wasn’t that the first occasion when I drank liquor? The bitter taste, the rancid smell and the hangover had all led me to decide that I wouldn’t touch it again in my life. But that was not to be. It stuck to me like the iguana to the wall. The birth of a child was the only opportunity when I could have brought pleasure to my parents…

***

To be continued...

MY FRIEND DESERVES THE BEST

He wasn’t so absorbed in his thoughts as not to notice a face that was so familiar; it was etched permanently on his mind, though it was nearly a decade after which he had sighted it. Although Jagdish was not sure it was the same face, his right foot inadvertently slammed the brake pedal to the floor and his Maruti Zen careened to a screeching halt. He turned back to peruse the face once again to confirm his doubts. There was no doubt. It was Srinivas Kankanwadi, known to his friends as Seenu. Back then when Jagdish was in the last year of his school, Seenu had a thin line of hair over his lips; it was now a fully grown, brush like moustache, half of it covering his upper lip.  His hairline had receded to reveal much of his forehead. His dusky colour, the result of sun tan because of playing in the scorching sun, had also become light pale now. But the eyes and nose were unmistakably Seenu’s. He wore a striped brown shirt tucked into black trousers. Surprisingly, he’d not put on any weight and looked very fit. Still Jagdish can’t be too sure. He therefore, thought better of yelling out Seenu’s name and after killing the engine, he got out of the car.

Jagdish hardly had to approach the person to verify whether he was or was not Seenu, for the latter was scanning the car and the driver carefully and the moment his gaze fell on the face of Jagdish, he shouted with a pleasant surprise, “Jaggu!” and a wide grin covered his face revealing his tobacco stained teeth, which protruded out of his mouth always, permanently giving the impression that he was grinning. Only those who knew him well knew when was really grinning.

Seenu rushed towards Jagdish and gave him a bear hug. Though as pleased as Seenu was, Jagdish felt a bit uneasy and had to struggle a little to release himself from the tight grip of Seenu. Seenu at last let him go and said, “Well Well Well! Look who is here! My own friend, who is the only nearest and dearest friend of mine! I am so damned pleased to see you Jaggu! What a pleasant day it is. I knew something was going to happen today, because when I went to Hanuman temple this morning, although I was not praying for something in particular, a flower fell from the right shoulder of the God! Very auspicious it was. Wasn’t it? Then you appear, as a bolt from the blue! Now what more can I ask for from the God?”

Seenu was always like this; he never hid any of his feelings. He was very talkative, very articulate and unabashedly flamboyant. Every now and then in the classroom he would be standing on the bench as a punishment for being a chatterbox. But he didn’t feel ashamed at all when he stood on the bench and on the contrary he went on making faces at whoever cared to look at him, which made some of the girls giggle, and receive a warning from the teacher. He was also a wisecrack, although his quips ended in punishments that he endured willingly just to entertain the classmates. Once when the history teacher asked him where Mughal king Akbar was born, he replied, “I am not sure m’am but he must have born in a Civil Hospital!” On another occasion, a science teacher asked him what a cloth merchant would do if he’d nothing to measure the cloth but had a cloth with a length of 1.25 meters but Seenu wanted 2 meters of cloth. To this he replied, “Sir I don’t require 2 meters of cloth, my tailor asks only for one meter to stitch a shirt for me!”

“You were so quick to reconise me! How could you?” Jagdish asked.

“But for the unnecessary weight you have put on, you are as you were when I saw you last. I think that was more than a decade now. You didn’t have moustache then; now too you don’t sport it!” he replied jestingly.

“Well, you’ve kept moustache that is more than enough for both of us,” Jagdish too tried to be ludicrous.

“What are you doing for you life pal? Are you married?”

“I own a motor vehicle spare parts shop in Jamkhandi. Of course I am married and I have two children. Both boys,” Jagdish added proudly, and asked, “What about you?”

“After you went to Bagalkot for Diploma course in mechanics, I joined commerce. Of course I couldn’t graduate and even the graduates were not getting any jobs. I came to Bangalore about five years ago. I am now employed in a multinational company you know, as a sales manager and earning enough to support my parents also back home. Our company S&G is into BPO and Manpower Agency.”

“Married?”

“Not yet. I couldn’t think of marriage until I got a stable job. Now I am thinking of marrying. It is not too late I suppose.”

“Not at all. But now you’ve got to hurry,” Jagdish agreed with him.

Jagdish noticed that Seenu was carrying a cell phone when it cheeped. Seenu received the call, “Hello”

‘…’ 

“Yes, Achari speaking”

Jagdish gestured Seenu to follow him to his car and unlocked his door. Seenu sat on the front passenger seat. Seenu was still speaking on his phone.

“No problem sir. You can have a look before you make a choice. I will personally be there at 4 in the evening.”

‘…’

“Ok sir. Bye,” Seenu said, disconnected the call and smiled at Jagdish.

“When did you become Achari?” Jagdish couldn’t suppress his curiosity.

“Well, when I first came to Bangalore, I introduced my self as Srinivasachari to people here. The north Karnataka names are difficult for the people over here. So I dropped my family name Kankanwadi. More importantly, the name Srinivasachari is weightier than mere Srinivas dost. Very few people know that I am from the north. Many think I am from Tamilnadu!”

“Ah, funny. You must have learnt Tamil also”

“I know both Tamil and Telugu now. All these are required for sales job. And down here, these are techniques of survival!” Seenu made a matter of fact statement sternly, and then added with cheers, “Not all can be as lucky as you have been. You were so damn intelligent, the teachers loved you and most of the girls had a crush on you!”

Jagdish felt embarrassed at the praise.

“Are you free now? We have met after such a long time. You have brightened up my day. You were the best friend I had in the school. Remember? We have a lot to catch up.” Seenu asked after a while.

“I’d come to Bangalore to place some orders and make some payment to the supplier in cash. The supplier has gone out and he won’t be back until evening. So I am free,” Jagdish replied and then enquired, “Where are you taking me?”

“Since I am a bachelor, there is nothing you can see at my place. Let’s go to a resort where our company has a permanent booking. It is used for VIP guests of our company. And for me you are a VIP. My friend deserves only the best!”

“Alright,” said Jagdish hiding uneasiness and turned the ignition key and the car came to life. Seenu guided him and after driving for almost an hour, they came out of the hustle and bustle of Bangalore traffic and then Seenu pointed towards a small road on the left. Jagdish saw that the road ended with a two-storied building with outstretching bay windows and a tapering roof of red tiles that looked like a farmhouse fashionable among the rich to have, as it was surrounded by coconut, areca nut, mango, and neem trees. A liveried security guard stood at the tall iron gates, and he saluted as the car entered premises of the resort. A couple of stylish, latest models of luxury cars had already been parked in the place marked for parking.

The interiors of the resort were in total contrast to its exteriors. The floor was covered with Diamond tiles, huge but intricately adorned flower vases stood in the corners, the pillars were rounded and covered with brilliant colours, and the walls were covered with oil paintings. Everyone seemed to recognise Seenu and greeted him with welcoming grins. Leaving behind Jagdish to sprawl on a richly cushioned sofa, Seenu went to the reception counter and talked to a lanky person wearing jeans and T-shirt. He returned after a while and beckoned Jagdish to follow him to a room. The door was ajar and they entered into the tastefully decorated room to find a huge king sized bed, a sofa set with a glass topped teapoy. Jagdish noted that the bed was not made.

“This is our usual room. The company I work has rented it on monthly basis to entertain its guests,” Seenu explained.

“Must be very costly,” observed Jagdish. Again Seenu’s mobile sounded and he received it and grunted, “Achari”

‘…’

“Please don’t worry. I will be there along with others at 4,” said Seenu before disconnecting.

“Seems like you are a busy man,” Jagdish said.

“The sales job you know, it sucks sometimes. I need to be in Mysore at 4 in the evening.”

A liveried waiter entered with a tray that was cluttered with Antiquity, mineral water, soda and a couple of packets of potato chips. As he was laying those thing on the teapoy, Jagdish said, “Seenu, I don’t drink whisky during the day time”

“Alright, you may have beer,” replied Seenu and before Jagdish could object to that he instructed the waiter to bring a chilled beer.

***

It was almost two in the afternoon and Jagdish had already consumed half bottle of whisky. Seenu too had finished two bottles of beer and at last a couple of pegs of whisky. Both had gobbled butter chicken with rice. They had covered all former friends and classmates, their teachers, and mutual acquaintances in their conversation. A short, stout almost bald person with a grim face, wearing jeans and a black wind sweater entered the room.

“Ah, hello Jacky,” Seenu greeted him rising from the sofa and addressing Jagdish said, “Jaggu, I’ll be back in a minute.” He did not shake hands with the newcomer, but both of them went to the corridor outside the room. As Seenu had not cared to close the door behind him, Jagdish could watch both of them conversing, although he couldn’t hear what they were talking. The stranger was waving his hands and making violent gestures. Seenu took out something from his pocket and gave him, but the conversation continued.

After a while, Seenu came back and sternly told Jagdish, “ He is Jacky, a salesperson from our company. His brother has met with an accident a couple of hours ago and has been taken to the hospital. He’s badly in need of money. I gave him five thousand bucks but that was not sufficient. He needs at least ten thousand more.”

“Poor fellow! Perhaps the company will bear the expenditure,” Jagdish suggested.

“Certainly, but not at such a short notice. After everything is over, he would have to present the bill to the company. The problem is I don’t use the ATM card, you know, because I feel it is insecure. I can’t even go to my bank now as I have got to leave for Mysore immediately. Perhaps you could lend me ten thousand so that I can help him,” Seenu requested.

Jagdish was in a fix. He could refuse, but the situation was difficult. He was meeting an old friend after a long long time, and couldn’t say he didn’t trust him. He thought for a while and took out his valet and gave Seenu ten thousand rupees. Jacky seemed to be satisfied after receiving the money from Seenu and just as he left the waiter came with the bill.

“God! I had forgotten all about the bill!” Seenu exclaimed.

It was a bill for a few bucks in excess of four thousand. Jagdish had to pay it. Seenu gave an embarrassing look, and said, “Jaggu, it was supposed to be my treat. I am so sorry”

“No problem Seenu,” Jagdish almost suppressed a whine.

***

“Sorry, I couldn’t meet you this morning. I had to depart suddenly to my native place,” the supplier Vishal Sharma apologized to Jagdish late in the evening.

“I would have certainly complained had I not one of my old friends this morning,” Jagdish replied.

“I know that if I had met you this morning, by now you would be back in your home. It was a lot of inconvenience to you,” said Vishal remorsefully.

“Don’t you worry. I will leave tomorrow morning. And thanks for caring,”

“Bye the way, what did you do till evening? Surely your friend couldn’t have kept you company the whole day. Everyone is busy in this damned city”

“My friend was there with me for most part of the day. He took me to a resort called Blue Moon”

“Blue Moon?” Vishal looked puzzled, “What’s the name of your friend?”

“Srinivas, but he is known as Achari here.”

“My God! I never thought you enjoyed going to such resorts. And that fraudster is your friend?” Jagdish could feel the jeer in the tone.

“I met him almost after a decade. He was my classmate in the school. But what do you mean by ‘such resorts’?” Jagdish was worried now.

“Just tell me more about your friend,” Vishal said softly.

Jagdish narrated the whole encounter he had with Seenu.

“Ah! Manpower Agency, he said, didn’t he,” Vishal said with some amusement, “He’s right in a way. In fact he provides escorts. you know what I mean? Women!

“When he first came to Bangalore, he was broke. In fact I have heard that he was a run away from his home. He worked for a Live Band for sometime. He was caught having an affair with a bargirl or whatever they are called. He lost that job. He used well the contacts that he had acquired working there for his business, as a matter of fact, very well. He was also involved in a chit fund scam. He tried his tricks in real estate also, but the goons in that business almost beat him to death. Thereafter he left real estate.

“He said that Jacky was an employee of his company and was in distress. Jacky must have come there to recover money on someone’s behalf. I know for sure that Jacky is used as recovery agent by private moneylenders. He is a small time thug with underworld connections. Anyway, you were lucky that you got away losing only a small amount of money.”

Jagdish was shocked and flabbergasted. Never would I trust anyone hereafter, he swore to himself.

SMS

“Hi Gud Mrng!” Raghav viewed the message on his cell phone and realizing that it was from an unknown number, he closed the inbox, put his cell phone in silent mode and headed towards the lecture hall, on the one hand cursing the unknown sender of the message under his breath and trying to focus his attention on the diminishing margin of utility that he was going to teach in the class, on the other. This was his sixth month in the college as a lecturer, the job that he had obtained after paying a hefty amount euphemistically called as donation, but which in fact was an unaccounted income for the management of the institution. Of course, his father had paid the money after selling a couple of acres of land, not without suppressed grief in his eyes and flood of tears in the eyes of his wife, Raghav’s mother.

Raghav had just been an average student but he was the only one in his family to have obtained degree, not to speak of a post-graduate degree. His father was very proud of Raghav but when Raghav couldn’t get any job, he was worried to death. Education had left Raghav unfit for the hard toil on the family land, not because Raghav didn’t like to toil, but Raghav’s father wouldn’t let his son, after getting such higher education, about which he had been bragging before all and sundry in the village, to undertake agriculture, for then everyone in the village would have an opportunity to make fun of him. “What is the use of spending so much on education if his son wouldn’t get any job based on his qualification? He has been a fool squandering away his hard earned money on a useless enterprise,” so even coolies working in his fields would say. He, therefore, had been left with no other option but to sell his land.

Immediately after obtaining his MA, Raghav had started working as a part time lecturer in one of the degree colleges in Hubli, but the remuneration was just enough to maintain him in the city. He had no future in that job as the college had been recently started and would not be considered for grants-in-aid from the government for at least a decade to come. However, he had a wonderful acquisition while working there, in the form of his student Bhavana, a cute, smart, young girl with husky laughter, which never failed to arouse him. She was now in the final year and both had decided to wait till she completed her degree. To wait to get married, that is, although he never specifically asked her to marry him.

Now that he was more than four hundred kilometers away from her, working in Bangalore, he had not been able to meet her for the last four months. Everyday he spent about three hours in public transport from his to his college and back. The remaining time was spent in the college preparing for and delivering lectures. During the day, at any time she might be pleased to send messages, and he could ignore them only at his own peril. And everyday at 9 P.M., it was mandatory for him to call her and talk to her at least for an hour.

What had been amusing initially had turned out to be a pain in his ass. Not that he was no longer in love with her, not even that he had found someone more attractive, but the pace of life in Bangalore, the demands of his job, left him totally exhausted at the end of the day. Moreover, he had to keep in touch with his parents, friends, apart from taking care of the unavoidable task of cooking for himself, in order to save money as well as eat something healthy.

That Bhavana is child-like even childish at times, came as a revelation to him only when it was too late. He was already deep into the vortex of his relationship with her. It all happened so fast that in hindsight it looked like the buildings and trees running past his window in the bus, in the opposite direction. Within a couple of months of her joining the class to which he taught, she had started coming to his chamber with problems and questions, seeking his help. When he looked into her eyes, he knew he was in love with her and soon he gave her a red rose, held her silky hands and told her what he felt for her. She started weeping, he doesn’t know why even today and allowed him to kiss her.

***

 

When he came back to the staff common room to have a cup of coffee, he remembered that sms. The number did seem familiar. In the last week, at leas a dozen messages had come from that number. Sipping the bitter coffee, he viewed the number once again. He wanted to call that number and ascertain who it was, but another message was delivered that instant, and from the same number. “Sorry, I sent dat msg by mistk” it read. But still he decided to save that number as ‘who’, which he was going to repent soon.

Late in the evening, when he had finished an hour of ordeal on the phone with Bhavana, he received another msg from ‘who’. It was a cheap mobile-shayri.

“Jindgi me kabi pyar mat karna

Pyar ho jaye to ikrar mat karna

Ikrar kareto us rah par chalna

Warna kisiki jindgi barbad mat karna”

Now Raghav was intrigued. If the earlier message was sent to me by mistake, why again the same mistake has occurred? Thought he. It might be some friend or acquaintance of mine, just trying to have a little fun at my cost. Or it might be some student… but he’d not given his cell number to anyone in the college, except to one colleague and the principal of the college. Both were in their fifties and hardly knew how to send an sms. They sending any sms, that too a cheap shayri, was totally ruled out. Now that he had registered his number for DO NOT DISTURB, promos, calls offering loans and credit cards, even membership of clubs etc had completely ceased.

He suppressed the urge to place a call to that number; at least he would know whether it is a man or woman, a boy or a girl. If it were someone he knows, he’d be able to recognize by listening to the voice. But he soon dismissed all this as trivial and went to his bed.

The next morning, when he took the handset to view time, he found two messages waiting to be viewed. Both were from the same ‘who’. One read ‘gud mrng hav nice day’ and another read ‘want 2 b my friend?’ Now Raghav was slightly irritated. He was sure it was someone who wants to flirt and even more sure that that someone was a guy looking for a girl. He keyed in a reply immediately, ‘I don’t want any friend. Already hav enough’ and set out to get ready for the day’s routine.

When he finished the first lecture, he received another sms, ‘wat do u want if not a friend?’ to which he replied with some anger, ‘if u r a girl under 23 yrs u can chat wit me.’ ‘y girl only, r u a boy?’ bang came the reply. Now he decided to play along. He replied, ‘I m a strt guy intrsted only n girls, but not 4 frndship’

‘den wat r u intrstd in?’

‘u can undrstnd, cn’t u?

‘u hav GF?’

‘no’

‘don’t hav lover?’

‘no. u can be if u r slim, hav gud figure & under 23’

‘I m all dat & more’

‘R u a student?’

‘Y do u ask? U want only students?’

‘No, any1 fitting my criteria wil do. Rite now I m busy. Bye’ he wanted to end the chat and prepare for the next lecture. ‘By 4 now’ came the reply.

###

Till late in the evening he was not disturbed. At 9 p.m., as mandated, he called Bhavana. She was a chatterbox. When speaking she would not care whether something is relevant or irrelevant. Once she started, he went on saying ‘hmm’, ‘yes’, ‘ok’, whenever she paused for breath. She would ask what he had for breakfast, lunch and evening tea, what clothes he wore for the college, could he catch his bus, how is the weather, and all such silly things. Then the conversation would end with ‘I miss you, I love you’ and a couple of kisses, rather the sound of kisses. It required immense patience for all this, thought Raghav.

He hadn’t had his dinner yet and he was in no mood to cook. He decided to go to a nearby hotel. When he reached the hotel, without thinking twice he decided to have a couple of drinks. Just when he finished his first glass of vodka, his cell phone beeped conveying the arrival of an sms. When the screen came alive for viewing the message, ‘had your dinner?’ he knew it was from the same anonymous person he had named ‘who’. He brooded for a while and finished another drink and replied, ‘ how does it concern u?’

Then immediately he sent another message saying, ‘I’d made it clear dat I m not intrsted in making friends. How do I know u r a girl?’

‘U can test me’

‘K wat’s it dat u wear under ur dress? Wat’s d size of ur bra? What brand of panties u use?’

It took a full fifteen minutes for the reply to arrive. When it did, it was, ‘I wear a slip under my dress. I don’t use branded panties’ and there was nothing about the brassieres. God, why am I getting an arousal? Raghav cursed himself. ‘k tel me ur name?’ he asked.

‘Not so soon. U tel urs 1st’

‘It’s u who’s strted chatting wit me.’

‘Vanita’

‘Real or imagined?’

‘Real. Urs?’

‘Vikram, Vicky 4 all’

‘Ok tho sounds phoney!’

‘Just like yours’

‘Wat r u looking 4 in me?’

‘Don’t know. U may be horny, just like me’

‘No, I m looking 4 a friend’

‘I told u I m not. U stil r persisting’

‘wat do u do wen u r ….like tht?’

‘I get lucky by meeting some1 like u!’

This chat went on and on till the waiter came up to him and reminded him a third time that the hotel is closing. Raghav had forgotten to order for his dinner and had a drink or more than his usual, and now it was too late to order. He left the hotel after paying the bill, thinking of the bananas he kept in his room.

Next morning he awoke with a heavy head and red eyes. It was the worst hangover he had experienced in years. He gulped a Crocin after a light breakfast and started towards the bus stop. ‘Hi, gud mrng!’ the sms from ‘who’ again!

‘Gud Mrng! How r u?’ he replied.

‘Cool. Wat abt u?’

‘Last night I had a couple of drinks more than usual. Now I have hangover, severe headache and loss of appetite’ He took time to type the whole sentence.

‘U drink too?’

‘Wat’s new abt dat?’

‘Nothing. I didn’t know it’

‘How could u know?’

‘U know who I m?’

Raghav was perplexed. Is it someone he knows?

‘No idea,’ after considering for some time, he thought it must be one of his classmates in the college and the first name that struck him was that of a close friend Veena with whom he had lost touch and added, ‘my guess is dat u r Veena’

Suddenly his phone rang and it was from ‘who’. As he pressed the answer button and tucked it to his ear, he hear the voice of Bhavana!

“You could not guess it was me? I couldn’t sleep the whole last night. I never understood you. How shameless you have been asking an unknown girl what she wears and all. You had told me all lies. You told me you do not drink! Now I understand you perfectly. You made use of me; you have never been in love with me…” she hurled one accusation after another. What an ass I have been chatting and flirting with some unknown number. He cursed himself for not calling the unknown number immediately to ascertain who it was. He had done an irreparable damage to the life-long relationship he had determined to keep intact. How fragile are human relations. All these thoughts crossed his mind while he was preparing himself for the explanations that might appease her.

***

Thunderbolt

People like surprises, only if they are pleasant ones, thought Shrishail. He considered his visit certain to give immensely pleasant surprise to Abhay, his childhood buddy.

It is almost a decade since he last met him. Why, he had not met him after the final year of their graduation. Shrishail had written a couple of letter to Abhay, but the latter never cared to reply. It was simply not in his nature to be writing replies to his childhood buddy. From some common friends, Shrishail had come to know of Abhay getting a job in the Life Insurance Corporation of India, and of his marriage to a colleague. Thereafter, there was absolutely no contact of any sorts. Shrishail had obtained a bachelor’s degree in library science and after six months of search, got an appointed as assistant librarian in an industrial concern in Surat, Gujarat. By then his father had lost his due to old age. He was working as an unskilled labourer in one of the sawmills. His job carried neither job security nor pension. All his life he had toiled hard and in the process had become frail, old and infirm. The two-room house he had lived in with his family all his life was a rented house, and it was in shambles due to the neglect of the owner. Since he was paying a meager rent, he couldn’t force the neighbour to carry out repairs and maintenance periodically. The owner would have been more eager to throw his tenants out rather than incur expenditure on account of maintenance of the unprofitable blocks he owned.

Shrishail’s appointment came as a godsend relief, to both his parents and the owner of the house. Within a couple of months, he took his parents along with him to the residential quarters provided to him by the company. It was a two bedroom flat located in a 6 flat building, surrounded by lush green lawns and his parents thanked god that they had been bestowed with such a good son.

The only thing that they disliked about their son was that he had fallen in love with a local girl, whose father was a junior engineer in the company. But they couldn’t help it. The girl Savita, was not only good-looking, she was good-natured too. She was very compassionate, lovable lady. Her father had six daughters and a son. Although initially he too had opposed the marriage of his daughter with a South Indian boy, he later welcomed it simply because he will be spared of paying hefty dowry, a practice prevalent in his community. After all, he had five more daughters to take care of.

She had turned out to be a wonderful and ideal daughter-in-law and above all, within a year she gave birth to a son. The joy of his parents knew no bounds. They forgot that she belonged to another community, another culture, far too removed from their own. Severance of their roots in the south had instilled in them homesickness, and a deep-rooted grief and the marriage of their son to Savita had closed the door for bringing a bride speaking their own language. However, they soon forgot all this and Savita was already speaking sufficient Kannada. Shrishail was happy for his parents, and his own joy was boundless. His work was sufficiently remunerative and fulfilling. But…

He too missed the place he had been brought up. He missed his friends, especially Abhay, who was the closest and the dearest. Separated by thousands of kilometers of distance, neither he could attend Abhay’s marriage, nor Abhay could his.

Abhay had been his friend since both were in fifth standard, studying in a government school. They were poles apart, as far as nature and character were concerned. While Abhay was a bully, aggressive, impulsive, adventurous, rebellious, naughty and mischievous, Shrishail was a shy, well-behaved, hardworking and intelligent boy. But they were attracted to each other for quite unexplainable reasons. Evil does have a fatal attraction. In height, build and looks, both were similar and both belonged to lower middle class families. Abhay had two younger brothers and an elder sister. Shrishail was the only child to his parents. Abhay, like an elder brother, protected Shrishail from other bullies in the school, and was a great company to him.

While in the school, there used to be constant complaints about Abhay, from schoolmates, classmates, teachers and everyone that he always managed to annoy in one way or the other. He was too fearless and amoral to be hindered by any considerations while carrying out his pranks. Sitting behind the girls in the classroom, he would join the ponytails with a ribbon. He would bring live mice, cockroaches, and even harmless non-poisonous snakes to the school to evoke fear for himself. He would lift his leg and fart loudly without any hint of shame on his face. When he was thirteen, he wrote a love-letter to a shy looking, frail girl who was a classmate and handed it to her while the entire class was watching. The girl took the letter and instead of reading it, she began to cry. When the teacher came to the class, he noticed it and asked her again and again what was wrong. But she wouldn’t tell. Nobody had the courage to tell the teacher for they too feared the consequences. The girl didn’t reply, and to her relief Abhay too didn’t insist for a reply. Shrishail was relieved that the girl had not complained to her parents, for he knew that her father was a butcher.

Shrishail would accompany Abhay on some of his adventures, which were somewhat safe. They used to steal guava fruit and mangoes from the backyards of some big mansions. Once he even smoked bidis in a cinema house with him. But the smoke brought coughs and he developed distaste for the fetid smell of the bidis. At times Shrishail used to be afraid of being a friend of Abhay. His admiration for Abhay’s audacity would be overcome by his sense of rectitude. But it was like he was under magical spell. He couldn’t just shrug off his friendship with Abhay.

Another incident brings smile to Shrishail even today. There was a certain Ms Verghese, a Keralite, just into her thirties and a spinster. She was the strictest of all teachers. She used to teach science. All the students, even some of her colleagues used to be in fear of her censures and reprimands. She was a strict disciplinarian and a stern moralist. Nobody had ever seen her even smiling. At all the times a permanent scowl was stuck firmly to her face. Once she was conducting a class test and all the students had been required to keep all their belongings outside the classroom, so as to prevent them from cheating. It couldn’t evade her keen observation that Abhay was putting has right hand in his trouser pocket again and again. She concluded that he had concealed something in his pocket. She approached his desk and asked him to stand up. He stood up and put his hand again in his trouser pocket.

“What do you have in there? What are you hiding?” Ms Verghese asked in a cracked but raised voice.

“Nothing ma’m,” Abhay replied with wry grin, which instantly raised her temper.

“I will check it myself. Take your hand out,” she ordered him and he complied instantly.

Ms Verghese put her hand in his pocket and she withdrew it with a jerk as though she had received en electric shock. Now her face turned red and dark with anger. “Get out of this class this very instant!” she yelled at him. He calmly handed his paper to her and went out of the classroom with an even wider grin. Later when Shrishail caught up with him, he explained what he had done. “I had torn my pocket and had inserted my cock into it!”

“Shit. It was a nasty act man!” Shrishail replied but he couldn’t help laughing. Ms Verghese was wise enough not to make an issue of it and thereafter she never dared touch any boy or girl in her classroom.

It was when both of them were in first year of pre-university course that Abhay took Shrishail to a corner of the city that he not even knew existed. There was a cluster of hutments with stinking open drains. The smell of illicit liquor wafted in the air. Abhay entered a house which had brick walls and Mangalore red tiles on the roof. There might have been two or three rooms in the house. A large lady sitting on the chair stared at them with a comical look. “What do you want?” she asked.

“What else do you have?” Abhay asked her in reply.

“You are too grown up for your age. You have money?

“I certainly do. How much?”

“Fifty rupees for once”

“I will give twenty-five”

“Forty”

“Twenty-five”

“Thirty”

“Ok” Abhay gave her thirty rupees. Shrishail hadn’t the least clue as to what this was all about. “That is for the two of us,” Abhay told her.

“Nothing doing boy. It is for one. Otherwise I will throw you out and won’t even return your money,” the lady said calmly. Shrishail had his heart in his mouth. He was trembling like a grass blade. “What is this all about Abhi?” he whispered. Abhay replied, “You are going to have your first experience with sex boy.”

“I can’t. She is an old woman. I can be crushed by the weight of her single leg.”

Abhay suppressed laughter and said, “Are you crazy? There is a girl inside the room.”

“Even then I can’t. I don’t like it here. I am nauseated.”

“She won’t return our money. Ok. You are too pusillanimous. You are not a man. All right, I will go. You just wait here.”

Half an hour later, when Abhay came out of the room, Shrishail was even more relieved than Abhay was!

***

 

What a wonderful day! Shrishail said to himself looking at the clear blue sky and feeling the feather like touch of smooth, cold wind. I am back in my city and going to meet the dearest friend of mine. When he entered the compound of Abhay’s house every thing felt so familiar to him and he almost felt at home. A man in his twenties, with brush-like thick black moustache approached him. “Isn’t it Shrishail anna?” he asked.

“Who else? And I think you are Adi” Shrishail replied with a warm smile and placed his hand around his shoulders. “You are as tall as me,” he observed. Aditya, whom everyone called Adi, was a younger brother of Abhay. “What do you do?” Shrishail regarded him and asked. “Got a readymades boutique,” Aditya said with a smile, “ in the main market area.”

“That sounds very nice! Is Abhay home? Today is Sunday.”

“Yes he is home. He is not keeping well for the last couple of months,” Adi replied grimly.

“Why? What is wrong?” there was alarm in Abhay’s voice.

“It’s a long story. Right now he is asleep. Let’s go to my room. I have too much to tell you,” Adi replied in a stern but stable voice.

“Last week we took him to the Medical Research Institute in Belgaum,” Aditya began as they settled comfortably in his room, “An Elisa Test for HIV was carried out and it turned out to be positive. However, the doctors asked us to have a second and more scrupulous test in Bangalore. But Abhay has refused to go to Bangalore and said he was sure the results from the Institute were perfect.”

It struck Shrishail as a severe shock and as the truth dawned upon him, he felt a seething pain in his chest. “What?” was all he could manage to blurt out. His face turned pale and he felt that all the strength he had had been swept away. It meant that Abhay was HIV positive and possibly the dreaded AIDS.

Aditya opened the window and slouched in the nearby chair. He too was feeling out of breath. “Shrishail anna, we haven’t told this to anybody, otherwise we all will be treated like lepers in the city. But I couldn’t keep it from you. After all, you have been the closest friend he has.”

After trying to compose himself for a while Shrishail asked, “How bad is he?”

“Too bad. May be another couple of months,” Aditya replied matter of factly.

“My God! Why is he not hospitalized?”

“Doctors said it is of no use,” again the voice devoid of all feelings.

“His family… I mean his wife and children…” Shrishail couldn’t complete.

“Perhaps you do not know that his first wife committed suicide by burning herself. That was five years ago. His in laws did not think it was a suicide. They lodged a complaint with the police and he was charged with dowry harassment and murder. He got life imprisonment. We appealed to the High Court and there he was acquitted.”

This was another blow to Shrishail, equally rude. His eyes widened and his mouth opened even wider.

“He did some time in the prison,” continued Aditya, “ He lost his job and then we took him into the business we are doing, that of readymade garments. A couple of years after his first wife died, he married again. He has a son from the first wife who is studying in the same school where you both studied.”

“What about the second wife?” Shrishail asked in a defeated voice.

“She too is ill and has been found to be positive too. She is staying with her parents now.”

“My goodness… The boy is all right?” Shrishail couldn’t desist from inquiring.

“He is clean, hale and healthy. He doesn’t know anything about this. He is a very lovable boy, obedient, industrious and intelligent; totally unlike his father,” Shrishail could feel an edge in Adi’s tone.

All along his journey, Shrishail had been visualizing how he was going to give a pleasant shock to Abhay, but now he was at the receiving end. He was battered by the shocks he had received one after another. He was stunned and felt as though he was in a daze, as if his soul had gone out of his body.

There was a long moment of stunned silence. Not knowing what to say or what to do, Shrishail asked, “May I see him now?”

“All right. Come along,” Adi said and rose from his chair.

***

 

If Adi had not pointed out, Shrishail would not have recognised the frail structure lying on the bed. There were only bones and bones and not even an ounce of flesh in the body. It was like a skeleton wearing clothes.

“Anna! Anna!” Aditya called out in a raised voice. Abhay slowly opened his eyes. “Look who is here to see you,” Aditya said. The eyes turned towards Shrishail in an unhurried manner and stared at him for a long long moment. Then there was a flicker of recognition.

“Shri…shail…” The voice was way below a whisper.

“Hello Abhi. How are you?” Shrishail asked, putting a lot of effort in keeping himself calm.

The eyes were filled with tears. Shrishail had never seen Abhay cry. He too began to sob. “It’s all right. Every thing is going to be fine,” he managed to say. It was a false assurance. Both knew it.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Aditya pointed towards a chair. Shrishail sat on it carefully. A boy, hardly eight years, came with a cup of tea and handed it to Shrishail. Shrishail didn’t know whether to accept it or not. Deep in his mind, there was some fear, although he was well informed about the dreaded disease. He took a couple of sips calmly.

Suddenly Abhay’s hand slipped from the edge of the bed. Adi rose quickly and held his brother’s hand and called out in alarm, “Anna!” Shrishail placed the cup on the table and approached Abhay. His eyes were open, but they were lifeless.

*****

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