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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.

Troubled Sympathy

His departure was so abrupt that he began to curse himself for doing so, for it might have given an impression that he was displeased with what she told him. In fact, his wrath was altogether for a different reason. However, he never reacted to any word or deed instantly and kept brooding about it in his own mind, till he was finally prepared to react. When he did react, it was too late, and to a different circumstance or person. He had always been like this, but he could exercise a lot more control over such eruptions in his younger days. Not that he was old now; he was still shy of forty. A slender man of average heights and looks, he looked taller and younger than he actually was.

He’d had a troubled childhood and he hated it. Abandoned by his father, his mother lived with her father who worked as a driver in a small business enterprise and every evening he would come drunk stiff well over an hour after his grandson slept. But he would drag him out of bed, and force him to eat buns, biscuits, and sweetmeats. Although the old man did this out of his love towards the grandson, Madan hated it. His mother Parvati would then have to light the stove to heat the food for old man. She worked in a Papad factory for eight to nine hours a day and needed to turn in early, but she was almost always deprived of her rest by the old man. She kept muttering and sometimes, when she felt it was too much for her, hurling obscenities at him, but he didn’t mind; in fact he didn’t hear her at all. She kept complaining more often than not that apart from giving her shelter in his home, the old man didn’t give anything. Most of his salary went for matka, the Indian variety of gambling, and booze. His attention was all riveted on his only grandson, Madan.

Madan was not an intelligent boy, nor did he have the curiosity natural for the children of his age. His presence in the school would go unnoticed but for the occasional punishments he received from the teachers for his lapses like not doing his homework, or not answering the questions that the teachers asked during the course of teaching, and not being attentive. Being frail, he was also a target for the school bullies, and a butt of jokes for his classmates. Frequent insults and his dislike for reading and writing made him hate the school. But there was no escape for him. Parvati wanted his son to study hard to obtain some clerical job in the government, and support her in the twilight of her life.

His grandfather didn’t care about his education. When sober, he didn’t even talk much, leave alone displaying any affection to Madan. It was only when he was drunk and shorn of all his inhibitions, he would show all the love in the world for the boy. But the boy hated to leave the warmth of his bed, and the pleasure of sweet slumber; he hated the smell of cheap liquor or toddy in the old man’s breath, and of sweat oozing down along the sideburns of the old man. He was filled with animosity for his grandfather.

He grew up but could only complete his high school, that too after a couple of attempts in the Board Examinations, and not beyond. He did go to pre-university college for a couple of months, but then he gave up, realizing that it was beyond his ability. His mother was utterly disappointed with him. Bordering on sixties, she still worked in the same factory. He sat at home for months doing nothing and she included his name along with that of his grandfather in her murmurs of disapproval, and curses.

When he could no longer put up with her grumbles, he set out looking for a job. He wasn’t very hopeful given his qualification and grades. However, he was very young and a proprietor of a private firm took pity on him. He was given the job of an attender and errand boy to begin with. His handwriting was discovered to be beautiful soon, and he got a table and a chair of his own where he would copy documents. He was getting a couple of thousand rupees, which he gave to his mother dutifully; it made her very happy.

On one morning, his grandfather didn’t wake up. By evening he was cremated with all the Hindu rituals. Madan was sorry, but he didn’t cry, or wail like his mother did. Much later, when asked what had happened to the old man, Madan would reply humourously that his grandfather had been forgetful in his last days, and on that day he forgot to wake up. Outwardly though the impact of the demise of his grandfather didn’t show up and he thought he had lost something that he had long been accustomed to, it deeply affected his subconscious. The effect on his mother was that she suddenly began to look at least ten years older than she was.

Parvati began to press Madan to get married. She began to ask all her acquaintances, and a few relatives that remained in touch to be on the look out for a suitable bride for him. Madan never thought of marriage, never had any crush, never even had any sexual urge that could drive a young man mad, nor did he feel that he needed a companion. He was contented with his routine job, was loyal to his employer and had no hobbies or habits. Again his mother started muttering complaints, more so after she was mildly told by her employer that her faculties had weakened and she no longer could perform her job as expeditiously as was required and she had to retire without any pension.

Madan had never got angry with his mother, nor had he ever replied back to whatever she said, however angrily. He was like a cow tied to the pole that was his mother and behaved like a nincompoop with her. He never even so much as retorted to any of her wrathful remarks for neglecting to carry out her only wish, which was to marry and raise a family. A couple of proposals that came from acquaintances either fell or were staved off by Madan, by just not responding to his mother’s queries. She could have selected a bride herself, or she should have, for in any case he wouldn’t have dared go against her wishes. Somehow, it didn’t happen. Now he’d well past the age of marriage.

Even at the workplace, his co-workers used to wonder why he was not getting married. They used to make fun of his bachelor status, which is very unusual in their considered opinion. Some used to say behind his back that he was interested in men. Some simply gossiped that he was impotent. It would fall on his ears, but he ignored all such gossip and baseless accusations.

A week earlier, he’d met a woman by chance. Pushpa was the wife of a former employee, who had died in an accident nearly a year ago. Although she was not a looker, men would certainly have a second glance at her. She had a child, a beautiful girl. She’d come to the office to collect the salary arrears of her husband. She’d walked to his table and had asked, “If I am not mistaken, you are Madan”

“How do you know?” he’d asked her with amazement.

“I was your classmate in the school. My name is Pushpa. Of course you don’t remember me,” she’d replied with a smile.

He had nodded and said, “It seems long ago now. But it is astonishing how you remember me.”

“You haven’t changed a bit. You still look like a schoolboy I saw years ago, and moreover I had heard that you were working here,” She’d replied gleefully.

After she’d left, Sudarshan, one of his colleagues made fun of him during the tea break when all the colleagues were present. He’d said, “You know friends why Madan looks so happy today? He’s met his childhood sweetheart.” Obviously he’d overheard their conversation.

Everyone started staring at him with surprise and someone asked, “Is it true Madan. How wonderful, after all these years!”

“And, along with a wife he is getting a child free,” Sudarshan said.

“That’s nice man. Now that Madan is too old to have a child of his own!” Patil, another colleague said with a wink.

“Even if he can have children, it will certainly save his efforts,” Sudarshan had said and all had laughed.

Madan should have berated Sudarshan for talking nonsense. But being what he was, he’d calmly heard what was said about him and it slipped into his subconsciousness. He had asked a female colleague about Pushpa and learnt that she was in distress, with husband no more and a child to look after, abandoned by her brothers and parents –in-law alike. She was working at one of the beauty parlours that had mushroomed of late, as help.

A thought had crossed his mind this morning that marrying her would not be a bad idea at all. It would help her and fulfil his mother’s wishes too. He’d gently outlined this to his mother, who was angered at hearing it and had said, “You didn’t marry when you had to. Now you want to bring a widow to this house? Have you gone mad? Don’t you realise that widows are inauspicious?” and he’d suddenly left. In fact, he was thinking about what his colleagues had said and that had raised his tempers. What his mother had said was at the back of his mind now.

He went straight to the beauty parlour where Pushpa worked. Seeing him, Pushpa asked her employer to be excused for a while and she came out.

“What a surprise! How come you are here?” she asked.

“I have come to meet you. I need to talk to you,” he replied.

“About what?” she questioned further with curiosity.

“About you and me,” he said. She was perplexed.

“Ok,” she said and walked under the shade of the trees lined by the side of the road. “Tell me,” she asked him with raised brows.

He didn’t know what to say, how to begin. He was now repenting to have come to meet her. I am a nitwit. My colleagues talk nonsense and I take it seriously. Like a fool I come running over here. Why, I do not even know her. He thought and looked bewildered.

“Is something bothering you?” she asked showing concern.

“Nah, I…I just came to know if I can help you in anyway,” he blurted out.

She smiled and said, “Thanks a lot but I’ll let you know if I need it. But you said it is about you and me?”

“I err… nothing. It just slipped out. If you need anything, you know how to contact me,”

“Of course I know. Thanks. I can’t stay away from my job longer. Bye,” said she and started towards the entrance of the parlour.

“Bye,” he said under his breath staring at her back till she disappeared and then strode towards his office.

At his office he went to Sudarshan’s table and sat silently opposite him. Sudarshan was studying a file. After a while, he raised his head and looked at Madan with questioning eyes.

“The other day what you talked about Pushpa was wrong,” Madan said in a calm tone.

“Why,” Sudarshan said with surprise, “I was just joking pal.”

“It involves the reputation of a woman. Doesn’t it?” Madan persisted.

Sudarshan closed the file and looking into his eyes, said, “Look Madan. You are right and I am really sorry. But we really didn’t mean it. After all she is the wife of a former colleague. Moreover, if you marry her, you’ll rise in our estimation, for none of us dare do such a thing, you know.”

Madan felt that Sudarshan was really sincere after looking at him for long. Then he rose to reach his own table. Before he reached his table, the receptionist called out, “Madan, call for you.”

He took the call. The voice was that of Pushpa. She said, “I’ve been wondering what made you to come and meet me. Now I understand. But look Madan, I am sorry. I do not want anybody’s sympathy. I am strong enough to take care of myself. But thanks anyway” the line went dead. He replaced the phone and walked back to his table.

***

He reached home late in the evening. His mother came to living room where he had just slouched on the chair and said, “Madan, I have given serious thought to what you said this morning. I was wrong. Times have changed and I have already a foot in the grave. God Almighty may send for me anytime. Who will take care of you then? So you better marry Pushpa. You’ll have all my blessings.”

Madan rose from the chair with the expression of exasperation on his face, placed his hands on his mother’s shoulders and said, “Look mother, it is not possible. Perhaps you alone were right. I am tired.”

“I know why you say so. Pushpa refused. Didn’t she?”

“How do you know mother?”

“She told me herself. After much thinking, I’d been to the parlour to meet her. She thought you were offering to marry her out of sympathy. I told her to have sympathy on you and me, on the contrary.”

From the kitchen, the cute kid walked out and behind her Pushpa was coming out with a wide smile on her face.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

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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