Saturday, February 13, 2010

The Three Idiots; Nah just one!

End of a week which decidedly had ‘evil’ stamped all over it. Nothing went right.
Tanmay banged his cycle into a gangly kid, I accidently sat on kc’s reading glasses, the dentist pulled out the wrong tooth ( or so I thought) and my reservation for going to Bhopal wasn’t even confirmed till 12 at night. With the garangutan bags I had I couldn’t even dream of flying. The penalty would have added to more than the ticket.
I worried stiff the whole day for the poor kid. I stared at my computer screen but all I could see was the ugly gash on his knuckle. I worried if he was alright. Maybe he broke a bone. Or the dust may have inflamed the wound. What if he was allergic or worse haemophiliac. I thought of that moment when the accident happened. Tanmay was so miserable that he hid behind me like a frightened mouse. I looked at him wistfully and felt like hiding behind him. I worried for the kid and myself. Luckily the crowd wasn’t hostile. So I and Tanmay were safe but extremely worried and sorry for the kid.

I felt enraged when Tanmay had already forgotten about it by the time he returned from the school and chided him for being rude and lectured him on ettiquettes.

So the next day armed with some candies and cookies we went to apologize to the kid.
I heaved a sigh of relief as I saw the kid playing. I enquired if he was ok. To my horror even the kid stared at me blankly as if I was asking him something a month old. There I was expecting him with a swathe of bandage wrapped around his knuckles and both his palms. But The wound was as visible as the kid’s memory. Looked like I was the only one who remembered about the accident.
To add insult to injury Tanmay playfully rolled the packet of ‘good day ‘ on the bench and pointed his forefinger to the kid who had already admonished me for disturbing his game. I swear I could see a hint of sarcasm on the face of the eight year old boy. I sheepishly told him to enjoy it himself. The devil gave a cheerful grin.
Luckily the ticket in the first class in AP Express was confirmed at 12.30 am and then I started the packing. When I reached the station it looked like my house was on fire and I brought everything that was at home. I barely had my suit, two shirts and a few clean underclothes and three pair of socks. Rest all belonged to onal. She had left Hyderabad for good and I ever the chivalrous, was keeping my promise of bringing her things. Ah God! Why did you have to make me so good.

Inside the cabin, My things were every where.One suitcase was so excited that it even refused to go below the seat. It lay there in all its pregnant glory in the aisle. I never felt so embarrassed.
Fortunately the co passengers were charming people. One old couple and one young boy.
The journey was pleasant. I was carrying ‘The Kite runner’ by ‘Khaled Hosseini’, a sweet sad tale of two boys against the backdrop of war ravaged Afganisthan. I had reserved this novel in the Miami Library and each time the queue was 40/42. Luckily onal had purchased this one. I walked through the trouble torn alleys of Kabul as the writer skillfully weaved the tale.
A friend had gifted Chetan Bhagat in USA. I could barely read a few pages. I found it pedestrian. I find it hard to believe that he is india’s most successful story teller. All the rushdies , arundhati roys and seths. My apologies! This genex has very different tastes in reading.
The young boy in the next seat jumped on seeing the book and requested if he could borrow it. I cheerfully offered it as a gift. He asked me to write something on it . I wrote ‘ Life is a Journey. To my young journey man with the best wishes that he rides the train to success.’ From a fellow passenger . camp : Kazipet station.
He was impressed and insisted that I write my real name. also he wanted my gtalk. He introduced himself. He was doing his graduation from IITD. I flinched. I explained I was too old for him and I take the word friend very seriously unlike his generation and can claim barely four or five people as friends. He looked at me contemptuously and said he expected more broad mindedness from someone living abroad. I tried again.I lied that I don’t chat. He said we can exchange emails. I tried my charm. Told him that he was a very smart boy and kind of intimidated me. He was silent. I thought my flattery worked.
When I woke up chetan bhagat was lying next to me. The young man was pretending sleep.
I sighed and kept it back in my back pack.
Perhaps I am wrong. This time I will read the whole novel. I must stop seeing the world through my prism.
Also my apology to the young man. You live in another world. You live by your own standards. They don’t necessarily agree with mine. The chasm is too deep. Past experiences can validate that. Also the loss is totally mine.
I have no illusions .
There is just one idiot. And that is me.

Tomorrow the D Day. Indore and the grand engagement.


  1. Sudir, Nice to see you writing after such a long time..

    You are not as old as u sounded here..also I too belong to the "his generation"..I always feel your posts have something common with the way I think....kindred spirits ..may be
    And look we are from different Generations..ha ha

  2. Hi Anand,
    Thanks for your comment. It's readers like you who make me want to write.
    and i agree i am not as old :P
    thanks once again.