IDIOSYNCRASIES

Approaching Yet Another Fall

2011-08-19T12:31:00.000+05:30

Suresh Hiremath, humble, self-effacing, always trying to please others, had been constantly tagging along me for a quite a while now. Of late, he’d started accompanying Vijay and me every evening to the city for my daily quota of drink and mughlai chicken. Although he too like Umesh had kept all the acquaintances under the impression that he was a teetotaler and a pure vegetarian, of late, if only to please me, he’d begun to drink a small peg of whisky and to partake in my plate of Mughlai chicken, though initially he took only the Sherwa or the gravy part only. What I liked in him most was that he was not secretive and exhibited no holier than thou attitude, like Umesh and his kind did, despite the fact that he belonged to the highest and priestly caste of the Lingayats. He was sitting in deep conversation with Vijay when I returned after talking to Umesh. He had joined us just before we entered the restaurant holding a polythene bag, declaring that he had made some purchase. As I sat opposite them asking Vijay if he had placed order for the drinks, Suresh gave me the bag, “Sir, this is for you.”

“What’s it?” I asked him as I opened it partially to reveal the contents- it was a T-shirt. “Why did you get it for me Suresh?” I asked with disapproval, as it felt like a bribe for whatever I had been doing for him. Receiving gifts always produced some kind of unease in me.

“I found it in the roadside stall sir, and I remembered you. It suits your fair complexion very well sir.”

It was a white t-shirt with dark blue stripes and felt like smooth wool when I touched it.

“Please don’t think otherwise sir, it is just that I felt like buying it for you,” Suresh tried to explain.

“Why didn’t you feel like buying one for me swami?” Vijay asked, just to tease him.

“It doesn’t suit you, Mama, it is meant for lookers like Harsha”

Instead of taking offense, Vijay said, “For once, you are right. But any type of dress suits Harsha”

“Those who have hair can have any hairstyle they like,” Suresh said in a lighter manner.

“Are you guys finished with your silly observations? If so we can call the waiter,”

I remarked feeling embarrassed.

“We’ve already ordered,” The waiter entered the cabin as Vijay replied.

“By the way, I saw Bhaskar and Mohan near bus stand,” Suresh informed.

“Well, it seems they have got together again, after a long time,” Vijay observed.

“Bhaskar can never leave Mohan alone, you know. He doesn’t have any existence apart from Mohan. It is a wonder that it took so long for him to catch up with Mohan,” I said trying to keep my voice normal. It was not palatable news to me. There had always been sort of cold war between Bhaskar and me for grabbing the affections of Mohan. Of late, however, Mohan had drifted away from both of us. Bhaskar could easily outdo me because he would not mind being Mohan’s sidekick or ‘chamcha’, which was detestable to me. But today, I was not bothered about either of them, for Kavya had filled every nook and corner of my mind.

Mohan and Bhaskar caught up with us later, at the city bus stand. “Hello brrrotherrs!,” Mohan hollered with deliberate slur. I knew he was never too drunk to slur and sway, but he liked to act like he was. Bhaskar hugged Vijay in a display of overflowing emotions, as though he was meeting the latter after a long, long time, which too was his way of showing that he was drunk. It seems so ridiculous, but those days we not only wanted to drink, but wanted to show off that we were proud to be drunk!

Mohan clasped my arm and said, “Brotherrr, still half an hour is there for the last bus. Let’s have one more drink!”

“Mohan, I have already had my dinner. I don’t drink after eating.”

“Nothing'll happen, man, at least to me. Won’t you buy me a drink? It’s been long since we drank together.”

“Okay,” I agreed, “But we can’t go to bars now. They’ll all be crowded.”

“Yes, we’ll have it over the counter,” Bhaskar added.

We went to a liquor shop opposite bus stand leaving behind Vijay and Suresh, who wouldn’t come there for the fear of being recognized by someone. It didn’t take more than a few minutes to gulp down our drinks and lick the achar supplied free of charge. The whole thing felt cheap, standing amidst dhoti clad villagers, smelling of sweat. When we walked out, Mohan’s eye fell on a couple of women standing with their trademark baskets near the grill encircling the pavement round the corner.

The Beginning of Magic

2011-06-09T13:19:00.000+05:30

The moment I entered the botanical gardens through the turnstile, it suddenly struck me that I had quite forgotten about Vijay, who was with me in the lecture hall and after the class was over, had gone out for a while and had not returned. Where the hell had he gone? But had he returned, I wouldn’t have had time alone with Kavya for which I felt grateful to him. It was good that he’d vanished. But now I needed him; needed someone to talk to; as none seemed half good a listener as he. I felt a hand being placed gently on my shoulder and I turned back with a start. There he was!

“Vijay! Where’d you been?”

“You must thank me first for leaving you alone with Kavya. You were so absorbed with her that you didn’t even notice me peeping into the lecture hall. And you’d quite forgotten that I’d skipped out to the office to submit a certificate.”

“Oh yeah! I remember it now,” I said gratefully, “You indeed owe me for keeping out of way.”

“I can see that you look a bit disappointed, though the gleam in your eyes has not yet faded. Something is wrong?”

“It’s nothing. She talked to me really well, but didn’t even turn back to look at me while leaving.”

“Tsk tsk, she belongs to a very traditional and dignified family dear, don’t be under the impression that she is going to be easy. In fact, I think she is not your type. You better leave her alone!”

“Vijay, there’s nothing like ‘my type and your type’. Every girl can be molded to suit my type” I said in what seems in hindsight pure arrogance.

“Or rather you can mold yourself to suit the preferences of the girl, till your ends are met!” He blurted in half jest.

“You might say so!”

The botanical gardens were as shady and cool as ever, but had never felt so pleasant before. I had never known that a smile could be so attractive, so enchanting and so beautiful. Kavya kept smiling at me again and again, even before my wide open eyes. Her dreamy eyes, the braids hanging down from both sides of her glowing cheeks, the intoxicating scent of her proximity, the soft, soothing -at times causing galloping of my heart beats- brush of her shoulders with mine, all kept flashing at the back of my mind and unknowingly, I kept smiling to myself as though I was the happiest man on earth. I didn’t notice that Vijay had been eying me with puzzled look.

“What makes you smile so much? Suddenly your spirits seemed to have lifted up” He said trying to avoid a branch of tree coming in his way.

I couldn’t tell him, could I? That would have been negating all the impressions of me I had laboriously built up, without realizing the futility of it all.

“I just remembered what Bhaskar had told about Vani, how she makes cries out with delight while…” I deliberately tried to change the subject and left the sentence unfinished.

“Does she really?” He asked with sudden sensual interest.

“Hmm..”

I could see that his curiosity was even more aroused.

“But not as laud as he describes. He always exaggerates things,” I added. I was amazed at my own capacity for lying. I needed to confirm Bhaskar’s description to denigrate Vani, defame her character to avail Vijay’s support to finally ditch her. I needed badly to show her in bad light so that I could get away with my own wrong doings! A faint twinge of guilt and shame travelled through my mind, but I could suppress it easily. I wanted to put all that reminded me of my brief encounter with Vani behind, and move forward towards the glittering sky of future, that was Kavya. Was I utilizing Kavya too? This was the question I didn’t dare ask myself at that moment.

* * *

The ‘Prince’ had just opened for the evening business when we walked through the entrance nodding at the smiling owner of the hotel. Just as we were entering a cabin, I found that another group of boys was sitting in the far corner of the hall and one of the guys, who looked familiar, was trying to hide himself. Obviously, he didn’t want people to watch him sitting in a hotel serving liquor and non vegetarian food. I looked hard and recognized him. “Excuse me for a while,” I told Vijay and walked over to Umesh Melligatti. I remembered that he had been Kavya’s classmate in the undergraduate college. Realizing now that there was no way he could avoid me, he started walking towards me, so that at least he could shield his group from being discovered in this place.

“Why were you trying to hide from me?” I asked him as I took his extended hand.

“I don’t usually come to places like this Harsha. Some of my old college mates brought me here. This is your usual hangout. Isn’t it?’ He couldn’t lie convincingly.

“I don’t care who goes where dear. It isn’t a big deal. Is it?” I ignored his counter question deliberately.

“Not for you who’s from a big place like Belgaum. Dharwad is just a big village. Word spreads here too quickly”

“Anyway, you needn’t worry about me and you know it only too well. What I wanted was to talk to about one of your classmates in your college.”

“By any chance, is it Kavya?” he asked with a teasing grin.

“What if it is?”

“I would rather you stay away from her. She is not that type.”

“What if I tell you I have successfully changed her?”

“I won’t believe you Harsha. I have seen her for almost four years”

“Ok. It hardly matters whether you believe it or not. It only shows you don’t know me.”

He considered it for a while, indicating that he had started to believe me.

“What I can say is that you should be very cautious. Especially of her brothers. She is a very decent girl”

“Thanks. You must be having her photograph, at least a group photograph?”

He looked up at me with suspicion. “If you are so cozy with her, why don’t you ask her?”

“You know very well Umesh, why she can’t give me one. She is still terrified.”

He again took some time to think it over and then nodded. “I will give you a group photo taken during our study tour.”

“Thanks brother. You may now join your group. Have a nice time!”

He nodded and walked away.

Rediscovery of Kavya

2011-03-24T18:18:00.002+05:30

For the next couple of days Vani did not turn up at the department and everybody, to my relief, assumed she was indeed not keeping well. However, I was not sure I had escaped unscathed and the thought kept nagging me like a shrew. Mohan kept on assuring me that nothing would come out of it, that Vani had come on the trip on her own volition and had everything that she did voluntarily. All the same, I wanted to make sure that I keep myself in a safe distance from Vani and for that I had to justify myself somehow. At first I thought of telling her that I was going steady with a girl from Belgaum, but then she would blame me even more, for keeping both the girls in the dark about my misdeeds. That too, only when she believed that there indeed was a girl in my life.

Why, I thought, I could show her a girl right in the university and say that I had fallen in love with her. But for that I had to find a girl who would be friendly enough with me in order to impress upon Vani. I was sitting right behind the girls in the classroom when these thoughts were crossing my mind. Yes, there was Saroja, but I somehow had a feeling that it would be unnecessarily hurting the feelings of Saroja because I was sure she would gladly accept if I proposed to her. I had gleaned from her ogles, sidelong glances, blushes and giggles that she had it for me, though it could well have been all in my imagination sprouting from my youthful arrogance.

Today Saroja however, was not present. Kalavati followed the professor as soon as he left the lecture hall; it was continuous effort on her part to impress upon the teachers that she was a very industrious, studious and sincere student that required her to visit the chambers of the teachers much too often with some problem or the other. Mohan had left for Gymkhana after the first lecture itself and Bhaskar had a brother visiting him the previous day and he had left for the Bus Station to see him off. All the boys had cleared the hall and I started singing “Khoobsoorat ho to ilzam-e-nazar le lena” a ghazal sung by Chandan Dass, set in Rag Hamsadhwani.

Suddenly I realized that I was not alone in the hall. Kavya was sitting with an open book on her laps but staring at me. Her eyes lit up when she realized that I had caught her gazing at me. With the brightest of her smiles she said, “You sing very well”

She wore a white salwar-kameez over which a crimson dupatta hung covering her shoulders and bosom. She’d big dark and dreamy eyes. For once I noticed that she had the fairest of complexion in our department. Unlike the other girls, she had parted her slightly wiry hair into two braids. Her forehead was wide and the bindi she wore on in was so small, it was hardly visible. The nose was narrow and straight and lips were full. One could easily have presumed that she was used to applying lipstick, for her lips had a natural shade of pink.

“How come I haven’t noticed that you are so attractive?” I said, but became apprehensive, expecting her to get angry.

She blushed and looked pleased but immediately took control of herself and said, “Is this line you always use?”

“I don’t remember to have said this to any girl in all my life. Believe me,” it was my turn to be embarrassed. I must have given that impression to all my classmates who had observed our group.

“You are interested in ghazals?” she changed the topic.

“A lot. And in music as well. Are you too?” I asked her.

She nodded, pulling her dupatta over her shoulders. “I have read Ghalib, ‘Jigar’ Morodabadi, Meer, and even Bahadur Shah ‘Zafar’“ I tried to impress her, though I had read only fragments of the works of these poets. I made all efforts to pronounce those names properly.

“How can you read them? Are you familiar with the script?” she seemed genuinely interested.

“They are available in Devanagari script, with footnotes containing meanings of difficult words”

“Are they indeed? I would like to read one myself”

“I can get you one. I have got ‘Deewan-e-Ghalib”

“Thanks. Are you waiting for the optional class?”

“Yes, I am glad I am. Otherwise I wouldn’t have noticed you!”

She blushed again and started making scratching the ground with her toe. A peon entered the hall and informed that there would be no lectures in the afternoon as the teachers would be having some meeting. “Well, then there is no need for both of us to wait,” I said leaning on the desk, closer to her. She stood up with a start, gathered her purse and looked at me expecting that I would let her go. She couldn’t go from the other end of the desk as it was blocked by the wall. A mild perfume emanated from her which I recognized as that of a rose.

“I have to leave now or I will miss the bus,” she said imploring me to move away.

“Can I come along with you to the bus stop?” I asked, moving away from the desk. She didn’t reply but favoured me with a bright smile.

As we walked towards the stairs, I could feel the eyes of some of our classmates lingering in the corridors on my back. Despite feeling a bit unsettled by that I also felt proud to be walking with her, but she looked embarrassed although I didn’t expect her to be, having grown up in Dharwad city as she was. She was at least four inches shorter than me and wasn’t wearing high heels. I tried to walk very close to her and a couple of times her shoulder brushed against my arm, sending me into a tizzy! Why am I feeling like this? I asked myself. She became conscious of proximity to me and moved a little away, sending a faint note of disappointment in me.

“You are a local girl. Aren’t you? Have you learnt music?” I asked to keep our conversation going.

“No, never had a chance. But I love music.”

“Right here in the university, you could have joined for a diploma course in music,” I suggested.

“I don’t have time for that. I am not living on the campus you know,” she said looking up towards me, “Moreover, I come from a traditional family and have to account for every minute I spend out of my house.”

“Strange, indeed very strange,” I said pouring sympathy into my voice.

“Perhaps it won’t seem so strange if you know that I am the first graduate in my family”

“Don’t have brothers?”

“Two of them. Both are into our family business. Very tough guys,” she replied. I felt she was avoiding looking into my eyes while saying so.

We crossed the large statue of Goddess Saraswati and came out of the huge door. The road that led to the bus stop from there was free of vehicles and had a beautiful garden adjoining it. The authorities were growing roses in the vast area fenced on all sides. The roses of different colours - yellow, white, pink, red, and even orange- were in full blossom. The hedges were covered with bougainvillea

of different varieties. Both of our clothes fluttered by the cool breeze and it was sheet delight to watch her try to control her dupatta. At the same time her hair too was waving and she had to brush them aside from covering her eyes.

“Isn’t this beautiful out here?” I too combed my hair with my fingers. She didn’t reply. I could understand that she had now become even more conscious of walking with me. She was looking all around and hurried towards the bus stop as though she would miss it though there was none parked there. But as soon as we reached the bus stop, a bus came to a screeching halt and she boarded it without bidding me farewell, not even looking at me. I stood there till the bus packed with passengers left and vanished from my sight, feeling cheated, and deeply hurt.

*** *** ***

Vani Creates A Scene

2011-01-17T18:16:00.001+05:30

“Is something wrong, Harsha?” Mohan must have sensed something certainly wrong.

“I'm afraid so friend. It is Vani” I tried to reply in a calm tone.

“Oh! What does she want?”

“She thinks she own me. I shouldn’t have come with you on the trip”

“Hey, come now. Nothing has happened. You will be alright. I am surprised she didn’t do this to Bhaskar.”

“She might have. How can you be sure she hasn’t?”

“Well, he would’ve told me.”

A senior professor, who was to engage our class, came out of his chambers and we had to rush into the classroom.

In spite of Mohan’s assurance that I would be alright, I was afraid it was not going to be so easy. At the back of my mind, I was thinking of something that I might tell Vani by way of explanation of my behavior. Albeit in rage I’d told her point blank that I didn’t owe an explanation to her, I wasn’t myself so sure. On the contrary, I was thinking of all sorts of explanations that could convince her and free me from the clutches of obligations to her. I couldn’t bear the thought that someone was badly hurt by my callous attitude. Hadn’t I been selfish? Of course both of us had sought and found pleasure, but I couldn’t blame her alone. I had to share the blame. I never did tell her in so many words that I loved her, but wasn’t that implied in our cultural context? I certainly had acted in such a way as to imply that I intended to have a long time relationship with her. But the reality was I wasn’t ready yet for a lifetime commitment and Vani would’ve been my last choice even if I was, in fact, ready.

Vijay was already seated and we joined him on the same bench. It was a class on political philosophy by the professor, who was as extremely erudite and eloquent and his lectures were always full of good humour. But today I felt like running away from there. Vijay was looking at me with a question as to what had happened but I couldn’t tell him anything as the lecture started immediately.

Only a few minutes into the lecture, the professor was quick to find out that something was wrong with Vani, for she had turned pale and looking as though she was nauseated. She rested her forehead on the desk which was noticed by the professor. “Is something wrong? Are you not well Miss Vani?” he asked her.

Tears flowed down her cheeks and she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes but didn’t reply. My feet went cold and my heart began to pound furiously out of fear that now I would be caught, if he seriously investigated into what had gone wrong. I was sure though that Vani couldn’t tell anything in the open class, but I was not that sure she would remain equally tightlipped if the professor summoned her to his chambers and made enquiries. I could visualize the enquiry, Vani sobbing and keeping her head down, I being summoned, then parents being informed and I losing all my dignity, pride and …

“I am all right sir, I was just feeling some giddiness,” at last Vani replied trying to stand up and wincing with pain.

“No, you need not stand up. If you are not well, you may go back to the hostel and take rest. One of the girls will escort you,” the professor said in a kind voice.

Vani was still holding her forehead with her right hand and didn’t reply, but Nirupama talked to her something in whisper and then said aloud, “I will take her to the health centre sir.”

The professor nodded and continued with his discourse, much to my relief. He must have thought that it was the usual monthly bad days for Vani. I watched Vani and Nirupama till they left the classroom, all the way feeling that at least a few of the students must be staring at me accusingly.

“It is all bloody drama, Harsha,” Vijay whispered to reassure me, but the professor observed his doing so and asked him, “Do you too want to go to health center?” There were giggles all around till the professor said stiffly, “That’s enough!”

I sincerely hoped that it was play acted by Vani in order to gain my sympathies, yet I was finding it hard to believe just the same. I wanted to get out into fresh air but now for another forty-five minutes it was impossible to do so. I couldn’t close my eyes and try to calm myself for the fear that the professor might think I was dozing. To try and understand what the professor was saying was out of question but I was obligated to pretend concentrating. The world is full of pretense, I thought, everyone was pretending all the time.

“Life is poor, short, nasty, brutish and short in the State of Nature according to Hobbes. Poor because..” the professor was explaining the Hobbesian Theory of Contract. A thought came to my mind that even in the civilized state, life is not much different! In hind sight, it all looks so ludicrous. “Fear and self-preservation are the dominant emotions in human nature” I couldn’t understand in what context the professor was saying this, but certainly it must have been Hobbes’ idea of human nature. True, I said to myself, how true!

After what seemed to be an eternity, the lecture was over and I was relieved as though I had been through an ordeal. The moment we climbed down the stairs and reached a safe distance from our department so that nobody could see us, Mohan and I lit cigarettes. The nicotine rushing through the blood, instead of relaxing my mind, gave a sudden kick as to nauseate me. I wanted to sit down but we were standing under the dappled shade of a gulmohar tree.

Watching us smoke, Vijay might have felt the urge too. He relived me of my cigarette and began smoking. Mohan laughed observing Vijay’s novice way of smoking and said, “Mama, you are not taking even a puff into your lungs. You are simply wasting the cigarette.”

“I know,” Vijay said defiantly, “I am doing it deliberately.”

A breeze of cool wind that caressed my face and fluttered my shirt, made me feel better. At the very moment I saw Vani and Nirupama coming; perhaps they were returning from the health center. “Look,” I said, “Vani seems perfectly all right!”

All were looking at them now. “Who said she was not well, Harsha?” Mohan inhaled deeply, “She just wanted have your attention.”

“By creating a scene!” Vijay added sarcastically.

We remained silent till Nirupama and Vani approached us; while Vani kept going as though she had not noticed us, Nirupama came to Mohan who met her half way and talked to her under his breath. After exchanging only a couple of words he came to us and Nirupama joined Vani.

“She is perfectly alright, nothing to worry,” he announced.

“As expected,” Vijay rejoined, “Let’s get back to the hostel friends” he spoke my mind.

I let out a relief; all the same I was not actually totally relieved. I had to still find a pretext as to why I would not be Vani’s boyfriend. As we entered the botanical gardens through the turnstile, an idea came to my mind. The botanical gardens seemed darker than they always did, though it was only a couple of hours after mid day.

&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&

The Aftermath

2011-01-07T17:31:00.000+05:30

Though I didn’t want to attach any significance to what Vijay had told me, it still impelled me to search my mind a bit because I always really liked knowing what I was going to do instead of doing it first and wondering why I’d done it afterwards, or until then that was what I thought of myself. I wanted to put everything behind and move forward, but the thought that I had put my neck into the lasso thrown by Vani kept nagging me. I tried very hard but found no reason whatsoever not to believe what Vijay had told me. Had Mohan, who had lured me into going for this adventure, also been a part of the conspiracy, I couldn’t be sure, nor could I ask him, for I was in the danger of incurring his displeasure if that had not been so. But I couldn’t fault Mohan, neither then, not later, nor even now. I took comfort in believing what I liked to believe, that he too had been hoodwinked.

On another front, some coldness had steeped into the relations between Bhaskar and Mohan, which I guessed was because of Bhaskar’s envy, his disapproval of Mohan choosing to take me on the tour and what was more important, without even caring to tell Bhaskar why he had done so. Neither had kept any secret from the other, at least as far as I know, till then. Mohan didn’t seem to have done it deliberately, for he must have been goaded to keep Bhaskar out of it, was my convenient guess. It troubled me too, that I had been secretly delighted by the chasm between the old friends, although it also simultaneously pleased me that at last I had been able to pierce their close friendship. I had not been able to forgive them for ignoring me on so many occasions early on. Now both were close to me, but they had drifted apart from each other. It all sounds silly and frivolous now but back then, it had been so important to me!

Fortunately, the teachers had not got the wind of what had all happened in our group and life went on as always, until something happened.

I began to meticulously avoid talking to Vani and evade the daily trip to the canteen with the group. Mohan too seemed to be busy with the political elite of the university. There was a group consisting of the General Secretary and other officer-bearers of the gymkhana, who along with a big crowd of followers were spending too much of time in the Gymkhana building where a room had been provided officially to the GS. They would play shuttle, bunk classes, play cards with stakes in terms of money, wander on bikes all the time in the city. Mohan was soon immersed in all these useless pursuits so much so that he hardly returned to his room even in the evening. He moved most of his belongings to the Gymkhana building and was hardly seen with any of us on the campus. Bhaskar tried to follow him and be a part of that group, but I had the least idea why he didn’t succeed.

I’d got a new partner in Pavan, along with Vijay for my daily trips to the city for drinks and dinner. Those times must have been really very hard on Bhaskar, though he never showed it. He made all efforts to seem happy in the company of Suresh and Virupakshappa in the hostel, making jokes, reading newspapers holding either a cigarette or a cup of tea in one hand, telling things that had happened only in his fantasies, mostly the politics of his native place and frequenting to his friends from his undergraduate days. But we all did meet in the department where we gathered to attend lectures.

As usual, Vijay and I used to sit right behind the girls in the classroom. Vani, who always sat on the first bench, had begun to sit in the last row of the girls, just in front of us. She kept looking back at me and try to talk to me so often that one of the teachers noticed it and reprimanded her and advised her as well to be attentive in the class. It was too embarrassing to me to put up with and I suggested to Vijay that we sat somewhere else.

The day we changed our place and sat in the last row of the boys, Vani was obviously offended and her face fell. Nirupama, sitting by her side tried to talk to her and take her mind off me, which I could easily observe and understand. I knew that something was wrong. When that lecture was over, Vijay and I walked out of the classroom and stood in the balcony leaning on the parapet, gazing at the tall palm trees. We had another five minutes before the next lecture began. Had the gap between two lectures been more, I would have preferred to go out of the building to have a fag.

“Why are you doing like this?” I was startled to hear the voice from behind my back and turned to find Vani standing, with red eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?” She repeated the question.

“What am I doing?” I asked evasively.

“Don’t you know what you are doing? You do know very well that you have been avoiding me as though I am a stranger to you.”

Before I could answer Vijay excused himself and walked away.

“Vani, you are creating a bloody scene here. What have I done?”

“I am not creating any scene here. I am just asking a simple question. I need an explanation. Have I done anything to offend you?”

Now I had begun to lose my temper. “Do you own me? I don’t need to explain anything to anybody, ok?”

She looked stunned at my response and stood still for a while.

“You mean you don’t love me?” Her voice was now only a shade higher than a whisper.

“Don’t be absurd. Did I ever tell you that I loved you?”

“Then, then why did you…” she couldn’t complete the sentence. “You love someone else?” at last she managed to ask.

“I don’t think that is any of your business Vani. Please behave yourself,” my tone was still testy. I was angry but not at her, but at me myself, for having thrown myself in such a situation.

She stood considering my reply for a moment. It was not more than a minute, but, to this day, it was one of the longest of my life. Seconds seemed to be separated from each other by what seemed an eternity. I could hear my heart thumping wildly. Her cheeks grew red; she glared at me with anger, anguish and disappointment. “Don’t I mean anything to you?” she asked at last, without expecting any reasonable answer from me.

I was now very conscious of my surroundings. I was in the balcony before my department, most of my classmates, and maybe a couple of teachers watching me with interest. I decided not to say anything. As luck would have it, Mohan approached us and favoured me with smile. He was absent in the first lecture and was just returning, perhaps from the Gymkhana, after a game of badminton. It was an immense relief to see him.

“Hey Mohan! Where had you been man?” I deliberately moved away from Vani turning my back towards her. I hoped Mohan wouldn’t start a conversation with her. I could sense Vani moving away and going into the classroom.

@*@*@*@&*@

Vijay Forewarns

2010-12-17T11:57:00.001+05:30

When I reached my room I found that the door was not latched and I entered without making any noise. Vijay was asleep, snoring lightly. I felt like talking to him badly. As I shook him awake, he sat upright with a start, and on finding that it was me, relaxed, rubbed his eyes and stretched his limbs. “God, it is you! Where the hell had you been?” he asked.

“I will tell you everything. But first tell me why are you sleeping keeping the door open?” I asked him a question in reply. It was not that I was worried about keeping the door unbolted while sleeping, for I knew for sure there was hardly a thing to be stolen and whatever were stolen in the hostel were lifted through the window using a hook at night. I was embarrassed to face him, ridden with guilt as I was. He never kept any secrets from me and I had deceived him by concealing something I knew before I left for that unforgettable trip. Without knowing myself for sure, I had insinuated that I was going on a date and it indeed had turned out to be a date, nay, a honeymoon of sorts. I needed some time to organize my thoughts and decide what to tell him and how.

“I had been for jogging with Bhaskar and Suresh. When I came back, I was tired and drifted into sleep.”

“Surprise! Surprise! You guys have started jogging? That’s very nice! But don’t you feel you are too old for jogging? It’s enough if you just walk a couple miles!” I teased him.

“So you have joined the other buffoons who tease me on my age?” he said without minding my jive and got up from the bed. I lit a cigarette without offering him one, knowing well that he didn’t smoke. But he surprised me by asking for one.

“Mama, while I was away, you have grown up!” I teased him, lighting his cigarette. He inhaled and coughed; his eyes were filled with water.

“My dear brother, I used to smoke earlier. You keep forgetting that I have been the headmaster of the school in which you are a student,” he tried to joke.

“Yes, it shows!” I snapped.

“I’ve found out that cigarettes help in concentrating on what I read,” he tried to explain. I nodded without agreeing with him.

“Well, what’s your story? You’ve been away for three days. So was Mohan. Even Nirupama and Vani had gone missing. I already know part of the story,” he said looking into my eyes.

“Ah! Anybody can put two and two together and arrive at a wrong conclusion!”

“True, but there was no chance of arriving at a wrong conclusion in this case! But in this case two and two were definitely put together!” I couldn’t but smile at his attempt at making a pun.

“Mama, I didn’t know where I was going the day Mohan asked me to meet him at the bus stop. Nor did I know that the girls were coming too. It was totally unexpected. First they said we’d been invited by Saroja to her house. We did go to her house. But later they took me to Jog Falls,” I tried to give him a watered down version, “That’s why I couldn’t tell you where I was going.”

“You need not be apologetic Harsha. But tell me in detail what happened. I am really curious to know.”

Now I knew that he couldn’t be so easily satisfied, that I could not stave him off lightly, that he could easily make out what I wouldn’t tell him and above all Mohan was going to tell everybody anyway. When Mohan gave his version, which he usually did when he was high on liquor, it would all be a mixture of facts and fiction, colourful and humourous. It was better that I told about me myself rather than letting Mohan do it. I narrated every detail to Vijay taking care to skip erotic and sensual portions, which he would anyway imagine the way he liked. He heard everything with utmost interest and rapt attention, asking questions wherever he required clarifications or more details and seemed to enjoy every bit of it.

“What do you say? In all this I was an unwilling partner and I want to take it off my mind as soon as possible,” I said at the end.

He threw the butt of the cigarette out of the window and smiled, “Harsha, you have played into her hands”

“Whose hands?”

“Dear, you may be well aware that the girls in the ladies’ hostel often used to discuss about you and you are generally considered not easily accessible. Vani boasted always that you are one of her closest friends and had challenged a couple of girls that she would conquer you, vanquish you and make you dance to her tune, or to use her own words, “to take you in” in just under a week.”

“What? I can’t believe girls would talk like this. Where did you hear this?”

“Wrong question. Instead the question should have been ‘why didn’t you warn me’”

“That would have followed. But who told you this?”

“I heard it from a girl from my place, who stays in the same hostel. I didn’t tell it to you for I didn’t myself believe it and I thought it was just a gossip, worthless and trifle.’”

“Would you believe that the girls can talk about the boys the way you describe Vani talking about me?”

“Maybe all girls won’t talk. But I am talking about Vani and the likes of her” I could feel the contempt in his tone.

“Alright. It means I have made a fool of myself. Doesn’t it?”

“It also means she was right about her prowess.”

“You know, there is an old saying that whether the thorn touches the flower or the flower touches the thorn, only the flower is going to be torn.”

“As long as she is a flower and you are a thorn, it doesn’t matter,” he said feelingly, “but if it turns out to be the other way round…” He deliberately left the sentence incomplete.

He was suggesting that she may turn out to be a thorn in my side. It may sound absurd to those of the present generation, born and brought up in the age of hundreds of TV channels, mobile and internet; but during those times when traditions had not diluted and the values had not eroded, whether they were right or wrong, mattered a lot. They were deeply ingrained in the whole generation of youths like me. We could be easily branded as male chauvinist pigs. In my case it wasn’t exactly a battle between tradition and modernity, but a deeply emotional matter concerning all the dreams that lived in my young heart and oozed from my eyes.

“It may not turn out to be as bad as you make it to be,” I said, trying to brush aside his portentous statement.

“I sincerely hope so, dear. I do sincerely hope so!” he replied grimly.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

Coming back...

2010-12-09T18:54:00.000+05:30

I am suddenly catapulted to the present as the waiter clears the plate deliberately making noise as if to remind me that I had already paid the bill and I must make space for others. I look around and find that there are still a very few customers. I call the waiter back and order another drink. He seems to be used to customers like me for he gives a bored expression trying to avoid looking at me and turns away to bring my order shouting something at a fellow waiter.

As I lift my cell phone to know the time, it starts ringing. I press answer and say ‘Harsha’ instead of ‘hello’.

“I know you are somewhere in Hubli. Aren’t you?” I hear the familiar voice of Pavan. How does he know that I am here? I am puzzled but regret that I cannot lie to him. He is sure to have called Bhaskar, who knew that Nirupama was coming to meet me. Bhaskar has always had this weakness of telling others that he is the securest repository of secrets but always letting all the secrets out, more often than not after adding sufficient masala of his own.

“Yes. I was about to call you. Are you free?”

“Always free for you. Where are you?”

I give him my location. “That’s very good. I am hardly half a kilometer from the hotel. Wait for me,” he says before disconnecting.

Yes, those were the three days that made me what I am today I almost say it aloud but feeling embarrassed I look around to see if anyone is watching me talk to myself. I find nobody is looking. Why anyone would care? I start brooding again. Not all the three days, but the moment when I exploded was what made me what I am today. Could it have been different? Only if I had refused to follow Mohan, only if I had a stronger will to say no, only if… It released the Satan in me, or did it? Greed, lust, wrath, ego, envy were all inherent in my personality, however suppressed by the veneer of values and culture they might have been. In fact I could find these very things in Mohan, Bhaskar, Pavan and a host other friends that I made during my stay on the campus, the only difference being I was more conscious of these qualities, or rather vices as I was wont to ascribe them. But I was still neither better nor more mature than the members of the group into which I was drawn, like a shred of straw is into the vortex of a typhoon.

The last night of the tour was the breaking point in my story, thereafter something changed so fundamentally deep inside me, that even today I am unable to comprehend what it was.

The waiter comes and places my drink on the table. I remember that Pavan is coming and I will have to drink with him too. So I must slow down. I decide against taking a swish and start looking at the entrance. He arrives on a bike, spots me immediately even before he parks it and waves enthusiastically at me. I try to remember how he looked during the campus days and find it too difficult. He must have gained at least a dozen kilos of weight, mostly in the form of fat deposited on his paunch that now protruded pushing his trousers down. He still wears dark glasses that used to be fashionable back then, but now he wears then only while riding his bike. He looks around the whole place before entering, like a college student entering a bar stealthily. It irritates me every time my friends do this, as if they were committing a crime entering the premises where liquor or non vegetarian food is served, though those they are trying to avoid would be in some other bar going through the same ritual!

I wanted to be left alone today but it was not to be so. Instead of coming straight to me, Pavan goes to the washroom. I know this too is a ritual with him. He would take at least quarter of an hour to have a leak, wash his hands thoroughly, then wash his face, wipe it clean with his handkerchief, neatly fold and keep it back in his trouser pocket and draw a comb… and so on!

Unable to resist the temptation to take a swig of my drink, I pour soda water into the whiskey and take a big sip. It indeed was my lowest point, I remember those moments when I lowered my guard and became what I am today…

A Glimmer of Hope

2010-12-06T17:16:00.001+05:30

I was getting impatient to get back to my room in the hostel and lie down calmly so long as I liked to, but others seemed like they never wanted to return. I remembered that for the last couple of days I hadn’t eaten properly but surprisingly it had affected me in the least. Mohan and Nirupama could eat anything anywhere and still relish it and Vani enjoyed starving herself, or so it seemed to Mohan who kept jeering at her saying that it was all affectation. She according to him was eating so little to impress us the boys that she was too delicate. As to me, I was in no mood for banter and I didn’t bother about anyone right now, least of all Vani. My thoughts kept wandering to all the lectures that I had missed, all the comfort of my cozy room, the evening swigs of drinks with Vijay, my translation sessions with Hiremath, the part-read novel by Shivaram Karanth that was lay on the table and my ambles through the botanical gardens.

When we reached Dharwad it was just after seven in the evening and darkness was descending fast. We got down at the court and I felt immensely happy smelling the familiar air thick with the aroma of mirchi bhaji, a popular snack of the evening. But I was puzzled when Mohan called a rickshaw and huddled all of us inside. I was sandwiched between Vani and Nirupama while Mohan sat on the edge with part of his body hanging out of rickshaw. I felt most of Nirupama’s bosom touching my shoulder and arm and quickly forgot Vani too clinging to me! But the pleasure was going to be mine only for about five minutes, for the rickshaw came to a grinding halt opposite a three storied hotel building on a narrow lane. Mohan entered the hotel and went to the counter while we waited out.

“Why have we come here?” I asked Nirupama.

“Because we cannot go back to our hostel after seven in the evening.”

That meant I was doomed to spend another night in the hotel with Vani! I tried to hide my disappointment looking away from the girls. Presently Mohan came out of the hotel and called me to have a private talk. I walked to him warily, expecting some trouble. “Harsha, we have to stay in this hotel for the girls can’t go back tonight. The problem is I am, in fact the girls are running short of money. How much do you have?”

I gave him whatever money I had but I knew it was still not sufficient. “I told you right in the beginning that I hadn’t brought money Mohan, I have less than hundred rupees, not even sufficient for the drinks and dinner at our usual place,” I said by way of explanation though there was no need for it.

“I know Harsha. You guys stay occupy the rooms and I will fetch money from the hostel,” he replied and signalled the girls to follow him. All my hopes that he would decide against staying in the hotel came down crashing.

The rooms that were opened for us were under the stairs beside the reception counter. I observed that men after men kept coming accompanied by women, paid cash at the counter, collected the keys and went upstairs. In most cases, women seemed to be leading the men and obviously the receptionist knew them well. Not a word was exchanged between the customers and the receptionist, nor was any entry made in the register of occupants. Although this was all a bit weird and eerie to me, and shocking to my sensibilities too, I understood in a flash what was all this about and hoped that the girls wouldn’t see it and tried to obstruct their view. Mohan observed it and gave me a knowing wink and a ‘don’t worry’ assurance smile. No sooner had we entered one of the rooms than he left hurriedly.

Nirupama sat with us till Mohan arrived in a few minutes less than an hour, carrying two big bulging polythene bags, obviously containing liquor and food reminding me that I had been starving and my craving for the drink had also set in. This was the third night in a row that I was spending away from my hostel, without any information to my parents and however much I tried; I couldn’t keep this thought coming to my mind. What ashamed me even more was my bother of yet another possibility of failure.

“You know what some guys were talking outside?” Mohan whispered to me, “They were saying that they have spotted two new birds!” he giggled.

“What are you two whispering?” Nirupama objected with a raised brow, “No private talk when you are in a group.”

“This concerns only men,” Mohan winked.

Observing Mohan pouring two glasses of whiskey that he had brought, Nirupama asked, “What about this?”

“This too concerns only men,” I replied and Mohan nodded in affirmation. I had gathered that he didn’t like Nirupama drinking.

Dharwad then was a small city and it was quite possible that men who had seen the girls in the hotel might come across them again somewhere. It bothered me but the girls didn’t seem to be concerned at all. I took a swish of whiskey and winced as it tasted very bitter, for in a hurry to get over with dinner, Mohan had not diluted it much.

“Where did you get the money from?” I asked Mohan in a whisper. I knew that he couldn’t get much from the friends.

“The mess contractor,” Mohan replied with a victorious smile. “Just as I got down at the bus stop, I saw him.”

*** **

I couldn’t help myself hoping that Mohan would ask me to go to the other room where Nirupama would be staying, though I had realized that I was hoping against hope but Mohan and Nirupama promptly walked away after dinner, with Nirupama saying, “Have a good one!” with a wink, before she followed Mohan. I cursed her silently for being so impervious to my feelings. I craved for another drink but whatever little Mohan could bring, we had gulped down in hurry and the hotel we were staying in, had neither a bar nor a restaurant of its own. Then where was the money to get the drink?

I lay on one of beds listening to the voices from the counter. The flow of customers, instead of ebbing, had increased twofold. I was sure the same women kept coming back with new customers. It was abominating thought. Presently Vani came out of bathroom wearing the same night gown and instead of proceeding to the other bed, came straight to me, and inclined to kiss me. I allowed her to kiss me but it broke my belief that only men take initiative in such things. I really wonder what a fool I had been back then, though some may prefer calling it innocence. I used to believe that everything was done only by boys, and the girls didn’t like love-making, in fact, they considered it blasphemous. It was an unclean act, unholy, dirty for the girls who were angels and who were virtuous, pure and beautiful but boys being boys, enjoyed it. Why, I couldn’t tell!

“Vani, you better go to your bed. You know I do not have protection today,” I said trying to evade her. She understood that I was too shy to use the word ‘condom’

She laughed heartily and asked, “You mean Nirodh?”

All were familiar with the word ‘Nirodh’ back then because of the government family planning advertisements that ran in the cinema houses. I didn’t reply.

“I am grown up enough to know that by kissing and fondling I can’t get pregnant” she said and laughed even louder.

“Shsh..” I said in a whisper, “Remember this is a hotel, not your hostel. Moreover I cannot stop just at kissing.”

“I know you can’t do anything anyway” she teased me but I was offended.

“Don’t jump to conclusions. You don’t know what I am capable of!” I said testily.

“Yes. I want to know what you are capable of. Please…” she persisted.

I tried to push her out of my bed but she clung to me hard.

This went on for such a long time that I began running out of my patience. At last I told her, “I am going to remove all my clothes. Then I will see how you can continue to stay in my bed.”

“No, please don’t do that.” She didn’t look she believed me. But she held both my hands trying to prevent me from reaching my clothes. With a jerk I could free my hands and took away all my t-shirt. But she still hugged me tightly and said, “No problem even if you aren’t wearing anything!”

“But now it is your turn. If you do not return to your bed, I am going to tear your clothes. Don’t blame me later for anything!” She still didn’t budge. Till then I had not realized how powerful she was though she looked fragile. She could resist my attempts at undressing her for not less than an hour and later I was presented with another problem of getting her cooperation. It must have been four in the morning when I overcame all the resistance and penetrated her and dissolved into a blissful exhaustion. All of a sudden, a fear might have gripped her, for she immediately rushed to the bathroom. Before she returned I had drifted into sleep.

By six in the morning, Mohan came knocking at the doors and before anyone could notice us, we took off to the campus.

Another Escape! Part II

2010-11-03T17:45:00.000+05:30

I slept like a log till late in the morning when I heard Mohan calling me, as though in a dream. When I opened my eyes he was sitting on the edge of my bed and goading me to get up. Rubbing my eyes, I asked him what time it was. “All of us are ready. The girls are in the other room. Heard you were sick last night?”

“Hmm”

“Are you alright now?”

“Yep,” I pursed my lips and replied, “I think so,” unsure of it myself. Although my head was clear, my stomach was aching. “I think it was due to hyper acidity,” I said, trying to preempt his platitudinous admonition that I was sure, would come. He understood it and smiled.

I rushed to the bathroom, thinking that the cramps in my stomach were more preferable to another romantic confrontation with Vani.

I came out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around my waist and was embarrassed to find both the girls sitting with Mohan. The breakfast of Masala Dosa had been delivered and they were eating. As aroma of dosa kept reminding me that I was starving, I quickly dressed up and joined them. I was wearing the same t-shirt that I wore the previous day since there was no other change of clothes left for me and was feeling as if I hadn’t bathed yet. As soon as I reach the hostel, I can take a good hot water bath and wear clean clothes, I consoled my self. It I didn’t know that Mohan and the girls had a different idea, or rather plan for the day.

I volunteered to pay the bill for lodging when we vacated the hotel and as we walked out of the hotel, Mohan said, “Thank you Harsha, we were running out of cash!” I couldn’t say it was my pleasure but said, “Anyway, we are going back to Dharwad now”

“No dear, originally we’d planned to go to Banavasi from Sirsi, but unfortunately we had to come here skipping it on the way. The girls want to go back and visit Banavasi today,” he said holding my hand while crossing the road as though I was a child under his protection. He did behave like my elder brother and I enjoyed it. I’d been leaving every decision to him since we left Dharwad.

“You mean we’ll be going back to Sirsi?” I asked him with alarm. Back then I didn’t know where Banavasi was. I had read that it was the capital city of the Kadambas who ruled in the fourth or fifth or century A.D. I also knew that the great Kannada poet Pampa, known as Adikavi or the first poet, had eulogized it effusively in one of his work. Any other time, I would’ve jumped at the opportunity to visit the place, but this trip was already coming on my nerves.

He laughed and replied, “No dost, we don’t need to go all the way back to Sirsi, only a few kilometers back on the road to Sirsi,” as though it were some consolation. I tried to think of some way to protest and urge him to take us to Dharwad as soon as possible, but I couldn’t say anything. Indeed, I thought, I had allowed myself to be treated as a young brat by Mohan.

Despite my unwillingness, and the continual irritation of Vani unnecessarily clinging to me as if now she owned me, I soon forgot all about it the moment the bus left for Banavasi, taking us through the rich greenery under the now clear blue sky. The perception as to why were the poets inspired so much by of nature was gradually sinking in me. The nature had unspoilt beauty, free, pure, simple, touching, appealing, mysterious, bold, and wonderful – all at the same time. I kept gazing through the window ignoring Vani reclining on my shoulders, and the other passengers staring at us.

‘Only a few kilometers’ turned out to be almost as good or bad as going back to Sirsi! I do not remember how long it took us to reach Banavasi, but I do remember vividly that I saw a small gopura of an ancient stone temple sprawling on lush green lawns, the first thing I got down from the bus. Banavasi was a small village then, the red mud road less than a hundred meters leading to the temple being the main road of the village, as I could perceive at that time. There were a couple of shops made of wooden poles covered with tarpaulin to form a roof and a couple of tables joined together to make a counter over which sachets of chips, wafers, biscuits, pan masala etc were hung on a thin nylon rope tied horizontally. A few paces from the shops was a man selling tender coconuts. But for a couple of other tourists, the whole place was deserted.

Though it was an ancient temple, but still puja was being performed there. I was the first to approach the entrance of the temple and read the dark blue board declaring that the temple was a protected monument, by the Archaeological Survey of India. An elderly couple with a boy who looked to be their grandson was curiously watching us.

We wandered in and around the 9^th Century temple of Madhukeshwara, or the Lord Shiva. The stone elephants at the entrance were elegantly lifelike. A stone temple with the roof sliding outwards was indeed a beautiful sight. I wondered if the sliding roof was placed to drain out the rainwater, for the region is known for heavy rains during the monsoons. We went on scanning each pillar, the ornate carvings on those pillars and ceiling and kept marveling at the genius of the people who conceived and constructed it.

Since all that was to see in Banavasi was only the Madhukeshwara temple, we spent well over an hour there, the last half just sitting and chatting. A busload of college students, all boys, came all of a sudden and began to make a lot of noise. The moment they saw that two obviously unmarried, young couples were sitting, their raucous exchanges suddenly raised twofold. Some boys deliberately wandered near us a couple of times, making lewd remarks and gestures. A couple of teachers who were accompanying them tried to huddle them together in vain. This was all so irritating and offensive that I couldn’t help telling Mohan that it was better we left the place. As we came out of the temple complex, we could hear a lot of hooting and booing behind us. “Bastards!” Mohan cursed them under his breath.

A man with a bicycle loaded with bunches of tender coconut was looking at us with hope to get customers. The girls didn’t disappoint him; we walked straight to the vendor and Mohan ordered tender coconut water for all of us. “I don’t want,” I said to Mohan but he brushed it aside saying, “You of all need it more,” and by the look in his eyes I knew that he was alluding to my getting sick and vomiting the previous night. “The coconut water will help regain your strength boy,” he added and left for the nearest shop, obviously to buy cigarettes.

“I don’t think it was worth coming all the way back from Mundgod,” I said as after making some enquiries, and finding out that tourists usually would like to spend time at the riverside, we were heading towards the river.

“Yeah, apart from the temple, there is hardly any thing to see here,” Vani rejoined as though trying to please me.

“I too didn’t know it Harsha,” Mohan exhaled smoke and said, “Anyway, aren’t we enjoying another holiday?”

“And aren’t you enjoying additional nights?” Nirupama winked at me. It seemed that she never failed to shock me by saying things that even the boys would hesitate to utter, especially or at least, in the presence of girls. At such times I really hated her and at the same time I wanted her even more. Vani was watching me closely, perhaps expecting me to say something, but when I didn’t respond, she blurted out, “Of course he didn’t enjoy last night”.

Nirupama certainly knew about the previous night, for she said, “Look at Mohan, he’s not even eating more in the evening to keep himself light!”

I hated the whole conversation as it looked very degenerate to me. Mohan glanced at me but couldn’t understand how I felt. He said, “We should have brought Saroja along”

“Boys would remain boys for ever!” Nirupama feigned anger, “Are you ever satisfied with one girl?” It wasn’t a question. Relieved that the conversation was drifting away from me, I joined Mohan, “Well, bringing her along would have been wonderful!”

“Oho, then we should’ve invited Bhaskar also!” Vani quipped but bit her tongue immediately, thinking perhaps that she shouldn’t have said that. While Mohan and Nirupama didn’t take this seriously, I felt it was directed at me, at my failure. The conversation was again veering towards me. I remembered Vani’s version of her encounter with Bhaskar in Raichur, which I wanted to believe, but Bhaskar sounded more and more convincing to me, the more I thought about it. Why had Mohan chosen to bring me along instead of Bhaskar? Was it Vani who had asked him to do so? There hadn’t been even so much as a small difference of opinion between Mohan and Bhaskar as far as I knew, but still deviating from his usual preference, Mohan had brought me on this trip. Without questioning as to his intent, or that of Vani or Nirupama, I’d grabbed the opportunity with both my hands and had placed myself at the disposal of Mohan against all my hauteur, gut feeling, and will. Will? No, I did like his invitation, at first because I liked to be closer to Mohan than Bhaskar was, and then because of Nirupama whom Mohan had held as a carrot before my greedy eyes. Or was it all about just pleasure? If that were so why was I not able to have it? Questions came rushing to my mind and I didn’t here what they were talking now.

It was a small river with muddy water flowing at a fast pace charged with the recent rains and the water enveloped most of its sandy banks. The sky was clear and sun was shining brightly, yet the weather was cool and pleasant. We sat under the dappled shade of a tree, on the soft cushion created by the growth of grass. Mohan was teasing Nirupama about something and Vani was taking side with Nirupama. I lit a cigarette though something in the pit of my stomach told me not to, and began gazing at the lofty trees that looked like reaching the heavens.

I began to wonder at the strange world I had entered into. I had a dream, the result of my upbringing, of long and delightful years spent with romantic novels, poetry, and stories, and shaped by movies both Hindi and Kannada, by the lofty ideas and ideals that had been ingrained in me by the sum total of all I had heard, read or experienced, and it now seemed like it was going to be shattered to pieces. Is this the real world? Are the hallmarks of youth - the wide-eyed innocence, the ambition to make a mark, to change the world and to conquer the world –to vanish into thin air in the face of these realities? I certainly must be in a wrong company. The things that used to trouble me surfaced again, but as always, I was finally able to shrug them off.

It was already midday. But it seemed that nobody even so much as thought about lunch. “Isn’t this a beautiful place?” Nirupama asked Mohan but continued before he could respond, “I would like to have my home in such a place, a small house with a garden full of flowers all around it”

Mohan laughed. “I can build you a bamboo house in no time. Then you can live like forest tribes here. You are from a town, you don’t know the hardships of the people living here.”

“How unromantic!” Nirupama exclaimed.

“My village is located in Malnad area, as you know. It is in fact more beautiful than this place. But my father was lucky to escape to a city since he got a job. He had to walk at least five miles to attend a high school. He used to dread the vacations for he was supposed to work in the paddy fields during holidays. We still have our ancestral house there. It is romantic only to the townspeople.”

“You can go there for your honeymoon,” Vani suggested.

“What do you think we are doing now?” Mohan asked unabashedly. Nirupama blushed and began scratching the ground with a twig fallen from the tree. Vani simply said, “You are shameless”. Mohan laughed out loud.

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

Another Escape!

2010-10-26T13:41:00.000+05:30

The bus was thankfully not crowded and I was happy that we were going back, relieved that there wouldn’t be another unpleasant encounter with Vani, and I got my favourite window seat in the two-seat row. Vani occupied the aisle seat and Mohan sat with Nirupama in the row immediately next in front of us. The sun had already set and the sky had become dark gray. Vani sat silently as though she’d been shocked by the way we’d been asked to leave the hotel. Mohan looked unaffected but there was a hint of disappointment on his face. He purchased tickets to Hubli for all of us and leaned his head on the backrest. I understood that he was in no mood for conversation.

When the bus exited the town, either side of the road was covered with thick growth of trees, shrubs, and grass; in between patches of lands had been lined with coconut trees and areca nut trees which the creepers of betel leaves and cardamom had entwined. In the sky the silhouette of birds returning home could be seen. I too felt like a bird returning to the safety of my home.

In less than a quarter of an hour, it turned pitch dark outside. The nightfall was quickened due to the thick woods and soon the lights inside the bus were switched off. There was nothing to see through the window but the weak light from the headlights of the bus that reflected from the asphalted road and bleakly illuminated the vegetation by the roadside. My eyelids were getting heavy and I was too exhausted to resist sleep.

It must be around nine o’ clock when we reached Mundgod, a small town known for the Tibetan refugee camp. The conductor announced that the bus would stop for dinner. Mohan rose from his seat and patted on my shoulder, beckoning to follow him. My eyes were still drowsy with sleep. The restaurant was small and over-crowded. Mohan and I lit cigarettes and looking at the crowd, watching the restaurant, Mohan said, “We won’t be able to get a table all for us in the hotel. The girls can’t have dinner here,” I was neither hungry nor bothered about the girls now. He thought for a while and said, “Give me a minute, I will see what can be done” and walked to the cash counter of the hotel.

I saw him talking to the person at the cash counter who looked like he didn’t like to lift his head from the vouchers he was writing. He was fair skinned, as tall as Mohan and clean-shaven. He wore a white bush-shirt over his equally white panche. After some time Mohan seemed to have succeeded in getting his attention and now he talked to Mohan gesturing upstairs. I thought there might be another dining hall upstairs. Soon Mohan returned but walked to the window of the bus to talk to Nirupama and only thereafter he came to me and announced, “Come on Harsha, we are going upstairs”

The girls soon joined us behind the half pulled up sliding shutters, at the landing to the upstairs where earlier I had found a waiter standing with a key in his hands. When we reached upstairs, I found about a dozen rooms lined up along the balcony. Now I understood that it was not the dining hall that Mohan had been after, but rooms to stay overnight. My heart began to sink realizing that I had to spend another night with Vani, but at the same time I also had a glimmer of hope that Mohan would let me stay with Nirupama as he’d promised me at the beginning of the trip.

Mohan was talking to the waiter a few paces away and gave him some money. As the waiter started climbing down the stairs, he shouted, “Make if fast Maani!”

“We’ve been very lucky Harsha, the manager of the hotel didn’t ask too many questions and gave us the rooms,” Mohan said in a soft tone as he approached me.

“But we’d tickets to Hubli”

“Oh, not a great deal for the girls dear,” he touched my shoulder suggesting that we go into the room. Both the girls were sitting in one room obviously waiting for us. The lodge had been recently constructed and the room was small, barely eight by ten, furnished with two steel cots placed apart and old styled chairs and table made of ordinary jungle wood. The sheets were clean and so was the bathroom.

The waiter returned with a half bottle of Hercules Rum, Rotis, a bowl of Dal Fry, fried chips and plates and glasses – all cluttered on a tray and placed it on the wooden table. It was the repeat of the previous evening, Mohan and Nirupama being too eager to go to their room. In trying to keep up pace with them, I drank too fast and got strong kicks equally quickly. I had to slow down with the result that when Nirupama and Mohan left the room, I was still drinking.

Vani had finished her dinner of just half a Roti and was already lying on the bed. However, she had not talked of joining the two cots and she looked very tired. I went on drinking till I emptied the bottle. I was afraid to go near her though watching her voluptuous chest rise and fall, a burning desire had crept into me and was relieved that I had a separate cot. I removed all my clothes, killed the lights and lied on my bed. I felt as though every thing around me was revolving and I knew at once that I was sick. I didn’t whether Vani was asleep or not but wouldn’t dare raise her. Nausea set in and I struggled for nearly half an hour to resist retching, but failed at last. As soon as I went into bathroom, I threw up noisily.

When I groped awkwardly back to my bed, I heard Vani’s voice, “Are you okay?” but I didn’t care to reply. I was feeling a lot better and as soon as I lied on the bed, sleep overcame me.

* * *

At the Falls

2010-10-19T13:53:00.000+05:30

I woke up to the sound of the chirping of the sparrows that were sitting on the outstretched bay window. It took a while for me to realize that I was not in the hostel and to get my bearings. I didn’t remember when sleep had conquered me, but surely it was not before an hour after midnight. The daylight was peeking into the room through the gaps in the window curtains whenever they waved. I looked at my wristwatch that was lying by the side of my pillow. It was a few minutes more than six in the morning.

I could know from her even breathing that Vani was fast asleep. She was on the cot whereas I was lying on the floor with only a pillow. On the teapoy was the empty bottle of rum that I had finished after my second attempt with Vani. When I saw that her nightgown had slipped upwards and her fair skinned thick thighs were visible, there was rush of blood in my crotch. Vani stirred, as if she’d felt my gaze on her thighs and lied on her side, now facing away from me. A fleeting desire to climb the cot came to my mind but I dismissed it quickly.

My mind drifted to the Mohan and Nirupama. What must they be doing now? So, after all, Mohan had failed to return the previous night. Why didn’t he? Had he lied to me? I couldn’t figure out. If it had been Nirupama in lieu of Vani, my evening would have been altogether different, I thought. But now I was not very sure. Was something wrong with me? I felt asking myself this question. No, it couldn’t be due to anything wrong with me. It was the stress, the guilt, the terror of committing myself to a future that I didn’t envisage for myself, the fear of being found out by my parents, or by law enforcers, the nervousness arising out of the whole situation, the result of too much drinking and the odour that put me off, I tried to console myself. Yes, the odour had been a huge put off, her body odour. Everyone has his or her own odour, caused by the perspiration and it is supposed to act like an aphrodisiac. Only in my case it had acted otherwise. But I myself was not convinced of all these arguments in support of…Vani stirred again, and I didn’t like to face her. I closed my eyes and acted as if I was asleep. I could hear her going into the bath.

We headed for Jog Falls after eating some insipid breakfast ordered into the room at about half past nine. Mohan and Nirupama had come to our room and both looked elated. This was nothing short of honeymoon to them. I didn’t get any opportunity to ask Mohan why he’d forgotten to return to my room the previous night. He seemed to have totally forgotten about having promised me something like that.

The bus was overcrowded with tourists. Only the girls got seats and Mohan and I had to travel standing in the jam-packed bus. I couldn’t have a view through the window, nor was there any fresh air to enliven me. On the top of it I had to suffer the pokes, jabs, shoves, and even the stale breath of the passengers standing with me. It was unpleasant like hell, the journey; the only redeeming feature was that it was to last no longer than an hour.

It was a great relief to get out of the bus, but the view of the falls was so breathtakingly magnificent that I forgot all about the bus and the unpleasantness of the ride. We’d alighted at the viewpoint located in Shimoga district, presenting the full view of the highest plunge waterfall in India. The river Sharavati plunges from the height of 824 feet, forming four falls known as Raja, Roarer, Rocket and Rani, creating grandest natural beauty and rich scenery. The sky was covered with gray clouds and there was no sign of sun. The air was misty and it rained intermittently, though the rain was more like a fog, sometimes the spraying of cold droplets of water that couldn’t soak you, but gave you a soft cold touch that was soothing and titillating at the same time. The lush green valley, the cool breezes, the fog, the glorious view, the joy and laughter pervading all around was romantic, to say the least.

This being the time when the river Sharavati was fully augmented, tourists and excursionists all over the country had thronged to enjoy the sublime elegance of the water falls and we had a tough time reaching the main platform constructed for viewing, piercing the concourse. There were college going teens, school children, young couples, elderly persons, all creating a raucous cacophony, but all were no doubt too happy to contain their joy.

Still I was too self-conscious to be oblivious of the stares, some amusing, some envious and some disapproving, some wrathful even. I found that Vani was clasping my right arm with both her hands and was clinging to me like a lover. A group of young boys whistled and hooted as we passed by them. Another guy from yet another group shouted, “Leave him alone lady, he won’t get lost!” Some schoolgirls eating snacks in a large group glared at Vani enviously and some even beamed at me. It was all so discomforting and embarrassing, innervating even, that every now and then I tried to break free of Vani’s grip. However, she seemed to be enjoying every bit of the attention, and the more I tried to free myself, the tighter her grip became.

Mohan had put his arm around Nirupama’s shoulders and didn’t even care to think what would be the response of the onlookers. Even Nirupama appeared to busy in conversing with Mohan to care for the people eying them. No doubt they were enjoying every moment, and I couldn’t draw Mohan’s attention. We wandered from one viewpoint to another, which have been constructed for viewing the falls from different angles. I tried to ignore Vani’s grip and enjoy the falls enveloped in the dense cloud of mist. It looked like a river of milk that was plunging down the abyss where even the pool was not visible due to the rebounding milky waters and the vapour that clouded it. At last Mohan took a break and approached me for a cigarette.

We both lit cigarettes and the girls stood a few feet away talking to each other. This was the first time since morning that I had some free moments with Mohan. I wanted to tell him about the previous night and also ask him why he had not returned to my room. However, before I could broach the subject, he asked me if I liked to descend down to the base of the waterfall, the pool. And even before I could reply, Nirupama came to us and said, “Let us climb down”. That settled it for Mohan and I had to follow them in their wake.

We must have descended only about twenty-five feet when we realized that it was not at all going to be easy. It was dark, and fog permitted a vision of only a few feet. Above all, the steps had become too slippery due to incessant rains as well as the fog, and had been covered with a thin layer of fungi. Again it was Nirupama who decided that we better abandon this dangerous adventure and climb back.

By the time we reached the top of the valley, we were all starving. There was only on hotel and it was crowded. Being aware that we would not get something to eat till we get back to the nearest town, we waited patiently till we found a table being vacated. Again, we had to be content with the insipid food offered.

As planned earlier, we walked over the bridge to the other side of the valley to reach the American Bungalow. The bungalow is constructed on a projection rock over the edge of the valley. The bungalow itself is a wonderful sight, surrounded by well-maintained garden. From the platforms constructed there, we could have a view of the falls from above. It was as awe-inspiring as it was gorgeous. There too, we sauntered from place to place enjoying the wonderful creation of the nature.

***

I was under the impression that we would be returning to Dharwad that evening. But those were the days when very few buses plied between Sirsi and Jog and Mohan told me that it was not possible to do so. My mind was soon occupied with the dreary thought of another confrontation with Vani. I didn’t want to do it. I dreaded the very thought of spending another night with her. I was disappointed to learn that it was now inevitable. But deep in my heart, I also began expect that what couldn’t happen on the first night, might as well happen on the second, and that Mohan might remember his promise after all!

We could get back to the hotel around six in the evening. It was getting darker and all of us were exhausted. We wanted sufficient rest and I along with Mohan craved for drinks. However, a rude shock was awaiting us.

As soon as we walked through the entrance, the manager of the hotel called Mohan with a grim expression on his face. I knew that something was wrong. I too joined Mohan and we went to the reception counter. The manager cleared his throat and said, “Sir, after you left for Jog, the local goons had come here. They were enquiring after you.”

I was dismayed. Mohan too seemed aghast. “What do they want?” Mohan asked.

“They don’t like the hotel giving rooms to the young boys and girls. I told them that I had not given any rooms to boys accompanied by girls. They wouldn’t trust me. They said, they would be back in the evening to check.”

I wanted to ask him why couldn’t he ask for police protection, but feeling that that would have been silly, I kept my lips sealed. I was myself not in a position to ask for police protection. “But,” Mohan protested, “It is already too late. We cannot get back to our place. Where are we supposed to go now? “

“I am also helpless sir. Please try to understand our situation. They are very dangerous people”

“Can’t we go to some other hotel?” I asked him hopefully.

“No sir, there are only a couple of hotels in this town and they go to all of them.”

“So you are suggesting that we leave” Mohan said with a sigh.

The manager didn’t reply and started looking into the register. After a while he lifted his head and said, “I can give you some concession in the rates sir”

Mohan turned towards me and found me nodding. “Harsha, please go with the girls and vacate the rooms. I will settle the bill” He said almost in a whisper.

Within the next fifteen minutes, we gathered the few things that we’d left in the rooms and walked out of the hotel. Fortunately as soon as we reached the bus stand, a bus was ready to leave for Hubli.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Fiasco

2010-10-01T17:27:00.001+05:30

When I turned around I found that Vani had disappeared into the bathroom. My heart was still pounding. What was I going to do? How would I touch Vani knowing fully well that I had never even given as much a hint as to suggest I was in love with her? Of course, I was not in love with her and I was sure I would never be, for she was nowhere near the girl that I’d dreamt of. To put it in simple words, as they say these days, she was not my type. Was Nirupama my type? It was an embarrassing question even though I questioned myself. Frankly speaking, she too was not. She could have been, had I ignored her dusky complexion, her somewhat low IQ, her reputation or disrepute and infamy, her general lack of interest in the things intellectual, and things I didn’t myself know how to put in words, but I could never have ignored the fact that she’d chosen Mohan over me in the first place and she’d already lost her virginity to Mohan, if not to someone earlier than him. Then why did I crave to bed her? Was it my way of avenging her for preferring Mohan to me? Why did I see red, although I never expressed it? Undoubtedly it was my ego, or was it envy plain and simple?

Why didn’t Mohan say anything about swapping that he himself proposed and seemed to be dying to do? Had he forgotten? Of course he might not have forgotten. In fact he was more eager to conquer Vani than I was to make love to Nirupama. Perhaps, he was in a hurry. He was certain to turn up later and ask me to go the other room. With these thoughts clouding my mind, I decided to have another drink, forgetting that I had already had one too many. I mixed very little water to a generous peg of liquor so that I could drink it in one gulp before Vani appeared. Just as I was placing the glass back on the teapoy, the bathroom door opened and Vani saw it.

“You are still drinking?” she asked unentangling her long braid with raising both her arms above to reach her mane. I noticed that she was wearing a pink nightgown that had sequins around her neck. I was amazed to see that she really had a mountainous bosom, which either somehow had escaped my attention or discovery or wasn’t noticeable when she wore sari, which she almost everyday did. The pace of my heartbeats quickened rapidly at the voluptuous sight.

“I am damn tired,” I replied lamely. Her laughter suggested she hardly believed me.

She climbed the bed, fluttered the pillow and lied down feigning a yawn. “Me too,” she said and turned sideways, facing the bed lamp. I switched off the lights but the bed lamp was still on. I hadn’t brought any nightdress. Therefore I wrapped a towel around my trunk and removed my pants and shirt. She could hear me changing, but she didn’t budge. She was pretending as if she had slipped into sleep. There was only one bed in the room and sharing it with her was inevitable. But my nerves were failing me. I was cursing Mohan in my own mind for putting me under such a circumstance although I was equally to be blamed, but at the same time deep down in my heart there was a desire, a hunger, an enticement and a temptation that was utterly irresistible. I knew I had to take courage with my both hands in order to approach her but my conscience was putting all sorts of hurdles. Would she agree? If she agreed, won’t she force me to marry her? Ah, she’d to force Bhaskar first, I tried to assure myself. What if all that Bhaskar told about the night preceding Virupakshappa’s marriage were all bloody lies? After all Bhaskar was known for his mastery over the art of concocting all sorts of lies in order to either entertain the listeners, or to serve his own ends. What if the second wicket, after all had not fallen contrary to the observation I had made in a moment of envy coupled with wrath? What if my parents were to know about this? The very thought of my parents finding this out sent a wave of panic in my mind. I would die of shame if such a thing were to happen. What if the police raided the lodge and dragged us to the police station and then informed our parents? The very thought caused my thighs to shudder.

Vani stirred, pulled her legs closer to her chest and thereby revealed her equally voluptuous posterior. My courage of convictions was melting away. God, help me! I cried silently. A thought came to my mind that I could spend the whole night dozing off on the chair. But what would I tell my friends? All my false claims of having conquered innumerable girls would be exposed and my reputation will suffer a severe dent. Why, I could picture right then how my friends would be mocking and teasing me! I could tell the same things as Bhaskar had done and it would be my words against Vani’s. Surely none would be asking Vani about anything that might have happened this night. However where would it leave me? Vani could still compel me to marry her!

I poured another small drink for me and having mixed equal measure of water, drank it bottoms up. It is said that drink gives you all the valour in the world. But it wasn’t helping me at all. It is even said an aroused person has neither fear nor shame. Even that was not happening with me. I decided to take all my thoughts to the bed, and if possible, shrug them off along with the rest of my clothes!

I climbed the bed and lied on my shoulder facing Vani. She still didn’t stir. Was she acting as though she didn’t know what was coming? Was she not interested at all? I lay for a few minutes silently. Then slowly rose with my weight resting on my elbow to see her face. Her eyes were closed. I crept closer to her pressing my whole body against her and encircled her front with my arm. She gave a start and jerked me off, then turned towards me.

“What do you think you are doing?” she asked. I knew for sure that there was no anger in her voice.

“You surely can’t be that naïve not to understand what I am doing,” I replied with feigned peevishness. She simply stared at me with false anger that I could easily recognize. I again moved closer to her and tried to clasp her. She shoved me again. I persisted and this time I grabbed her bosom and she jerked off my hand and said, “Why are you flirting with me?”

Remember we were speaking in Kannada and the use of English word ‘flirt’ sounded funny too me. Suppressing my amusement I said, “Yes, Why not if Bhaskar can?”

“What do you mean by ‘if Bhaskar can?’” she sat upright and looked into my eyes.

“Come on Vani. He’s described picturesquely what happened on that night in Raichur!”

“What happened? It is all nonsense”

“I don’t know if it was nonsense, but something did happen. Didn’t it?”

“Harsha, tell me what Bhaskar has been telling others, please”

I told her how Bhaskar had described his conquest of Vani, though not as graphically as he was able to do. It was only after telling her that I realized it was wrong to tell anybody what Bhaskar had told us in confidence. Apart from being morally wrong, it could drive a wedge between Bhaskar and me. At that point of time, however, I just wanted her and would not mind using Bhaskar’s story as a weapon to subdue her; at least I thought it was a weapon.

“It is all bloody lies Harsha, what happened was nothing like this,” she said after pondering silently for a while, “You know, Nirupama and I were sharing one room and Bhaskar and Mohan were sharing another. We four were the first to reach Raichur and the person who was to receive us at the lodge gave us only two rooms, thinking that the girls would stay in one room and the boys in another. Obviously, Virupakshappa was not sure that you and Vijay would be coming to attend his marriage. In case you didn’t turn up, he would be spending unnecessarily for the rooms that would remain unoccupied. Vijay reached there after 10.45 and was therefore given another room, which he would be sharing with any other guest turning later.

“Bhaskar did come to my room because Nirupama requested to be left alone with Mohan. In fact she went to Mohan’s room and sent Bhaskar to wait in my room. You know, he is a distant relative of mine, so he couldn’t make any wrong move. I’d told Nirupama that I would wait only for an hour after which I would throw Bhaskar out of my room. Bhaskar was drunk and did approach me, but I sternly told him to behave himself. After that he sat there smoking and reading a stale newspaper, and also having a friendly chat with me, mostly making fun of Nirupama and Mohan. When Nirupama returned, he went back to stay with Mohan. That’s all,” Nirupama gazed into my eyes trying find out if I believed her version. I neither wanted to believe what she said nor did I want to find any holes in her story.

“Alright!” I said again letting my hand move over her bosom and getting encouraged that she was not resisting now, “However, neither you are waiting for Nirupama to return after an hour tonight, nor can you throw me out of the room.”

“Are you my lover?” Vani had an edge in her tone.

“Are they lovers?” I asked referring to Mohan and Nirupama.

“Yes. They are,” she replied with conviction.

“Don’t be too sure. This is India. Here, the lovers are supposed to marry. And I am sure Mohan is not going to marry her,” my tone too was edgy now.

“What? Nirupama is in love with him and she’s sure as hell he’ll marry her”

“Is she? Has he ever asked her to marry him?”

“He will. In course of time.”

“If he won’t?”

Vani didn’t reply but sat still thinking about the possibility. But I had already started enjoying myself. When I hugged her, for the first time I found that she was wearing virtually nothing below her gown. She was still thinking when I drew her face near mine and kissed her on lips. She closed her eyes and began kissing me back.

The rendering of a raga in Hindustani classical music always starts with aalap, which is a gradual unfolding, and development of a raga through monosyllables and without a fixed composition. The artist can expand it as much as he likes. It is followed by a singing of a khayal in vilambit tal, which is a lyrical composition of usually two stanzas, very slow in tempo. Then it shifts to madhyam tal, the medium fast tempo and ends with a presentation of a cheez in dhrut, the fast tempo. The whole rendering will be adorned with sargam, laykari, taan and other decorations. The whole performance becomes a manifestation of bliss and beauty. But even a microtone of discordant note spoils the whole performance. All my knowledge of lovemaking had come from unreliable sources such as porn literature and blue films. I had been worked up so much already that there was hardly any place for aalap and vilambit laya. Even the drut couldn’t be carried out, to my dismay, because of a discordant thing that occurred. I was put off because of an unfamiliar unpleasant odour that was emanating from unknown source that affected me so deeply that I was spent well before even touching the destination. About half an hour later, my second expedition also ended up as a disaster, all because of what had become in my view, an all-pervasive stench. The thrill had evaporated and was replaced by angst, despair, exasperation and fear. I had the least inkling of what was to come as an aftermath soon, not in the distant future.

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

The Build Up to Disaster

2010-09-27T13:08:00.000+05:30

Anyone who is shocked at the sight of a girl drinking these days would be looked upon as an anachronism. He’s certain to be branded as feudal and male chauvinist. However, those were the days of only one National Channel TV, and cell phones and computers were mostly unheard of. Even the salwar kameez that is ubiquitous was considered blasphemy in the villages and small towns. I hardly ever saw Vani wearing it one herself, though most of the college going girls had begun wearing it. Even today, majority of us have dual standards and would certainly be upset to know that our girls or women drink even as soft liquor as the beer. No wonder even Mohan was dumbstruck at the feat accomplished by Nirupama. He asked her in a raised voice, “Hey! What do you think you did? It wasn’t a soft drink!”

“I know. Nothing will happen to me. I will only feel sleepy. That’s all. Don’t worry,” she replied very casually.

“It seems she is used to drinking arrack!” I said facetiously.

“At least the arrack is controlled by the government. It seems she’s used to drinking illicit liquor,” Mohan said trying to conceal his anguish. Vani was giggling.

Mohan and I began to sip our drinks slowly, but the impact of what Nirupama had done seemed to have been weighing on our minds too, for I finished my peg in three gulps and Mohan finished his in two. However, Mohan didn’t offer any more rum to Nirupama while preparing the second drinks for us.

“Tomorrow we’ll leave as early as possible for Jog Falls. We will have sufficient time to view the falls from both sides of the valley,” Mohan instructed us while trying to light a cigarette, but Vani requested him not to smoke in the room as she would feel suffocated by the smoke.

Nirupama was speaking louder than usual now. Her cheeks were glowing and the eyes had become half shut, as if she was straining to open them wide. Vani looked disinterested in all this and was quietly reading some Mills and Boons type novel in Kannada.

Nirupama who had shed most of her inhibitions now, addressed me, “Harsha, we thought you wouldn’t come with us.”

“Why?”

“You always keep yourself so aloof from others. You are totally different, unlike others. You are intelligent, well-read, brought up in a bigger city and modern.”

“So what?”

“I remember how you disliked our department tour to Badami. The whole day you looked depressed. You hardly talked to anyone. You didn’t even eat anything the whole day. You went on smoking. You didn’t enjoy it, did you?”

It pained me to remember that day. How could I tell her that she was the cause of my resentment that day? After all, she’d chosen Mohan over me. I couldn’t tell her that it was envy that was seething inside me, and continues to do so even to this day.

“Ah, I did enjoy the trip,” I lied knowing fully well that none would believe me, “I have my own ways of enjoying things, you know.”

“Well, I thought you missed your girl friend of your college days,” Mohan said taking a large sip of liquor.

“Did you have a girlfriend?” Vani suddenly entered the conversation.

“All of us had girl friends long before coming to university. What do you think, we have never seen any girls before you?” Mohan replied for me.

I knew that Mohan had been madly in love with a girl when he was in pre-university college. That the affair ended in the girl’s father taking a transfer to a different place was also well known to all his friends. Bhaskar even used to tell how the girl was wailing and sniveling when she’d met Mohan for the last time in all graphic details.

I had had my shares of crushes too. It would sound ridiculous now to tell anybody that I was in love with a girl when I was just eight years old! The immediate to come to my mind was the picture of a dark lean girl, who I used to meet everyday in the bus on the way to undergraduate college. I had to change buses at the City Bus Terminus popularly know as CBT every day and would find Rajashree, who was my classmate majoring English literature, waiting for me, reserving a seat by her side. Whenever she laughed, which she did it all the time when I was with her, the dimples that appeared on her cheeks were so alluring and seductive that I’d fallen flat for her. It was pleasant beyond words to be sitting with her in a jam-packed bus, often those standing by my side shoving me hard against her soft, nimble body. She used to approach me during the college hours too, with a host of doubts and questions as though I was her teacher. All my hopes came crashing down when at the end of the final year, she introduced me to a tall, fair guy who was studying for M.Com and told me in a suggestive manner that he was to be her life partner. All my dreams were shattered to smithereens. But soon thereafter, I came to the university and brushed aside her memories as some forgettable, if not regrettable, infatuation.

When pitted against Mohan, insofar as all other things I was well ahead of him but for having experienced a failure in love. Though I didn’t explicitly lie to friends, I would never counter any insinuations they made or inferences they drew. It was the only way to create an image of myself that was better than that of Mohan. As an after thought, I must add, that I had been disappointed throughout my childhood, as far as my craving for a companion, whose image constantly fleeted in my mind. I had had too many failures, each giving me considerable heart ache and finally impelled me to arrive at a conclusion that there was nobody made for me!

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts as well as the conversation that the others were having and presently, a waiter entered with dinner for us. Mohan had ordered North Indian dishes and a couple of plates of fried chicken. The girls were vegetarian at home, as per the customs of their caste, but Nirupama was obviously used to eating chicken and she relished it. Vani sat a couple of paces away and avoided looking at chicken. Although I was starving, I couldn’t eat much, for I concentrated on my drinks. Mohan ate very little too, obviously anxious to go to the next part of the evening. Nirupama said with a wink to me, “Eat little Harsha, you have a lot to do!” which I felt was disgusting. Vani blushed and wouldn’t lift her head from her dinner plate.

Surprisingly Mohan had consumed only two pegs, much less than his usual intake. I saw that there was at least two pegs of liquor left in the bottle. The moment the waiter cleared the plates, Mohan stood up and asked Nirupama to leave. When she was gone, he waited at the door beckoning me with a wink, and shook my hands to say ‘Good Night’ but I felt he had placed something in my palm. When I opened my palms I saw a packet of condoms! I could hear my own heart pounding furiously while I closed the door and bolted it securely.

*** *** *** **

New Revelations

2010-09-24T19:15:00.004+05:30

It was more than a four-hour journey from Hubli to Sirsi and by the time we landed in a dirty bus station at Sirsi, it was almost five in the evening. It was just like coming out of a reverie for me, waking up to the rude shock of the stink of urine wafting in the air and the cattle wandering freely in the bus station as if it were a cattle shed. I’d enjoyed the journey so much that I wished it had never ended. But others looked tired and eager to get the hell out of bus. I didn’t have any idea as to where we’d be heading thereon. I left all such mundane worries to Mohan and taking out a small comb that I always kept in my pocket and combed my hair that had ruffled due to wind blowing through the window. Nirupama was pushing back tress on her cheek and looked so enchanting that my heart skipped a beat. In the next instance, I felt I was being silly. Yet Mohan’s promise that we would swap partners once we are settled in the lodge kept coming to my mind.

“The lodge is nearby. Let’s walk,” Mohan said moving towards the small gate fitted into the compound wall on one of the sides leading to the road. We followed him silently.

Sirsi was neither a big city nor a small town. It was somewhere in between. It retained some of the characteristics of a malnad village while many concrete buildings had come up on the main streets of the market that were mainly hotels, restaurants, and shops. The old market was still crowded with nondescript sheds, carts and trolleys. People spoke a different version of Kannada, though there were quite a few people who spoke the language of northern plains of Karnataka.

Outside the bus station, a number of passenger vans were lined up with the drivers seated on the driving seat and unnecessarily honking the horns to send the message to the travelers that the van was about to leave, while the assistants were yelling the names of different destinations at the top of their voice. A couple of people sitting in a barber shop were eyeing us with curiosity; even the one whose face had been lathered for shaving, was straining to turn his neck to have a look at us. I hoped that the barber would cut his ear!

Mohan was oblivious to all the stares and was walking towards the hotel. He obviously knew the town, and our destination well. The broader road gave way to a narrow lane descending towards an intersection point, which was visible now, and I came to understand that Sirsi was located on an undulated landscape. Just a few meters before the intersection, on the right side a concrete building of two floors stood amidst nondescript buildings. It was the hotel where Mohan was taking us.

Mohan went to the reception counter while the rest of us stood a few paces apart. There was a short, plump man with a round fair face wearing a white bush shirt at the counter. I couldn’t see his lower half for it was concealed by the counter. Mohan talked to him, wrote something in the register that the latter placed open before him and at last paid some cash. The receptionist who was perhaps the proprietor too, beckoned a room service boy and handed him keys to the rooms. Mohan approached us and pointing to the stairs, said, “We have rooms on the first floor. Come on.”

We climbed the stairs after the room service boy. The hallway leading to the rooms was dimly lighted. The rooms we were shown were opposite each other. While the room boy changed the bed sheets we waited outside. After he was finished, Mohan tipped him handsomely. “Is there anything else you want sir?” he asked with a wide grin. Mohan asked him to come later and looking at us said loudly, “This room is for the girls. We’ll occupy the opposite room,” as if he wanted the room boy to hear it and understand that the boys and girls will be staying in different rooms. However, the room boy must have seen hundreds of lodgers like us, for his grin became wider as though he had caught some thief red-handed, as he turned towards the stairs to climb down.

Meanwhile the girls had gone into the room that he had pointed out to them. I entered the other room with Mohan in my wake. He closed the door behind him and went straight into the bathroom. The room was about ten by twelve feet, sufficiently big. There was a double bed with a clean white sheet. There was a dressing table with a stool, a couple of chairs and a bed lamp. Everything was new, for the hotel itself seemed to have been recently constructed. The bay window opened towards the street but didn’t offer any pleasant view.

Mohan came out of bathroom and said, “I going downstairs to get something. I think you need cigarettes. Meanwhile you may use the bathroom and get fresh.”

I nodded and before I could say anything, he’d gone out. I went into the bathroom, but had to use it hurriedly. It was filled with cigarette smoke since there was no exhaust fan in it. The bathroom had one louvered window and it would take a long time for the smoke to clear.

About fifteen minutes later, Mohan returned, and both the girls too entered the room in his wake. Vani was carrying her bag but Nirupama’s hands were free. I rose from the bed where I was lying and sat on one of the chairs. The girls sat on the bed while Mohan paced up and down towards the door as if he were expecting someone. There was a knock at the door and he rushed to open it. He indeed was waiting for someone, and it was the waiter who had brought a half bottle of Old Monk rum and a couple of bottles of soft drink. They were cluttered with glasses, soda water and chips on the tray. He laid the tray on the teapoy and calmly went out.

“Oh oh! You have already made your arrangements,” said Vani.

“How can they forget it?” asked Nirupama.

“It is only our daily dose. Nothing more,” Mohan replied with a grin and opened the bottle of rum.

I didn’t expect Mohan to get the liquor when the girls were with us, although I wouldn’t have given a hoot about their presence. As the evening was advancing into dark, I was craving for a drink. But that the girls weren’t at all shocked or even surprised bewildered me. Those were the days in the early nineties when the girls were not even sent to college as it was thought to be inviting trouble. But these girls were certainly bolder than girls of metropolitan cities. Modernity must have been only a veneer over my conservative mind, I thought, perhaps I wasn’t as modern and open-minded as the girls were. Mohan poured the rum in two glasses and after mixing soda water, handed one to me.

“What about us?” Nirupama asked him teasingly.

Mohan opened the two bottles of soft drink with an opener and handed one to Vani who said she didn’t like soft drinks. When Nirupama extended her hand to take a bottle, instead of handing it over to her, he kept it back on the teapoy and poured almost two pegs of rum into another glass and filled it with soft drink and he gave her the glass. I was watching all this curiously.

“Does she drink?” I asked Mohan with astonishment.

Before he could reply, Nirupama said, “Cheers!” and emptied the glass in one go!

Shocked out of my wits, I stared at her with mouth agape.

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Panorama

2010-09-20T17:25:00.000+05:30

As the bus came out of the city, crowded with people, buildings of various proportions in equally various conditions, the road lined with small shops and street vendors standing behind their carts, dirty and stinking side drains at places overflowing, some men shamelessly urinating on the compound walls surrounding vacant plots filled with rubbish and garbage, torn old cinema posters fluttering wildly as the vehicles pass by them, I caught a breath of fresh air and a view filled with greenery of farm fields with saplings of maize swinging in unison. But soon I got a whiff of the foul smell of the smoke emanating from bidi, which someone at the front portion of the bus was merrily smoking in defiance of the rule of no smoking in the bus.

I remembered an incident that happened when I was an undergraduate student in Belgaum. I had two very close friends with whom I was huddled in a small restaurant to drink a bottle of rum that one of my friends had been able to obtain from an ex-military person. All the ex-military men get their monthly quota of liquor at subsidized prices in the military canteen and some of them sell it at a higher price, yet much lower than the actual market price. We were not sitting in a bar. It was a small restaurant serving snacks, but the owner being a friend of the friend of mine, had allowed us to sit there, after the business hours. The two friends with me were Krishna Hulkund and Subhash Vannalli, both my classmates since I joined the pre-university college. Subhash was not a smoker, but he ate ghutka. Krishna and I used to smoke. After the first round of drinks, surprisingly Subhash lit a cigarette and let a stream of smoke on the face of Krishna, which the latter didn’t like. With a wince, he shouted, “Hey! Stop it man. I don’t like this.”

Subhash laughed and said, “What difference does it make Krishna? You too smoke.” Krishna was known for his quips, and he retorted immediately, “You ear ghutka and spit. What if someone chews ghutka and spit in your mouth? Would you like it?”

I heard the conductor as well as a couple of co-passengers reprimanding the villager who was smoking bidi and he was forced to throw it out. I left a sigh of relief. Although I smoke, I hate the smell of smoke that the smokers let out. Again, I felt the whiff of fresh air gently nudging me and my mood was elated. I felt Vani’s thigh and shoulder touching mine, giving the pleasure that I had never experienced before. Along with four of us, another three passengers were sitting on the last seat, meant for six people. If I were sitting with some strangers, I would have felt miserable, like being crushed. However, now I thanked the seventh passenger in my mind, for creating such a pleasant situation!

Nirupama and Mohan were continuously chatting with each other. When I stole a glance at Nirupama’s beautiful face, a bunch of long hair fluttering on her cheek, I felt, after all, I was not as happy as Mohan was. I started humming the ascending and descending notes of Rag Bridavani Sarang, trying variations, while gazing at the lush green farm fields in which women wearing saris of bright hues were working. When I thought I had got the notes right, I broke into singing a cheez, set in that raga. I was well aware that Vani was listening to me attentively and gazing at me.

“This is Sarang. Isn’t it?” Suddenly she asked me. I was surprised at her knowledge of music.

“Yes. Have you learnt Hindustani Music?”

“Long back, when I was in school, my father used to force me to attend music classes in the evenings, but I could never sing. Of course I like the film music, especially the old melodies,” She replied, with a bright smile.

“I too used to like film songs. But I have graduated to classical music now. I think it is a process of evolution. Some are stuck at the first level itself,” I said, without any intention to offend her, but I had to hastily add, “Of course, I love the old film songs even today.”

“I like the lyrics of the old songs along with the melody,” she said without taking any offense.

“True, in film songs, Bhakti songs and Bhavageet, lyrics is more important than melody. The musical content is secondary. But in classical music, the lyrics are secondary and musical content is all important.” I agreed with her with further elaboration.

“How is the new couple enjoying?” Nirupama suddenly asked this question bending towards us with a naughty wink. It embarrassed me and disappointed me too, for it meant she was distancing herself from me. When this thought crossed my mind, I felt ashamed. She was in love with Mohan, not me. She had got what she wanted. She didn’t know that I liked her better than Vani. I couldn’t blame her. But was she pushing me towards Vani? I kept questioning myself.

“We’re friends and not a couple like you,” Vani replied flashing a smile at Mohan.

“It’s only a matter of time,” Nirupama persisted.

Why didn’t I say anything? A thousand things passed in my mind, which could have found expression if someone else was in my place. I could never respond in time, could I? I could have said that I couldn’t fancy Vani even if I were to stay with her for ages, that I actually didn’t know about the trip, that if sufficient advance notice were given to me, I could have refused to come, that in fact I fancied Nirupama and not Vani, that all of them had tricked me into joining them in this excursion, that the name Nirupama is musical, containing the notes ni, re, pa, and ma, and I loved music, that I could have…What the hell!

Immersed in my thoughts as I was, I missed a couple of exchanges between Nirupama and Vani. The bus took a right turn on to a smaller road, leaving the National Highway and soon there was no longer a smooth ride. The speed of the bus decreased considerably to lessen the impact of bumps and was swerving now and then to make way for the overtaking and oncoming vehicles. The road, though not smooth, was a good sight, meandering and lined with huge trees. In the dappled shade of some trees, some village folk were idling by the side of the road, and as the bus passed by them, all the faces turned towards us. I pushed back all the thoughts of the present to the remote recesses of my mind, and began enjoying the view through the window, and the cool breeze that kept gently stroking my face.

A few miles into the North Canara district, the surroundings changed dramatically, with vast plain areas replaced by thick, seemingly impenetrable forest. Trees rose to such heights that sitting in the bus, it was not possible to see their tops at places. Many trees had a girth of several meters. There were teak trees, which stood erect with big leaves sprouting all around. I could recognize some sandalwood trees also, but a large number of trees were unknown to me, being a city dweller as I was. But that hindered the least my pleasure of watching them in all their glory. At some places, the woods were interspersed with these forests are swampy fallows, where the water was covered with white lotuses and white cranes hovering above or brooding, and this made the scene immensely delightful and soothing. The droplets of rainwater dripping from the leaves of the trees, shrubs, and creepers, the drains flowing with clear water, were all the sights that were so pleasant that I forgot for a while all about the adventure I had been dragged into undertaking. The villages were far apart, sparsely populated and very neat and clean unlike the villages on the plains of north Karnataka, which were perpetually filled with the rancid stink of cow dung and human excreta, and which turned into virtual hell during the rainy season, for the dirt roads were flooded with the water overflowing from the gutters, if there happened to be any.

“Isn’t this beautiful Harsha?” Vani tried to break the ice and chat with me. Although I didn’t like to be disturbed thus, I couldn’t be rude to her. I turned towards her; her face was so close to mine that she was peeping into my eyes.

“Yeah, not just beautiful, it is romantic!” God! What did I say?

She warmed up, and leaned on me closing the small gap between us, and held my right arm with both her hands and beamed at me the brightest of her smiles. Then she asked me in a whisper, “Are you romantic too?”

“Ah, my idea of the romantic seems to be different than yours,” I said hardening a bit and trying to restrain myself. I thought she would be disheartened, but she was not at all put out, for obviously she understood from my words what she wanted to them to mean.

“Is anybody hungry?” Mohan asked looking at us.

I nodded indicating that I wasn’t and others did not reply. I shifted my gaze to Nirupama to find that she had dozed off on his shoulders with a smile on her face that had not yet faded. I felt a pang of jealousy and immediately turned away to look out of window. Soon I was once again immersed in relishing the delights of the panorama of landscape.

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Out of Bounds

2010-09-16T18:28:00.000+05:30

Mohan dropped his cigarette on the ground and stamped on it hurriedly as if he had remembered something of importance suddenly and said, “Harsha, we need to buy something too. Come on.” As I was wont to by now, I followed him without a question. He entered the hosiery section for men and purchased undergarments for both, although I didn’t need one. When I asked him why are we buying them, he replied, “We’ll need them where we are going.”

“Where are we going?” I asked him in a raised voice with alarm. I had thought we would be going straight back to the campus. “Shsh…” he silenced me, and said, “Have you seen Jog Falls? This is the appropriate time to see it. It would be wonderful now.”

He smiled conspiringly, watching the intrigued look on my face. And then added, “This’s the opportunity boy! The girls are coming with us. In fact, it is the other way round.”

“But I don’t have sufficient money,” I protested.

“Did we ever have? By the way, the girls are going to spend it,” he replied.

“But…”

“No ifs and buts pal. I want to bed that Vani. She behaves with me as if I am nothing. We’ll exchange partners once we are settled in the hotel in Sirsi. I want to teach Vani a lesson,” he said with a revengeful tone.

Although I couldn’t understand why Mohan was angry with Vani, I was excited at the prospect of spending time alone with Nirupama.

“Will she agree?” I was asking about Nirupama and my voice had softened almost to a whisper.

Mohan laughed tauntingly, for he’d discovered my secret desire, and quoted a popular idiom in Kannada, “Will anybody ask the chicken before grinding the masala?” Masala is the mixture of spices used in cooking chicken curry.

“How much for this?” he asked the salesperson pointing towards the t-shirt hung behind the counter. I didn’t hear the reply, for I was already deep in my thoughts. The idea of going on a trip with the girls was indeed titillating and it was giving me Goosebumps. However, I was at the same time afraid of undertaking such an adventure. I knew, in the heart of my hearts, that it was wrong. Going with the girls such a long way, staying at the hotel, and then… it was all very wrong; certainly against all the customs of our society. Dating is unknown in India, and India would never adopt it, of which I was sure. My parents would never approve of it; as a matter of fact it would be outrageous as well as sacrilegious to them, even more so to the parents of the girls. If they ever found this out, they would be shocked to death. Am I afraid of going on a date or of being found out? I tried to be analytical in my thinking, but couldn’t go on like that. I wanted to go, but I also didn’t want to go. What I really wanted, I was afraid to admit. Yes, there was some security, for either Vani or Nirupama would not be able to force me into marrying either of them. Why, they must have understood that it was within my knowledge that Nirupama had slept with Mohan and Vani, with Bhaskar during our trip to attend Virupakshappa’s marriage. No, they won’t have courage to ask me to marry, for I would not be the first to sleep with them. God! What rubbish was going through my mind! I cursed myself.

On the other hand, I couldn’t really refuse to go with them. How could I? I had created an image of myself, that of a modern, courageous, rebellious and uninhibited person, who would not care about scruples in matters concerning sex, in order to obtain the appreciation and esteem of my friends. If I were to refuse to go, I had to give Mohan a valid reason, or at least a plausible one. Then I would have to withstand the worst of his disappointment. The other friends are sure to hear about all this and would be disillusioned. Worst, I would be a butt of jokes among friends due to what they would perceive as timidity and cowardice.

“How do you like this colour Harsha?” Mohan asked me loudly and I started, all thoughts fleeting in my mind suddenly vanishing. It was a light blue coloured t-shirt that he held high in his hands.

“Very nice and sober,” I replied.

“This is for you,” he said and hastily added, “Don’t refuse, for you would require it there.” He was referring to Jog Falls.

Presently I saw the girls approaching us. Mohan walked towards them and took Nirupama along with him to the cash counter to pay the bills and Vani kept coming towards me. “Let’s go out,” she said as soon as she was a couple of paces near me. I strode towards the entrance along with her, very conscious of one of the salesperson staring at us.

“So this is your first visit to Saroja’s house. Isn’t it?” She asked as we came to a halt on the pavement to wait for Mohan and Nirupama.

“Yes, and I didn’t know that till you told me in the bus,” I said, somewhat testily, looking at a car that was passing by.

She laughed heartily and said, “And I presume you do not know where we are going now?”

“I didn’t until a while ago.” Before I could add something, Mohan and Nirupama arrived carrying polythene bags. It was almost noon, but the sky was as cloudy as my mind was. Mohan and Vani started discussing something about lunch and I, being aware that Nirupama was looking at me, lit a cigarette.

“It is too early to have lunch. Moreover I am sure none of us is hungry. So let’s first jump into the bus to Sirsi. We can think about it later,” Nirupama joined the discussion understanding that I would rather enjoy my cigarette than have small talk with her.

At the Central Bus Station of Hubli, as soon as we reached the platform from which the buses would leave for Sirsi, luckily we found that a bus was about to leave. Only the last row was vacant. The girls sat between Mohan and me, of course Vani by my side. Then I suddenly realized that I had not even decided to go with them or not. I was just thinking and thinking endlessly, and the decision that Mohan had made had become final. The bus plunged forward with a jerk and Vani, losing her balance, gripped my arm tightly with both her hands, her cheek resting on my shoulder. I said to myself, to hell with everything, I was going!

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Saroja, the lotus!

2010-09-09T18:45:00.000+05:30

When we reached Saroja’s house, I found her waiting for us. I got down from the autorikshaw first as I was sitting at the edge of the seat, hanging would be more appropriate. I wondered how the four us could get into the autorikshaw, meant for, at the most three persons apart from the driver. I was the skinniest of the four and that’s why, I thought while getting out. Saroja’s house was located in the bazaar area and if she were not waiting for us at the small door between two shops, I wouldn’t have been able to spot that door. She gave us a very warm welcome.

Although she had been my classmate for more than a year, and was part of our group frequenting the university canteen almost every afternoon, I knew very little about her. Born and brought up in Hubli, she was essentially a city girl. She wore skirts, t-shirts, and jeans and high heels. Well below five feet, she was slender but curvy, with swells and depths at appropriate places and proportions. She was neither fair nor dark; her complexion could best be described as the colour of pale cinnamon. She corrected her myopic eyesight by powerful lenses, but whenever any boy was around, she would remove her glasses. It was evident that she was worried about the dark circles around her eyes, but never guessed that they didn’t in the least reduce her attraction. Yes, she was attractive, but not very beautiful. On the long corridors of the university, we the boys observed many times that her casual gait changed into catwalk as soon as she found that we had spotted her. This was a topic of prolonged and hilarious discussions amongst us in the hostel.

Another thing peculiar to her was her speech, that is the habitual manner of speaking. She had a very soft and very feminine voice. She wasn’t a chatterbox but she used to quip now and then. If you were not attentive, you are certain to miss out what she said, for she delivered her quips at express speed. Aside from all her mannerisms, she was very kind, considerate and condescending to her friends. We used to make fun of her, behind her back and sometimes right under her nose, but none of us could have disliked her.

Her house, though with a small and narrow entrance, was sufficiently spacious with two stories. Though the furniture were old and worn out, they were covered with artfully decorated covers. She stayed with her mother and an elder sister; both were present when we visited her. Her sister must have been only a couple of years older, but not even half as much good looking as Saroja. I couldn’t ask any personal question as to where her father was, what was he, did she have a brother or not and so on, neither in the presence of others, nor in person, for it would have been grossly inappropriate to do so. Asking very personal questions immediately after getting introduced is very common in this part of the world, but somehow, I had come to consider it as bad manners and as violating personal liberty. It might well have been the influence of the western literature and philosophy to which I had been exposed.

I began enjoying the get together, for Saroja and her mother were wonderful hosts. Saroja’s elder sister kept somewhat aloof, busying herself in the kitchen preparing breakfast for all. I observed that she smiled but very rarely and that a deep melancholy glued to her face as though eternally. In contrast Saroja was radiant and loquacious and she chatted with all of us garrulously. Their mother, in her early fifties was obese but surprisingly very agile. She too spoke with all of us, enquiring about our families, parents, family-properties, and our plan for the future.

“As far as Saroja is concerned, she need not work. We have sufficient income to take care of all our needs. Whenever she wants to marry, I can give my son-in-law, whatever dowry he may demand,” She said happily without noticing that Saroja was feeling uneasy and embarrassed.

“Two blocks each on the either side of this house were owned by my family and have come to me as parsimony,” she continued, “My parents were one of the richest family in this whole region once upon a time. But they lost much of their property just by their magnanimity. They land and buildings to educational institutions run by the maths.”

“Mother, what is the use of mulling over the past now?” Saroja interjected agitatedly.

“No dear, I am just giving some information,” her mother brushed her away and continued again, “Not that it matters now. But even now we’re left with sufficient and you needn’t get master’s degree to obtain a job. That is what I am trying to tell them.” I could see a scowl on Saroja’s face.

Oblivious to Saroja’s feelings and unconcerned about her remarks, her mother, this time looking at me as if she were addressing me alone, began with a renewed enthusiasm, “Our family is very liberal and modern in outlook, in spite of the fact that we belong to a conservative caste of Lingayats. Saroja is a very lucky girl. She may marry any person of her choice irrespective of his caste.”

Now even I was feeling embarrassed. Mohan and Nirupama were engaged in their own chat in whispers and probably didn’t hear anything. So were Saroja and Vani. Saroja was by now resigned to the fact that she could not bridle her mother’s cackle. I was left alone in the direct line of fire. Was she offering me something, or was she sounding me or was she indulging just in a small talk, I couldn’t figure out. Although Saroja looked busy talking to Vani, I knew she had all her ears to the dialogue between her mother and me. She would steal a glance at me now and then as if trying to know what I was going in my mind. But I was nothing but perplexed.

“Look, we have everything that is needed for a comfortable life. But what I do not have is a male child. That’s why my only condition to my future son in law will be that he should stay with us, as my son would’ve, if I had one,” Saroja’s mother was still concentrating on her speech and on me, as I suspected then.

To my relief, and perhaps to the relief of Saroja also, her elder sister entered the room with a big tray cluttered with plates of dosas, upama and sweets. She kept the tray on the teapoy and went inside without saying a word. My guess was she was to bring another tray, perhaps with cups filled with tea. Saroja’s mother had to cease her babble and she now addressed her younger daughter, “Saru, don’t just sit idly. Ask your friends to feel at home. Serve them breakfast.”

Saroja, with a relieved look in her eyes, got up and handed a plate to each of us and served chutney and pickles. I hadn’t had my breakfast and was starving. I said, “As far as food is concerned, aunty, I always feel at home, especially when I am not eating at my own home!”

Everyone laughed as I took my plate from the hands of Saroja and said, “Looks delicious! What are you waiting for, friends? Let’s attack!” I was surprised myself by what I had been able to do and say. All of us began to eat silently, for unlike in the west, it is considered bad manners to talk while eating in this part of the world.

It was not a breakfast, but what these days is called a brunch. Everything tasted so good that without anybody goading me to eat, I ate to the content of not only my stomach, but also heart. If you are compelled to eat in the hostel canteen everyday, you are certain to feel the way I did when I was offered such a delectable food. At about eleven, we took leave and decided to walk down to the bus stop instead of taking an autorikshaw. Saroja asked us to stay for the lunch; in fact she was begging her to stay till evening. But Mohan whispered to her that we’d some other plan. I didn’t know of any plan that we had, and I thought he was just making an excuse.

While walking back to the bus stop, the girls saw a readymade garment store and Mohan permitted them to go inside on the condition that we wait outside the store. He wanted to have a cigarette badly and I wanted to be with him alone, so I could clear some of the questions that were pestering me.

“Where is Saroja’s father?” I asked him as soon as he lit a cigarette staring at the back of the girls entering the store.

“Don’t you know?” he feigned surprise and said, “Her father left her mother for another younger woman. Now he visits them once a week, on Sundays. While studying for his graduation, he was staying with his maternal uncle, who was Saroja’s grandfather. The old man had taken pity on her father because apart from being very poor, he was a distant relative. The old man wanted him to marry Saroja’s mother, which the young boy obeyed dutifully. But when he completed his education and got a good job, he began to think that the old man had duped him into marrying his daughter. Then he fell in love with some colleague of his and married her. Saroja’s mother took everything into her stride and contented herself with taking care of her daughters.”

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed, but felt relieved that I didn’t ask any question about Saroja’s father while at her home. “How ungrateful people can be!”

I also lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. I had to ask another question and this was the only opportunity. So I asked it, “Her mother was continuously talking about Saroja’s mother. But Saroja has an elder sister about whom she didn’t even make a single reference. Why is that?”

Mohan, who was staring at a girl wearing tight jeans and t-shirt, turned his face towards me as if forcibly, and replied, “She’d been engaged once. Even the marriage invitations cards had been distributed. I’ve heard that it was a love at first sight for both the boy and girl. But at the last moment, the marriage was cancelled because of what Saroja’s father has done. Since then, Saroja’s elder sister has lost all interest in marriage. In fact she looks like she’s lost all interest in life. It is very painful to see a daughter in such a state of mind. Isn’t it?”

I was shocked speechless. I remembered all that Saroja’s mother was telling. It was not a blabber. She wanted at least her second daughter to be happily married. The melancholy filled face of Saroja’s sister came to my mind. I began to feel very sorry for her, for Saroja’s mother and Saroja herself. How could she look so happy in the university, having such difficulties, trials and tribulations at home? She was indeed a very brave girl. My respect for her multiplied that instant, but there was a bitter after taste to the scrumptious food I had had at her house.

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Another Journey

2010-09-02T12:27:00.001+05:30

“Harsha, I want to take you somewhere. Be ready at eight tomorrow morning and meet me at the bus stop,” Mohan whispered to me one evening while returning from the city. I understood that he wanted it to be only between us. I was so elated by this, for he’d chosen me over Bhaskar that I didn’t even ask him where he wanted me to go with him. I didn’t even care to tell this to Vijay, which was as bad as Mohan concealing something from Bhaskar, if not worse. To some extent I was intrigued too, but I did not worry about it, as I felt as though I had attained a hard fought victory. At long last, I had been able to win the confidence and true friendship of Mohan. I couldn’t help recapitulating the days when Mohan and Bhaskar used to treat me as an outsider, used to disappear without giving me even a semblance of an excuse and behaved as if they didn’t owe an explanation to me when they reappeared. But although both of them were co-conspirers, I, in retrospect wonder why I held Bhaskar alone responsible. Now was my chance to go with Mohan and Bhaskar would get the taste of his own medicine!

Next morning, when I had finished bathing and was dressing up, Vijay woke up and looked at me in surprise. “God! It is just seven-thirty and you are up and ready?” he asked.

“I am going out Vijay, I have a personal work,” I replied with some guilt.

“You didn’t say anything about it last evening,” he said accusingly.

“I thought of it only this morning. I didn’t want to disturb your sleep. I was going to tell you before leaving,” I replied defensively.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes and asked, “Is it some date?”

I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I said vaguely, “Something similar.”

He looked satisfied and said, “Anyway, there’s only one lecture today. Have a nice time!”

Thus relieved, I rushed to the canteen and had upama and a cup of tea in hurry. When asked, the proprietor of the canteen told me that Mohan had just gone out.

I ran towards the bus stop near the hostel, but he was nowhere to be seen. Intrigued, I ran through the botanical gardens towards the main bus stop of the university. I might have taken not more than ten minutes to reach the bus stop and I was panting and gasping furiously. I found Mohan talking to Nirupama and Vani near coffee shop behind the post office. They were sipping coffee. I slowed down to equalize my breath and ambled towards them.

The first to notice me was Nirupama since Mohan had his back towards me. She smiled brightly and said, “Good Morning Harsha, you are in time.” Mohan too turned his head and smiled at me and as I approached him, put his hands around my shoulders. “Well, you seem to have been running,” sensing my fast breath and body heat, he observed. Vani smiled at me and said, “At last, we have got you!”

I didn’t understand what she meant by that but I ignored it and addressed Mohan, “I thought you asked me to come to the hostel bus stop, so I took time in getting ready.”

"Never mind. You aren’t late,” he said warmly.

“You want coffee?” Nirupama asked. I nodded in refusal. The bus screeched to halt as I was nodding and we had to run again to catch it. I wanted to ask Mohan where we were headed to but he sat with Nirupama, leaving me to sit with Vani. It was only after a while, I heard Mohan say Hubli while buying the tickets from the conductor, that I realized that the bus was going to Hubli and so were we.

Vani was sitting on the window seat and I, at the aisle. She was wearing a light pink sequined sari and a matching blouse. She wore a small garland of jasmines in her plait hanging by the side of her right cheek. The cool breeze through the window that brushed my face gently, brought the scents of jasmines, which always inebriated me and made me nostalgic. The feel of her thighs and shoulders, when they brushed me now and then, excited me by the softness of her feminineness and I craved for more and more of it. She too looked elated, happy and content with herself, smiling to herself continuously. I began humming the notes of Rag Bhoopali to myself and she looked at me. “You look very happy today?” she asked.

“Do I?” I asked her in reply and then said, “Perhaps not as happy as you are today”.

“You know what? I want to be happy and I always try to be happy,” she said very enthusiastically.

“And succeed, don’t you?” I again asked her with a mild laugh.

“Why are you so serious and taciturn always?” she enquired after staring out of the window for a while.

“I didn’t know that I am serious always. I am not tongue-tied, but I am not given to say everything that comes to my mind.”

“But I like to talk, anything and everything that matters or that doesn’t matter.”

I didn’t respond to that and kept looking out of the window, enjoying the buildings, electric and telephone poles, lush green trees and shrubs rushing by and the horizon keeping pace with me, cautiously avoiding looking at her full cheeks, small nose with a shining nose-stud and her large dark eyes.

“By the way, would you be surprised if I say that I do not know where we’re going?” I asked her.

“Why, I certainly would be. Didn’t Mohan tell you?” she replied with amazement in her eyes.

“Well, he couldn’t, perhaps,” the reply was more to myself than to her.

I looked towards the seat in the front where Mohan was sitting. I noticed that he had put his hand around Nirupama’s shoulders, his cheeks almost touching hers and I imagined him whispering endearments in her ears. I too wanted to do that to a girl, but Vani wasn’t Nirupama, I thought. And Nirupama too wasn’t someone whose fleeting glimpse I had always had since my childhood. Suddenly as though I was roused from a sweet dream, I asked myself what the hell was I doing there in the bus, sitting beside Vani, talking to her intimately. Only a couple of months ago she had slept in the same room as Bhaskar, and during that trip to Mantralaya and back to Ranebennur, Vani and I had exchanged only a few words. Why Mohan had replaced Bhaskar with me? Was it a gesture of his gratitude for helping him? I was totally befuddled. I remembered that at the bus stop, neither of the girls was surprised to see me. In fact they were expecting me and not Bhaskar. Mohan and the girls had all conspired together to have me. What the hell was going on?

“Look at you. Again you have become thoughtful and mute,” Vani said trying to draw my attention by tapping on my shoulder.

“What are we going to do in Hubli?” I asked her.

“We are going to Saroja’s house. She’s invited us. She’s invited you too,” She replied smilingly.

“What about others?” I asked her innocently to which she replied with an intriguing smile.

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

If you must...

2010-08-19T19:11:00.001+05:30

Most of the seniors were gone now, but quite a few remained, like a pain in the ass! But some of our own classmates but studying in different departments were assuming the role the seniors, forgetting quite easily what rigmarole they’d undergone when they were juniors. Some of them had developed intimacy with the local lads who were scum of the college going students. They would beat an unsuspecting and innocent boy just for the heck of it. A boy was beaten up on the campus just because these so called leaders could not tolerate his mannerism of twirling his moustache. Another boy was beaten by accusing him of staring at one of the members of the gang. There were now at least three gangs excluding ours, which was not violent at all.

I would never have thought of our group as a gang back then, least of all a violent gang. Our group was a defense mechanism, which neither I nor any other member of the group would have thought as such. It was a group of friends, and persons like Mohan and Bhaskar, being on friendly terms with many bad characters, could just use the right amount of noise and threats to keep others at bay. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have enjoyed the security and respected that our group commanded. It wasn’t notorious too, for a couple of boys like me in the group were academically successful too.

However, we did have a fatal attraction towards some bad things. Once late in the evening, after we had a few more drinks than what we normally would have, we missed the last bus. There were six of us, and we didn’t regret missing the bus. I was thinking that we could take an autorikshaw, but Mohan suggested that we could have another couple of drinks and walk back all the way to the campus. All welcomed this and I had to remain mute.

As we approached a hotel opposite the bus station, we saw a couple of women standing behind the grilled divider and staring at us. All of us looked at them, but Mohan stared at them hard. One of the women, who was hardly five feet tall but an enormous bust, smiled at him. As we walked past them, Pavan said, “Boy! They are waiting for the customers”.

“How’d you know?” I asked him.

“I know them by sight, by instinct,” he replied somewhat proudly.

“They might have missed their bus like us or they may be waiting for someone,” I said.

Now Bhaskar intervened, “It is not the case Harsha. Did you see the basket they were holding?”

I turned back and saw that each of the two women held a basket, not a vanity bag.

“Yes, what of that?” I asked him.

“It is the trade mark. They are from rural areas. They come with a basket so that people in their villages might think they were going to the city for shopping. After the business, they do shop here,” Bhaskar replied with a wink.

Now Mohan halted abruptly, turned back and began eyeing the short woman. She was still smiling at him invitingly. Mohan decided something and said, “I am going boys. Anybody interested in joining?”

Bhaskar objected, “No brother, they do not look clean. It is not safe. Please don’t even think of it”.

“Don’t worry. I will just talk to her and come back,” saying thus he walked towards the woman.

“Mohan, do come back. Don’t do anything rash,” I too warned him. He didn’t even look back. Although he was walking straight, I knew that he was stiff.

We watched him approach the short woman and stand by her side. Although he was of average height, he seemed to tower her. We watched her making some gestures while talking to Mohan, suggesting the hotel behind her. “He won’t come back!” Pavan said for the first time.

Suddenly the woman walked towards the grilled narrow entrance of the cheap and filthy hotel located on the first floor and Mohan promptly followed her. Soon, before we could even shout to him, both of them climbed the stairs and disappeared. “Oh shit,” Bhaskar cursed while Pavan looked at us as if saying, “Didn’t I say so?” I was too astonished to say anything. Vijay too looked bewildered.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Pavan said and started going away. All of thought he was going to pick up the remaining woman. But he walked to the counter of a liquor shop, bought a quarter of whisky and poured it into a half emptied bottle of water and came back. “While we are waiting, we may as well have some sips,” he said, handing me the bottle and lit a cigarette.

I took a large gulp from the bottle and coughed because it was too strong for me. Bhaskar immediately took the bottle from me and began sipping. After a while Pavan took the bottle and handed the half smoked cigarette to Bhaskar. Barely after twenty minutes of climbing the stairs, we saw Mohan descending them. His shirt was no longer tucked into his pants. He walked very fast to join us.

“Why did you do it brother?” Bhaskar erupted in anger.

“Hey, come on, I just couldn’t resist the urge brother,” he replied calmly and lit a cigarette.

“How was she Mohan? Cooperative?” Pavan asked without any curiosity. He seemed to have that experience. He might have had some derision in his tone, which I couldn’t grasp at that time.

Mohan saw the bottle in Pavan’s hands and he almost snatched it saying, “I need a booster now.” He took a couple of sips before going back to the question that was asked of him.

“It was ok brother. But damn those women, they are too businesslike. Act as if they have absolutely no time. She didn’t even care to remove her clothes. To remove each piece of cloth on her body, she demanded a price that I couldn’t afford to pay. Then she straightaway lied on her back, lifting the sari and spreading her legs. It was over in a matter of moments.” Mohan replied glumly.

“That’s why we tried to dissuade you brother,” Pavan said.

“That and the safety reasons,” Bhaskar said which might have been regarding police raids, I thought till he added, “It is not healthy.”

“Come on boys. Nothing will happen. Forget it. Whatever it was, I needed it. I got it,” Mohan said in a conclusive tone.

“You could have always resorted to Nirupama man,” Vijay rejoined.

“What do you understand about these things mama? Men like different varieties,” Mohan said looking mockingly at Vijay.

We walked nearly six kilometers to reach our hostel close to midnight.

After three days, Mohan came to my room and said, “Harsha, I need to talk to you.”

I was alone in the room and I could guess what he was going to say. “Problem Mohan?”

To my shock he closed the door, bolted it and lifted his lungi to reveal his private part. There were boils on the tip as well as the shaft. “This, and I am having burning sensation while peeing,” He said.

“Didn’t you use any protection that day?” I enquired to which he nodded in negative.

“Well, let’s go a doctor. This can’t be ignored.”

“Now?”

“Right now!” I was glad that he had chosen me to confide in rather than Bhaskar. I was glad to help him.

We went to a private hospital, waited for a couple of hours before the doctor called us in. After examining him, the doctor wrote a prescription and sternly advised Mohan, “I hope you have learnt your lesson. You’ve been very wise to come to me immediately. It could have been worse. Never do it again, if you must, ask your parents to marry you!”

Mohan was very grateful to me that I’d taken him to the hospital in such a hurry. I told him reading from what the doctor had scribbled on the case paper, that he’d contacted urethritis, although I didn’t know what the hell it meant.

In a couple of days, Mohan said, the boils had disappeared and the painful urination had ceased. I had read a lot of these things in the meanwhile and I told him what the doctor hadn’t, “If you must, use a condom!” though I knew it was not hundred percent safe.

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

Humbug

2010-08-07T12:51:00.002+05:30

Yet another one of our seniors was Saradgi who had approached me with a request, so politely that I couldn’t refuse it. He wanted the notes in English he’d obtained from his seniors to be translated. Though my senior, he would address me as ‘sir’ and behaved very servilely. He was very submissive and worst sycophant. Although his fawning and bootlicking came on my nerves, I couldn’t refuse to help him, for saying no to the people had always been more or less impossible to me. So late every evening, after my ritual drinks and dinner, I used to go to his room and sit comfortably on his bed holding the notes while he sat on the chair drawn up to the table, taking down whatever I dictated.

Swarthy complexion, frail body and a balding head made him a very ordinary looking, if not ugly looking, person. His passion was to impress upon all those who cared to listen to him of his struggle to get education because of his poverty. He talked of his poverty so much that sometimes I felt he enjoyed doing it or that it was an obsession with him. He would talk of how he worked as a manservant doing cleaning, running errands and even dishwashing. He would frequently refer to the days when he absolutely didn’t have anything to eat. He said he was an orphan, but with the help and encouragement of some well-wishers, he had been able to complete his graduation and take admission to the master’s. He for ever sought the sympathy and help of others.

But my serendipitous mind or clairvoyance perceived him to be a humbug. He wore good quality clothes, always clean and pressed. He wore leather shoes that always shone. He shaved everyday and looked fresh anytime of the day. Where was he getting the money for all this? Once I posed this question to Sharan, his classmate. He said Saradgi was getting several money orders every month from different people. He had told all those people of his so-called miseries and all of them had been credulous enough to believe him and in good faith were sending him money to sustain him. The amount so received by Saradgi was double the money the other guys were getting from their parents.

By the time Saradgi gave me this information, I had completed almost two months in translating the notes and the task was over. He’d not offered me even so much as a cigarette for the time and energy I gave him. Of course, after hearing him pour out all his trials and tribulations, I did not expect him to even buy a cup of tea for me.

One evening I found Satish, another senior of mine, holding the photocopies of the notes that Saradgi had written to my dictation. I could recognize his handwriting immediately, for I had seen him writing for a couple of months.

“Ah, good to see that Saradgi is sharing the notes with you!”

“Yes, thanks to you all the ten of us are reading the same notes,” he replied with a smile.

“Why only ten?” I asked with curiosity.

“Because only ten have given the money. You have charged too much. Two hundred each must have been two thousand for you,” he replied.

“What! What are you talking about? I didn’t charge even a single rupee for translating,” was my shocked response.

Now Satish also looked surprised. He thought for a moment and then said, “Saradgi has collected two hundred rupees from each of ten of us, who wanted to get the notes translated. He said that you had demanded two thousand rupees for the work. We’d to contribute. Now from the look of your face, it seems you have done it free of charge and he has duped not only us, but also you.”

I was dazed at the revelation. Moreover, it hurt me hard that I had been deceived. Those boys who had given money would be blaming me that I took the money from them. They would at the same time be grateful to Saradgi for sitting every night for such a long period and taking down my dictation, in lieu of his contribution of money. In effect, he had got the work done by me absolutely free and sold to his classmates and had made a couple of thousands, a fortune in the eyes of the students. What could I do now?

“Listen Satish, now that you know what he has done, all those of you who have coughed up money, should recover it from him. I can’t ask him because he never promised me anything, nor did I ask him for anything. There was simply no deal between us. You get it?”

He considered that for a long moment. Finally he said, “I will tell the other guys about this,” and left.

I stayed looking at his back, frustrated.

***

Backlink Directory

Holi

2010-08-04T12:35:00.000+05:30

I never wanted to see some of our seniors again on the campus but that was not to be. Some of them returned as research students. Thanks to the rules, they were at least not staying in the same hostel as I did. Although I was never in their firing line, because of the solidarity of our group, I had seen them thrashing innocent boys without even an apparent reason. I had seen them threatening not only the hostelites, but also some of the teachers. They were a menace to the campus, but they enjoyed being so. They had once beaten up a conductor of the last bus that reached the campus at the stroke of midnight. Many students returning late from their native places had the advantage of reaching the campus at the cost of less than a rupee. Even for students visiting the movie houses to watch second show, the last bus was very convenient. However, after the conductor was roughed up, the service was stopped. I was certain it hardly made any difference to the culprits, but a large number of others suffered.

The day of Holi, the festival of colours, spawned terror among the teachers living on the campus. I remember being a part of the crowd of the senior hostelites that went on rampage in the campus. Most of the houses of the teachers were locked; obviously they had escaped the torture of facing the drunken students. Those who were in didn’t dare open their doors. In the hostel all types of drinks – whisky, rum, and gin -were poured in a bucket that is used for washing, and water was mixed. Everyone would drink from the mug, again used in the bathrooms, and nobody could know how much he drank. Once the buckets were emptied, the boys sufficiently stiff and uninhibited, would start playing Holi and within minutes it would be difficult to recognize who is who. All would start using obscenities and there would be hooting, roars of laughter, and mad dancing. It was permitted to act crazy for one day. All this was under the supervision and leadership of Sadanand Mane and Javed. Javed smoked grass too along with the so-called cocktails that was prepared in the bucket. He would empty a cigarette by rubbing it holding with the filter tip up and then suck the ready mix into the cigarette in one strong gasp. Amazingly, it took him hardly a few seconds to prepare it.

The procession was naturally towards the girls’ hostels, kicking and beating the doors of the already abandoned residences of teachers en route. Everyone hooted and shouted obscenities. There were some brave teachers who stayed back and opened their doors and allowed the boys to colour them and then they would give some money too. It was collected by Sadanand and was to be used for their evening parties. When nobody answered the knocks or rather kicks on the door, boys would yell at the top of their voices and someone began removing the bulbs fitted above the door or to the inside of the porch, which quickly assumed the form of a ritual. Hundreds of bulbs were collected and carried in a lungi that one of the guys had lent, happily remaining in his underwear, which fortunately was not a short, v-shaped one.

The procession reached the house of the Vice Chancellor and after one long hoot by the crowd, some one called VC addressing him politely, “Will you please come out VC sir?” One of the security guards said that the VC was not home. But who would believe him? Another fellow shouted the name of VC. Soon everyone was shouting the name of the VC. Some started shortening and distorting the name. In this part, the first name is distorted by suffixing a ‘ya’. Like ‘Basavaraj’ who is called endearingly as ‘Basu’ will be ‘Basya’ when used derogatively. It was unthinkable for me to use such derogative language for the VC, but every once seemed to enjoy it and more and more abuses flew out of the crowd. At last, the VC came out and asked, “What do you want boys? You should behave yourself. Please don’t shout,”

“It is Holi today sir. We just came to greet you sir. If you can just allow us to put some colour...” before Sadanand finished, the VC said, “I have already taken bath. But if you insist, there is no problem. Just make it quick.”

Instantly a few fellows rushed to him and in no time his face and clothes displayed all the colours. But that was not the end. Some guy had brought a battered tin box and he began to beat it in rhythm. All the boys had now surrounded the VC and started dancing. And someone had brought a safety pin, which he pressed on the bum of the VC, which made him jump and cry in pain. Some of the onlookers might have thought that the VC too was dancing with the boys, for the whole nasty business was repeated again and again till the security guard rescued the VC and took him inside.

They crazy procession retreated and continued towards the girls’ hostel. The gates were closed, but some girls were peeping through the windows of their room. I don’t know from where Javed had acquired a long staff and he held it between his legs swaying up and down. Boys started whistling, hooting and dancing behind him. It went on for another hour and the procession with Javed at the head covered all the three girls’ hostels. Just when we were crossing the third hostel, a police jeep was spotted at the corner and the procession was promptly broken. Boys ran helter-skelter and there was confusion and turmoil all around. Out of the jeep that screeched to halt just behind the disappearing crowd, two hefty constables came out waving their canes. I thought a couple of guys got some blows. My group had slowed down after the procession had crossed the second girls’ hostel and was left far behind in the procession, due to which we were fortunately saved.

The Mentor

2010-07-29T13:11:00.000+05:30

What a contrast my life in the campus was to the one I had in my college! While in the college I was always engaged in reading, writing and participating in seminars, now it was as if I had forgotten all these things. I used to have so many questions to the teachers in the college, often leading to fierce arguments, in the university there was very little of such activity. In fact, one of the teachers asked in the class openly not to read “Politics Among Nations” about which he was delivering a lecture. It was a different matter that I had read it way back while I was an undergraduate. A good teacher would never discourage a student from reading the original works. While in the college I had only a couple of friends, now I had too many. At times I felt life on the campus was purposeless, directionless and therefore useless!

We had another teacher who spoke in telegraphic language, for apparently he was not very comfortable with English. He would begin his lecture always with the headlines in the newspaper that day. He used to say it was for ‘refreshment’. He was teaching theoretical aspects of public administration, but during the whole year he never really touched the core of the subject. He used to ask students to have a set format for any topic – introduction, body, criticism and conclusion – in that order. But yet he was a very popular teacher because it all looked so easy to the students when he explained in his telegraphic language and gestures. Moreover, some of his jokes were below the belt in a very subtle way that caught the admiration of the students. Once Virupakshappa answered a question in Kannada and I repeated the same in English using the academic jargon. When he appreciated me, Virupakshappa in protested that he’d given the same reply. The teacher explained, “ See, one not good looking girl -in bad fitting clothes -nobody notice. But same girl wearing miniskirt and t-shirt, high heels- everyone will watch.” The boys understood the difference immediately and there was laughter all around.

There was another teacher, who was known to be very soft on girls and usually understood to be weakness for the fairer sex. The practice was to call the second names of the students while taking attendance. He began addressing the girls with their first name. We had watched Vani going very often to his chamber for god knew what. Her complete name was Vanishree Moraba and he used to call her Miss Moraba in the beginning. One day while taking the attendance, he called her “Vani” and I exchanged a knowing smile with Vijay and Bhaskar, which he noticed. He immediately gathered his notes and the attendance register and left the class.

Everyone knew it was because of me that he had walked out, so I had to go to his chamber to apologize. Upon my entering his chamber he said calmly, “Mr.Harsha, I know that you are well-read and intelligent. I cannot come to your standards. You better stop attending my class. I will give you full attendance, you needn’t worry.”

I was perplexed. Although I didn’t mean it, I said, “Sir, I am really benefited by your lecture. I didn’t mean to offend you at all. Please forgive me. It won’t repeat, I promise,” and I came out. Next day I attended his class and he acted as if nothing had happened.

Yet another teacher wore very peculiar combination of clothes. He was a tall man and his trousers were always an inch shorter exposing his socks. He wore a bright red blazer over off white shirt and sometimes a tie that was as wide as a handkerchief. He stood at the edge of the dais with his crotch thrust forward. He would frequently scratch his crotch too. He spoke good English although he tended to be verbose, but he spoke it as if he spoke in Kannada. He loved to use such words as ‘hooliganism’, and ‘pusillanimous’ and his language, mannerisms all looked comical to the boys. Once he rubbed the black board with his hands and scratched his crotch with the hands covered with chalk powder. Unfortunately he was wearing dark pants on that day!

Not that all teachers were bad or funny or uninspiring. One particularly was excellent. He had a highly analytical mind and very logically cogent approach and expression. He made matters so simple by his exposition that one could never fail to grasp the subject and it would be firmly settled in the recesses of the memory. He was witty too, but his humour was of a very high order. After attending one of his brilliant lectures, I understood what I had not been able to comprehend after years of studying political philosophy. Giving several illustrations, he asked us to approach any political philosophy with the fundamental question of political obligation, asking the basic question why people should obey the dictates of the state. He taught us to have a clinical indifference and impartiality towards the subject under probe and never to let our own values to interfere with our conclusions. His love, compassion and concern for the students too was well known and I felt to have been fortunate to experience it myself. He was a great mentor, beyond all doubts.

Peer Pressure

2010-07-28T16:12:00.000+05:30

The second year started in the right earnest and now we were the seniors in the hostel as well as the department. I spent a month of my vacation after Virupakshappa’s marriage quietly at home, reading novels, listening to ghazals and watching Door Darshan the only TV channel that was available at that time, once in a while. Hot and humid summer with scorching heat turned into a pleasant cool weather by the second week of June when we returned to the campus for the second year. The campus I had left dry with bear landscape and leafless trees with the exception of a few sturdy varieties of trees, welcomed us fully covered with greenery and rich foliage. Admissions to the first year had started and quite a lot of new and anxious faces with dreamy eyes were to be seen in the crowds near the bus stop and the banks where the students were required to pay their fees.

Mohan and Bhaskar were very intimate with the clerk of the hostel and they managed to get three rooms for us in a row on the ground floor. I was to stay again with Vijay. Mohan and Bhaskar stayed in one room and Virupakshappa and Suresh Hiremath occupied the last room. I welcomed it for I had got used to staying with Vijay. He never touched anything that belonged to me, nor did I touch his things. Mohan and Bhaskar however, were in the habit of sharing everything, starting with a cigarette. I didn’t like to do that with anyone. If I were to share a cigarette, I would smoke the first half and then hand it over to Mohan or Bhaskar and never take it back for another puff. They perhaps never noticed this, for I would light another cigarette immediately. Pavan came to stay in the hostel but he got a room on the first floor and he had a new roommate, who was also from Ranebennur. He was in fact several years older, but looked younger than most of us, with his fair complexion, slender build, and clean-shaven upper lip. He wore very bright colours, which suited him well and he was a very ostentatious and spoiled dandy. He used to shave twice a day and never allowed even a micro millimeter growth of facial hair. Pavan used to joke that, Patel, that was the name of the dandy, might forgo taking bath, but would never miss shaving for anything in the world. He maintained an album, much like a model does, in which there were hundreds of photographs showing him at different locations in different poses, wearing a variety of clothes of all hues and colours, mostly bright. After completing one-year course in library science, Pavan had taken admission to MA in Political Science and Patel too had joined the same course. They were totally opposite to each other in all respects, but still made good roommates.

Suresh Hiremath was a very humble and servile person. He would address almost everyone as ‘sir’ and try to please all. He could be an errand boy, fetching water, cigarettes, bidis, and ghutka for all others and would not hesitate to act as a waiter to me, filling my glass with soda or water, carrying my plates and doing such things as a waiter is paid to. Everyone considered him a very gentleman at heart though poor, and kind and compassionate to all. Since he belonged to the priestly class among the Lingayats, before going to face the examination, Bhaskar and some others used to touch his feet seeking blessings. He was of average intelligence and had poor knowledge of English. And he needed my help to get the notes that he had acquired from our seniors, translated into Kannada. So he would do anything to humour me, please me and keep me in good mood to help him out.

Nagesh Patil, a classmate of ours was elected unopposed as the class representative as nobody contested his nomination. To my astonishment, Mohan too didn’t contest. Nobody wanted to do the donkeywork that a CR is supposed to do; to arrange functions, seminars and tours, and run errands for teachers etc. Nagesh was interested in becoming the General Secretary of the University for which it was precondition to be the CR first. Much later I came to know that Mohan had made a pact with a bunch of guys who wanted to install Nagesh as the General Secretary. What Mohan would gain by this, I could never understand, but I could see that he without becoming a CR, he could continue to do what a CR is supposed to do, for Nagesh wanted the larger stage.

I would write Mohan’s welcome speeches and vote of thanks, depending upon what he was called upon to do. He would just read them, but he loved to be recognized as a leader. He simply adored himself and liked to be appreciated. Who does not? But he couldn’t even write a sentence in Kannada without spelling mistakes or grammatical errors. He wasn’t alone to be in such a desperate state. Hundreds of students, I used to wonder, who came for a master’s degree, couldn’t read and write satisfactorily. Mohan could speak well, take decisions for others, but academically he wasn’t up to the mark. But still there was something about him that fascinated all those that he came in contact with. It might have been his looks, his robust voice, and his attitude. He never considered anyone unimportant and spoke to friends exuding real concern and care. That was how he could make friends in all the departments of the university and now aspired to be the kingmaker in the elections to the post of General Secretary. He got too busy in the hustings and only Bhaskar joined him. I never liked politics or election campaign, and was against such things being permitted in an educational institution. Moreover, I hated those spoilt brats of rich people, who flaunted their bikes, wind sweaters, jackets, and money. They flaunted their contempt for the pursuit of knowledge, the good students, with blissful ignorance. How could Mohan, who had great respect for my academic achievements, mingle with them? I hated him for that.

Every evening they would pick up the CR’s of most of the departments and take them to a bar and restaurant, and entertain them with drinks and food. I suspected that Mohan and Bhaskar were after free drinks and food. For nearly a month Mohan and Bhaskar were not around with us. It was Vijay and Suresh who were always with me and they shared my distaste for elections in the campus. Since the elections involved only the CR’s, largely the campus remained unaffected.

However, our group still felt incomplete and I pined for the presence of Mohan. Vijay and Suresh could not make up for his absence. Nothing could make up for his loud laugh, hilarious jokes and anecdotes. We missed Bhaskar’s wit and sarcasm too. I just hoped that the elections would be over soon and they will be back with us.

Nagesh, as expected got elected and on the day of the elections, Mohan took all of us along with him to the victory celebrations. The party was arranged in a small hotel and the followers, campaign managers and friends of Nagesh occupied all the tables. I congratulated Nagesh who received me warmly and felt guilty about not having helped him in the election. He didn’t seem to mind that I had kept aloof from the campaign. Our group, with me at the head of the table, sat in a secluded cubicle. The liquor was whisky smuggled from Goa. Chicken tikka and boiled peanuts were served. The honour of opening the first bottle was mine and as I poured the liquor for Mohan, Bhaskar, Pavan, and myself. Vijay, Suresh didn’t drink and Patel too said he didn’t drink.

Bhaskar placed a glass before Vijay and said, “Tonight Mama will also drink.”

Vijay protested. Bhaskar would not listen. He began teasing Vijay and Suresh. “Aren’t you both men? Even college boys drink these days,” he said mockingly.

“Who said they are men? Forget them,” Mohan added.

Vijay got angry and said testily, “What you people are doing now, I have done it years before you.”

Bhaskar laughed again teasingly and said, “Mama, you can’t even tolerate a single peg.”

“It’s been our policy not to force anyone to drink Bhaskar,” I reminded him.

“I am not forcing anyone Harsha. I am just voicing my opinion. You see these three don’t drink because they know they cannot,” replied he.

“Well, I can,” Patel said and pushed a glass towards me.

“Great!” exclaimed Bhaskar, and added, “See, he doesn’t even have a moustache!”

This didn’t have any effect on Vijay, but Suresh was irked. “Bhaskar, if challenged I can drink more than you,” he blurted.

“I am challenging you man!”

“Ok then. I will drink one quarter neat in one sip. Can you?” Suresh challenged.

“Ah, you can’t be serious Suresh. You can’t do it. But still if you want to do it, you will first face Pavan,” Bhaskar pushed Pavan ahead in order to escape and he knew that Pavan was used to drinking neat.

Mohan took the bottle from me and poured 3 pegs each in two glasses and kept them in the middle. “Now, let’s see if you can do it!”

Both Pavan and Suresh lifted their glasses. Mohan counted, “One, two, three. Go!” Both of them emptied their glasses in one sip and gasped!

“By God! I can’t believe Suresh could do it!” Vijay said with amazement. Suresh, although looking calm, was gradually getting the kick. He said, “Mama, you too must join now. Just one sip ok?”

Vijay not only had his first drink that evening, but he also smoked a cigarette. When we were all busy discussing election, teachers and girls, nobody noticed when Suresh and Pavan slipped out and came back relieved!

*** *** **

The Real Surprise!

2010-07-21T11:00:00.003+05:30

It was a very simple ceremony, the marriage of Virupakshappa. The bride was just about eighteen with a childlike face. Virupakshappa was very happy, though he looked embarrassed to face us. He wanted to wait till he lands a good job before getting married, but he had to bow to the pressure that was brought to bear on him by his mother.

It was a small village temple where the marriage took place, and attended by a decent crowd of not more than a couple of hundreds of people, mostly relatives and a small number of friends and acquaintances. Naturally, Mohan took the lead in getting the bridegroom ready, making several suggestions. Nirupama and Vani, surprisingly, didn’t mix with the women folk and stuck to our groups. Several brows were raised, for it was very unconventional to find unmarried girls in the company of boys, the village being very conservative in its outlook. There were whispers, and giggles. Some village elders stared at us with disapproval. The fact that the girls had stayed in a hotel had already traveled to the village and it was a no-no thing in a village. It would’ve been proper for the girls to stay in a house, under the supervision and watchful gaze of the elders. Much later, when Virupakshappa returned to the hostel for the final year, he confided in me that he too had to face a lot of unpleasant and embarrassing questions from the old folk. Right there, I could hear some people muttering with a sigh of resignation, “The times have indeed changed!”

After partaking feast with the hosts, and to the relief of Virupakshappa, we left for Mantralaya in a state transport bus. It was one of the worst roads I had ever seen; full of potholes and at some places the road itself disappeared. Since I was sitting in the last row at the back, I was, every now and then thrown up in the air, reminding me of Walt Disney cartoon movies. I never in fact was seated, but was constantly in the air, the seat touching my bum every now and then!

At Mantralaya, popularized by a Kannada movie in Karnataka, I saw that the summer had really hit hard. The river Tunga was looked like a small stream with muddy waters. Though it is considered that bathing in the waters of Tunga is equal to taking a dip in the holy river Ganga, none of us could think of bathing there. I being an apostate, hardly could bring myself to even touching the water there. The temple or the Rayara Matha was crowded. There wasn’t any architectural beauty in the old building. The priests asked us to remove the shirts, and I jokingly asked them if I had to remove my pants also. I spoke in Kannada thinking nobody would understand, but the priest glared at me. An old man who was standing behind me in the queue said, “Everyone understands Kannada here!”

Later at four in the afternoon, we caught a bus to Ranebennur. It was a circuitous route for me to reach Belgaum, but all my friends insisted that I should go with them, stay at Ranebennur overnight and continue my journey the next day, to which I agreed because I won’t be alone for at least half of my journey.

My legs had stiffened and body was aching when we alighted at Ranebennur, late in the evening, a while after ten. The girls took an autorikshaw and said good night to us. I didn’t care to ask where they went, for by now I had come to regard them as irritants since they grabbed most of the attention of the group. Above all, in them I could see my own failure that I dreaded most.

Ranebennur, though a small town, was and still is a vibrant town. It is a business center with a very large floating population. It had only a couple of hotels during those days where one could put up. We booked ourselves two rooms in a hotel, which had a bar nearby. I badly needed a drink, so did Mohan and Bhaskar. Compelled by us not to leave for his village, Vijay needed food equally badly. We decided to order drinks and food in our rooms.

“Tell me, wasn’t there any resistance from her?” Mohan asked after finishing his first drink. It was like a prompt to Bhaskar, who, as if waiting for it since the girls left, lighted a cigarette and began.

“There was really stiff resistance,” Even if Vani herself had invited him to the bed, he wouldn’t say so, thought I. “I knew that she was not going to allow me do anything to her. That is why I had chalked our a plan well before I went into her room.”

He would never come to the point straightaway. He would always have an elaborate introductory part in his narration. And the right type of dramatics to deliver it!

“I entered her room and closed the door behind me. She was wearing a nightgown and was sitting on the bed, pretending to be reading a book that she had brought. I pulled a chair near her bed and sat. She looked up and asked if I wasn’t sleepy. ‘I can’t sleep tonight. How can I when Mohan is locked up with Nirupama in that room?’ I asked her. ‘Is it any of your business?’ she asked me. ‘Of course it is none of my business. But it bothers me’ I told her. She sat silently for a while, and then asked, ‘Why does it bother you? Are you concerned about Nirupama or Mohan?’ she kept the book by the side of the pillow.” Bhaskar took a big sip from his glass.

“’Neither,’ I said, ‘I am concerned about me’ and took the book from her bed and asked, ‘What are you reading?’ She snatched it from me and said it is a book meant for girls. I said, ‘If you’d asked me, I’d have brought books meant to be read together by you and me!’ She blushed and I felt encouraged and took her hand. But she withdrew and said, ‘Don’t touch me. I am not like Nirupama okay?’”

Bhaskar paused to empty and refill his glass. Taking the opportunity, I said, “She must be just putting up an act buddy.”

“I don’t think so,” Bhaskar said quickly, for accepting my statement would take away the importance of his act. “I again took her hand and this time held it firmly and said, ‘Don’t be silly. What is wrong in being like her? Aren’t they enjoying?’ She angrily replied, ‘ I don’t want such enjoyment. Please go to Vijay’s room.’ I said, ‘Okay, okay, calm down. I will sit here for a while and then go.’ And sat there silently for a full five minutes.”

“So you sat there silently and then slept there on the floor?” Vijay asked mockingly, using the pause Bhaskar took to drink.

“Mama, why do you think I asked her to permit me to sit there for five minutes? It requires gray cells in your brain. After five minutes, I told her, ‘Vani, I have been in your room for more than 15 minutes now. I will walk out, but who would believe that I did nothing to you? Even I may tell all the people that we made love and that would suffice,” Bhaskar gave a wide victorious smile.

“Oh ho!” Vijay nodded with amazement.

“After that everything was simple. I climbed on the cot and kissed her, she closed her eyes and began to enjoy,” Bhaskar closed his eyes as if reliving the experience.

“Was she a virgin?” Mohan asked.

“Yes, I am sure she was. She cried out so loudly with every stroke that I had to shut her mouth…” Bhaskar said, “Just as we watch in a BF.”

“Right then, the second wicket has fallen!” was all I could manage to mutter.

Virupakshappa’s wedding was no surprise, but Bhaskar’s campaign certainly was!

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Virupakshappa's Wedding Surprise

2010-07-07T12:42:00.004+05:30

The months preceding the annual examinations affected the routine for the remaining members of the group, yet for me it changed only a bit. Every morning by nine we all started visiting the university library. Though there were no holidays, nobody attended the classes. I had expected the master’s examination to be different from the undergraduate examination but it was not so. The same pattern of answering five questions out of ten in three hours time, with one or two questions mandatory to be answered, was followed. If one studied a couple of previous years’ question papers, one could easily find out that the questions covered only the first couple of chapters in each subject. The questions tested only the memory of the students and there was hardly any question intended to test the reasoning power of the students. It was amazing that even then the students feared the examinations and for many, the only aim was to get a second class by scoring fifty percent, for then alone they would be eligible for the post of a lecturer. Only a microscopic minority of students had a vision of undertaking research leading to the doctorate degree. I used to wonder why such mediocrity prevailed among the large majority of students and teachers.

Since all friends would be in the library, I inevitably had to spend much of my time during the day in the library, making best use of the opportunity to read whatever caught my fancy- encyclopedias, novels, philosophy, logic, sociology, and so on. On the stairs of the library where we sat to have some chat during short intervals that we took to refresh ourselves, I became a lecturer, answering the questions and clearing the doubts of my friends, not that there were many.

So, it was a very dull period for me till the examinations are over and on the last day of the examination, Virupakshappa invited all of us to his marriage ceremony to be held in his native village near Raichur. It was scheduled on the fifth of May and all of us decided to meet in Raichur, in the hotel that would be booked for us.

All others left for vacation following the examinations, but I still had to attend another examination, that of diploma but I didn’t want to stay alone in the hostel. Luckily for me, Pavan invited me to stay with him in his rented room, located not far from the campus. I thankfully accepted the offer, for he was a great company for spending the evening. This was the time when he became one of the close friends of mine. Although he had studied with Mohan and Bhaskar in the same college as they had, he unlike Bhaskar was not a follower of Mohan and for some of his eccentricities, he was shunned by both Bhaskar and Mohan to some extent. However, he certainly was a friend of theirs and could easily belong to the group, had he not joined some other department in the university, and had he not chosen to stay in a rented room instead of staying in the hostel.

On the fourth of May, I reached Hubli bus station in the evening and found out that the bus to Raichur will depart at 8 p.m. I had about an hour to wait and the best way to wait was to sit in a bar. The bars and restaurants near the bus station are always full and so noisy that I finished one and a half peg of my drink in no time, sitting on the bar stool near the counter. I decided against having my dinner and instead ate a couple of burgers in an Iyengar bakery.

The platform where my bus would come was crowded, and being near the lavatory, the air was stinking with the smell of urine. I decided to move away from the place and went near the main gate. A couple of ladies wearing heavy make up and bright red lipstick smiled at me expectantly. Without realizing that they were looking for customers, I smiled back, then immediately I moved back to my platform.

When the bus came to halt in its reverse movement, I was right at the door and was the first one to enter as soon as it was opened by the conductor. I sat by the window comfortably, purchased my ticket and when the bus started, was lulled into sleep. I was eagerly waiting to meet my friends in Raichur, but did not expect the girls to come that far to attend a marriage. A surprise, not a pleasant one, was waiting for me in the hotel at Raichur.

***

It was after three in the morning when I got down from the bus. Virupakshappa had told us that the name of the hotel was ‘Sindhoor’ and it was just five-minute walk from the bus station. The streets were almost deserted but for a few passengers who had come out of bus station hailing and alighting autorikshaws. In the distance, I could read the hoarding of the hotel Sindhoor. A fellow, who must have been the clerk of the hotel, was fast asleep on a bench there, covering his whole body with a black blanket and covering his head and most of his facial area with a monkey-cap. He responded the rattling sound of the grilled gate and sat up. On enquiry, he told me that I was to go to room number 121 on the first floor. I climbed the stairs and found that 121 was on the extreme end of the corridor on the right. When I knocked a couple of times, the door opened and there stood Vijay, rubbing his eyes, which had reddened due to lack of sleep, perhaps.

“Come on in. You are late,” he welcomed me trying to bring a smile on his sleepy face.

“ I couldn’t have come earlier,” I replied entering the room. It was a ten by twelve room with two beds, a dressing table, teapoy, and a chair. The bed sheets were white and clean. A ceiling fan was circulating the hot air in the room with noise. It was very hot, so hot that the bed felt like a frying pan. As I sat on my bed, I asked, “Who else has come?”

He sat in the chair and yawned, cleared his throat and said, “Mohan and Nirupama, Bhaskar and Vani”

I looked up at him, surprised by the way he put it. He continued with a jeer in his tone, “Yes, tonight they are couples. In 123, Mohan and Nirupama are staying and in 125, Bhaskar and Vani.”

“What!”

He seemed to enjoy the startled look on my face. “Yes, Bhaskar and Vani are having their first night!”

“My Goodness…” I sat silently for several minutes trying to absorb the shock. “So the second wicket has fallen,” I said at long last.

“But I don’t think it is the first match, neither for Bhaskar nor for Vani!” he replied with a grin.

“But how could it happen?” I queried although the reply was obvious.

“Three rooms have been booked. Mohan and Nirupama occupied one, Bhaskar and I came to this room and Vani was staying alone. Bhaskar went to her room about 2 hours ago and has not returned.”

“Of course he was drunk”

“Of course”

“Nice reception I had. I need a drink badly now”

“You won’t get even water to drink at this hour in this hotel”

“I expected it to be so. I carry my own drink,” I said and opened my briefcase. I had brought a full bottle of gin.

“You can just go to bed Harsha. It is very odd time to drink,” he said compassionately.

“No I can’t. I am damned tired. I will only have a couple of drinks, that’s all.”

I took the glass that rested on the teapot upturned and poured a large measure of gin. Vijay filled the rest of the glass with the water from the jug. I emptied the glass in just three sips and the liquid entered my stomach, burning all the way from the throat, but the anger, anguish, envy, rage, disappointment and disdain that I experienced burned me far more than the liquor did. Be cool. Be cool. I told myself as I poured another large into my glass.

“Go slow, what’s the hurry?” Vijay asked as he mixed water in the gin.

“Got to catch some sleep. What time are we leaving tomorrow?” I asked him in reply, an effort to change the subject under conversation.

“Virupakshappa said he would send a vehicle at 8 in the morning. He had come here last evening though he is not supposed to come out of his house after the Haldi Ceremony. He was enquiring about you.”

I quickly finished my second drink too and started perspiring due to the heat outside as well as within. “Damn the weather here!” I cursed wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. “Any one else is coming?” I asked Vijay.

“No, as far as I know. The school and college buddies of Virupakshappa have all come, and were staring at us, especially Mohan and Nirupama as if they were aliens. It was embarrassing.”

“Well, let them enjoy. Let us catch some sleep now,” I said as if concluding. “Right,” said he and rose to switch off the light.

I felt more comfortable in the dark. At least I won’t have to make any effort to conceal the expressions that might show on my face, thought I. Had I known that this was going to happen, I would have stayed away, called off my trip and kept peace of my mind. But I couldn’t have missed a friend’s marriage, could I? First Mohan took away Nirupama, now Bhaskar took away Vani. What do I mean took away? They didn’t take away anything from me. Nirupama and Vani are free individuals, for God’s sake, and they chose what they like. Why should I feel hurt or betrayed? Nobody had betrayed me. I won’t have any pleasure because of my own moral high ground, my self-rectitude. I do not deserve any pleasure. I have never been hedonistic. At best, I can congratulate Bhaskar for catching up with his leader. God, I hate myself, to be grieving over such trivial matters. I went on cursing myself till sleep took over me.

***