A trip down the memory lane…

It was a dismal afternoon in the early summer of 1977 when my partner and I were sitting in Sridhar’s house wondering why Shanthi was moving like molasses in her kitchen and if and when the uppuma was ever going to show up. We remained nonchalant despite growling stomachs and violent protests from our gastro-intestinal tracks. We kept our composure and at the same time kept our grey matter quite busy, with assist from a shared cigarette, studiously mulling various life options. The signs were clear even in those earlier days that we two were incontestably cerebral and destined for a sure place in the annals of history. The neurons in our brains were firing at lightning speeds and many discerning observers reportedly saw sparks coming out of our ears. I am digressing though.

The sun had begun to set and the darkness was creeping in and the birds were chirping about retiring to their nest. There was no news from the kitchen yet. That is when we both heard a distant sound of an approaching motorbike. It was you. You slammed the brakes, parked the bike and dismounted in a hurry that made us wonder if your aging office receptionist was chasing you with a matrimonial offer. Your hair was disheveled and you wore the look of someone who was clearly distressed about something. Shrewd observers that we were, we took in the enormity of the situation and gave you the last two remaining puffs of the cigarette that we were sharing to put you at ease. There were tears of appreciation in your eyes but true to form you wanted to know if that was the cigarette you had left behind the previous day and how we found out as it was hidden under the mattress? You were so agitated that we could see the body tremors were sending off plumes of dust off your shirt your motorbike journey on Chennai roads had deposited on you.

We realized the time was precious as you closely resembled a ticking time bomb. We together blurted out “what is wrong with you? Spit it out”. A tactical blunder for not realizing you still had that cigarette butt we had so generously parted company with was still in your mouth. I am digressing again.

After giving the boot to the cigarette butt in your mouth in a single abrupt move, you told us that the matter was serious and you needed help. Shanthi who now appeared stood framed in the kitchen door and wanted to know if it was uppuma that we wanted. We both did not know what was more important at that stage but showed great dignity and persisted with our questioning of you.

We made some callous, insensitive remarks as is our wont for a minute but rallied quickly to our senses. We calmly assured you that you had reached your desired destination and the best minds in the business were going to give you the advice of your lifetime. We then broached the idea of us going to Darjeeling to carefully weigh the options as the oppressive heat and clammy weather were inimical to such an endeavor.   

We had known that idea killers and dream assassins were on the prowl but were little prepared for the person to appear in flesh in your persona that afternoon. You derided the idea with such vehemence that made Shanthi come out of the kitchen to ask us if we wanted anything to eat and what the din was all about. We pleaded our case to you and made a compelling presentation on the benefits of such a move. You stood your ground and this forever changed the course of your life by not listening to a pair of trained minds. We both know you regret this decision of yours till this day and spent many sleepless nights wondering how to apologize to us.  

Shanthi made her final appearance of the day and wanted to know if anyone was hungry. That is when passersby noticed two people who had just blown their gaskets rushing out in agony.