by Vasudhendra
At first he used to pity himself for his desperate hankering for food at Gururaja’s house. He would say a strict no and then go to a nearby Darshini, the fast-food chain, for dinner. But of late, if someone offered him home-made food, he ate it without leaving a tiny bit on his plate. Sometimes, he even asked for a second serving without hesitation.
Gururaja understood his friend’s pain and loneliness all too well. So, without raking up his woes, he would, in his authority as a friend, often ask him to eat at his place. They had been close friends for the last fifteen years, right from their college days. Mohanaswamy took comfort in the fact that he was not physically drawn to this friend. It was a matter of great relief that though he shared a bed with Gururaja on several occasions, he never felt the urge to touch him. In the past, many friendships had gone sour in a moment that Mohanaswamy then regretted for months. His efforts to mend these broken bonds would be in vain. He was constantly afraid that he would lose all his friends one day and would be shrouded in loneliness. ‘How will I live without friends? Hey Krishna, save my friendship with Gururaja. May my evil eye not befall him,’ he often prayed.
Some young boys had come to Gururaja’s house that evening. Clad in dhotis and bright shalyas and wearing naama – religious identification marks – prominently on their bodies, the boys were evidently busy. Gururaja’s mother explained the occasion, ‘Today is Subraya’s Shrashti. I have invited five bachelor boys to hand them the offering of sacred thread and a towel. I have been afflicted with Naga Dosha since birth. It seems my grandfather had killed a pair of cobras while building a house. That curse came upon me. I remained unmarried for many years. Finally, somebody advised me to observe Subraya’s Shrashti, and I did. It paid off. I got a proposal, got married and had children. Since then I have been observing this rite every year without fail.’
Gururaja’s wife served hot dosas to Mohanaswamy. ‘We won’t get to see him for the next four years. He is going abroad. Serve him more dosas,’ Gururaja told her, extending warm hospitality to his friend. Gururaja’s little son Aniketa was sitting on Mohanaswamy’s lap, pulling off his spectacles and knocking off the pen, paper chits and mobile phone from his pocket. Mohanaswamy fondly took the child’s tiny hands in his hand and brushed them against his cheeks, enjoying the divine touch. ‘Anee, don’t trouble Uncle,’ Gururaja chided, but the child continued playing, with intermittent peals of laughter. Every now and then, he pestered Mohanaswamy for a piece of dosa. But Mohanaswamy did not dare to place even a morsel from his plate into the boy’s mouth. ‘Go ask your mother. You are a good boy, aren’t you?’ he consoled the child.
Suddenly a thought flashed through Gururaja’s mind. ‘Mohana, you said you won’t be coming back for the next four or five years. Why don’t you buy yourself an apartment before you leave? I’m sure money won’t be a problem. You can even apply for a loan if required. By the time you are back, the loan amount would have shrunk considerably. And you would have your own house to live in!’ he said.
Mohanaswamy panicked at the idea. He had never thought of buying a house. All his friends had already bought houses and held house-warming ceremonies, serving sumptuous meals to guests. Mohanaswamy had attended all these ceremonies, giving gifts and savouring food to his heart’s content.
He remembered Gururaja narrating the difficulties of building a house. He used to take Mohanaswamy along with him for some work or the other like giving documents to contractors, buying lamps from Avenue Road, meeting a lawyer at his office on St Marks Road and so on. But Mohanaswamy never felt the urge to have his own house. It did not seem relevant to him. When his parents were alive, they had raised the matter a couple of times, but after their death, there was no one to bring it up again.
‘What will I do with a house? It is meant for family men like you,’ he said, laughing sheepishly.
‘A bachelor or a family man, shelling out large sums of money for house rent in this damned city is nothing but foolishness. If you have a roof over your head, it gives you so much peace of mind. Don’t go for an independent house. A flat in an apartment complex will serve your needs better. Security and maintenance won’t be a headache. A good complex is coming up about four kilometres away from here and I have heard many people in my office booking flats there. You should book one for yourself before going abroad. You can either come back for registration, or I will get it done for you,’ Gururaja urged him.
Mohanaswamy considered the proposal for a while. If he owned a house he wouldn’t have to put up with pesky landlords, he thought. Of course, landlords had never really troubled him so far. He left for office in the morning only to return in the evening. Moreover, he had a predilection for keeping the house spotlessly clean. He used minimum water, created no nuisance and paid rent promptly every month, even agreeing to the ten per cent annual increment. Which landlord wouldn’t like to have such a tenant? Even then, wasn’t it better to have one’s own house?
Right then Gururaja’s mother interrupted his thoughts. ‘Mohana, you have come at the right time. We had invited five brahmachari boys for the puja, but only four turned up. You be the fifth one and accept the tambula,’ she said.
He was quite embarrassed. ‘Aunty, I am already thirty-five. How can you count me as a brahmachari?’ he asked with bashful smile.
‘So what, you aren’t married yet, right? That makes you a brahmachari. Now don’t delay my puja. Come, accept the offering of sacred thread and towel,’ she instructed.
He looked at Gururaja. ‘Go and take it, nothing will happen,’ Gururaja said.
Mohanaswamy sat with those four young boys and received the tambula. The boys chuckled, looking at the uncle sitting next to them, almost their fathers’ age. Mohanaswamy was amused too and laughed along with them. After accepting the offerings, the boys bent low in obeisance to Gururaja’s mother. She blessed them saying, ‘Study well and pass with good marks.’ But when Mohanaswamy bowed, she pronounced, ‘Get married soon.’
The mention of marriage didn’t scare Mohanaswamy these days. Instead, a hope sprang up in his heart. How beautiful life would be if this mother’s blessings brought about a miraculous change in me, kindling a desire for females, he thought. Then I too could get married and settle down! He dreamt on, but soon realized the futility of his musings. ‘May your wish come true, Aunty. Then I will buy you whatever you demand,’ said Mohanaswamy.
‘You just say yes, and I will put a garland of brides around your neck!’ she said with a laugh and went inside.
‘Oye, will you get married?’ Gururaja asked, teasing his friend.
‘You keep quiet my friend, don’t make fun of me,’ Mohanaswamy said in his old usual style.
When Mohanaswamy was preparing to leave, Gururaja insisted again that he should immediately go to the apartment complex and look for a flat. Knowing that his dear friend wouldn’t relent, Mohanaswamy decided to give it a go. ‘You please come with me,’ he requested Gururaja, but he was busy. ‘My wife wants me to go with her to some place, Mohana. You go and see the house. Just make sure that water, electricity, generator, lift and all other amenities are in place. I will give you some more tips tonight, ’ he said.
Mohanaswamy did not feel all that bad. About seven-eight years ago, he wouldn’t go anywhere without the company of his friends. Be it for going to a shop to buy a handkerchief or to see a movie or to a restaurant for coffee, he would need some company. He would forget the whole world, prattling, laughing and arguing with them. But as time passed, all his friends got married and were no longer easily available. Whenever he phoned them, they would speak for a while and hang up, saying ‘I am a little busy, will call you later’. In a couple of years, they all had children. Then they were not even available on phone.
So Mohanaswamy started getting used to being alone and feeling lonely. Initially he would stay home, doing nothing. But for how long could he live like that? Left with no option, he began going out alone, for movies, to buy clothes and even to tourist spots. At first, he f
elt frightened to roam around all by himself. When he sat in an ice-cream parlour polishing off a big Gudbud alone, he felt uneasy and the ice-cream tasted bitter. He felt like everyone in the parlour was staring at him. But slowly he got used to all this. He reminded himself that he was completely free now – he could go home at any hour, he could wake up late and he could go anywhere – there was no one to question him. Yet sometimes his loneliness would bring him a lot of misery.
One day in office, he suddenly developed a severe stomach ache. He doubled up with pain. He had never had it so bad before. He couldn’t even walk. His colleagues were about to call in a doctor when the pain subsided. Full of fear and anxiety, he went to a hospital the next day.
Mohanaswamy loved hospitals. Doctors and nurses speak to you with so much concern! You become their centre of attention. ‘Does it pain?’ nurses ask you with so much care! Doctors too listen to you with rapt attention.
After examining Mohanaswamy, the doctor asked him to get an endoscopy done. And so he bravely went to the hospital again the next day, all alone. His stomach had been completely empty from the previous night. He didn’t have a clue about endoscopy. He had imagined that it must be something akin to a blood test or a BP check-up. But it was not that simple. The test required him to lie down on the bed with his hands and legs strapped up. A long rubber pipe would be slipped into his stomach through his mouth. A camera affixed to the end of the pipe would scan the inside of his abdomen and display the images on the screen.
The nurse had to struggle a lot to insert the pipe into Mohanaswamy’s stomach. Whenever the pipe slid past his throat, he panicked, writhing in acute agony. He wanted to take the pipe out and throw it away, but he couldn’t do so as his hands and legs were tied. He squirmed in pain and the nurse had to take out the pipe. Though he was on an empty stomach, he threw up some water and that caused further pain.
‘You must relax. Otherwise we won’t be able to do the test,’ the nurse told him repeatedly. But no matter how hard he tried to stay composed, the moment the pipe went inside his throat, he felt like he was at death’s door and he panicked. It took over forty-five minutes for the test to get over. Finally, after the test was over, his limbs were quivering. ‘Sir, please relax for a while. Why did you come alone? You should have brought someone along,’ the nurse said wearily.
When he came out and sat down on a chair to relax, he was overwhelmed with sorrow. I should have brought a friend along, he said to himself. But who would have come with him, taking leave from office? He felt dejected. The only solace was that the doctors who went over his medical reports told him, ‘You are fine. You don’t have any serious problem. The stomach ache was due to gas trouble, that’s all.’
So they sent him away. Mohanaswamy knew that if his health ever took a bad turn, he would be done for and would die alone. Such was his plight that even if he was down with a slight fever, there was no one to boil some gruel for him. No one to remind him to take his medicines in time. And no one to take him to a doctor. So it was imperative that he did not fall sick. Mohanaswamy therefore became more careful and conscious about his health.
But today, the task at hand was simple – just seeing a house. It wasn’t mandatory to bring someone along. At the apartment office, he had to wait for over forty-five minutes for his turn. Two families were deliberating over the details of the flats they were planning to buy. A couple were fighting over the design of windows – the husband wanted a French window, but the wife brushed it aside arguing that it lets too much light in. In the other family, it was the wife’s parents who were dominating the discussion, raising too many queries. Mohanaswamy guessed that the wife’s parents must have given some money to buy the house. The father-in-law insisted on a toilet with an Indian commode while the mother-in-law was arguing that the house would be incomplete without a puja room. The husband was negotiating over the per square feet rate. The couple’s children were bored by all this and were about to sneak out to the construction site. The moment the mother realized this, she ran behind them. ‘Be careful! Iron rods and nails will prick you!’ she screamed, dragging them back in. They started crying. ‘Look, Pandu, don’t cry. I will tell this uncle to keep a separate room for you in the new house, okay? We will put up all the cartoon posters on the wall,’ she told the child, trying to pacify him.
It took over forty-five minutes for both the families to get done with their questions, negotiations and suggestions for changes. The manager, who looked worn out, now came to Mohanaswamy. Though he was visibly exhausted, he beamed a charming smile at Mohanaswamy. ‘My name is Rajesh. Sorry, I kept you waiting for long. What type of flat are you looking for, sir? What are your requirements?’ he asked.
Mohanaswamy had not come prepared for this question. He had simply come to look at a flat. ‘I need a small one,’ he replied.
‘The smallest we have is a 2 BHK. But sir, when you have set out to buy, why settle for less? Go for a three bedroom house. Once your children grow up, you will need more room,’ he suggested.
‘I don’t really need such a big house. Show me the smallest you have,’ Mohanaswamy repeated with a shrivelled smile.
‘Do you care for vastu, sir?’
‘No, none of that. Just show me a flat – a small and nice one.’
‘Oh, finally someone who doesn’t insist on vastu! These days it is easy to build a palace sir, but not so easy to build even a small toilet without considering vastu,’ he said with a laugh and asked Mahanaswamy to follow him. Though the apartment complex was still under-construction, a fully-furnished model flat was ready for display.
The door opened to a huge hall. Mohanaswamy was taken aback by its size and hesitated to step inside. He held on to a beam tightly and stood outside the entrance. He came to his senses only when Rajesh alerted him, ‘Come inside, sir, no need to remove your shoes.’ Mohanaswamy went inside. A big LCD TV was placed in a corner. Surrounding it was a big sofa set. A six-seater dining table stood in another corner. A spacious kitchen and a store room abutted the dining area. There was a separate space to keep the washing machine and refrigerator. The walls were lined with cabinets to arrange utensils and other household items. There were two bedrooms, including a master bedroom with an attached bathroom and a big white bathtub gleamed inside. The rooms had big wardrobes, a dressing table with a long mirror and open cabinets overhead. Finally, the hall opened out into a capacious balcony.
Mohanaswamy’s head began reeling. The attached toilet of the master bedroom alone was big enough for him to live a peaceful life, he thought. Why would he need any more space? All his clothes could be crammed into a single cupboard. Washing machine, fridge, microwave oven, geyser – he did not possess any of those appliances. He had never felt the need to buy them either. A small autorickshaw could hold the entirety of his belongings, so in which corner of this enormous flat would he arrange them? What would he – who enjoyed having food sitting on the floor and watching TV – do with those bulky sofas and armchairs? Who would use the dining table?
Mohanaswamy suddenly felt very small. Rajesh, playing the part of a seasoned salesman, went on describing the features of the flat. ‘See, we have fixed grills to the balcony for children’s safety. You can keep as big a bed as you want in the master bedroom. You can view the TV screen even from the kitchen. We have made this arrangement especially for the lady of the house, so that she won’t get bored. If you want one or two more wardrobes, there is space for them as well. We have designed the building in such a way that neighbours cannot have even a small glimpse into your house. We believe in complete privacy for the family. Your balcony faces the children’s playground. Sitting in the balcony you can watch your children play. We will give you two car parking slots…’ Mohanaswamy was even more frightened now and he felt like running away from that place.
Pausing for a while, Rajesh asked, ‘If you have anything particular in mind, please tell me, sir, we will get everything done. Tiles, wall colour, kitchen material, plywood, windows�
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Mohanaswamy had nothing to say. ‘This is enough … it’s nice. I don’t want anything else. If you kindly let me know the amount to be paid as advance, I will write out a cheque today itself,’ he said.
Now it was Rajesh’s turn to be taken aback. ‘Aiyoo … There is no urgency sir. Let your family too come and see the house. Let your children, parents, in-laws, all of them come and have a look first. Everyone will have their own preferences, right? Take a week’s time sir, no problem. I will keep a flat reserved for you. If you rush into it, we may both land in trouble later,’ Rajesh tried to convince him.
‘Please, there is no need for all that. If I say okay, that’s final. Please tell me how much I have to pay as advance,’ Mohanaswamy urged.
Without trying to persuade further, Rajesh said, ‘You will have to pay two lakh rupees as advance. The remaining thirty-eight lakhs can be paid at the time of registration. Registration charges will be separate.’
‘And in whose name should the cheque be drawn?’ Rajesh gave him a pamphlet, underlining the name of the company with a pen. Mohanaswamy hurriedly wrote out a cheque with trembling hands and handed it to Rajesh.
Rajesh was still a little puzzled and he didn’t react for a while. Then he remembered his lines and shook Mohanaswamy’s hands and said, ‘Congratulations, sir! We will give you two air tickets to Singapore as a complementary gift. You can go there with your family for three days and two nights. Food and accommodation will be taken care of. You will get further details in a couple of days.’