‘What do you want? Do you know me?’
‘You know my name, and when you tell me your name, I will know it too. Isn’t this how people communicate?’ He paused expecting a reply from Jai. But Jai was not at all interested in Iyer’s small-talk, he tried to look away.
Iyer continued, ‘You know, in Madras, they say…’
‘I’m no Madrasi and neither am I interested in what people there say or how they say. Do you get me?’ Jai erupted on Iyer midway.
‘Your face is turning red, did you know that?’ he said calmly, chuckling.
‘Oh! So you read faces too?’ he asked sarcastically.
‘No, I was just guessing.’ He chuckled with an extra stress on s of guessing.
‘He He!’ Jai faked a sarcastic laugh, the irritation clearly displayed on his face.
Iyer overlooked his disinterest and continued, ‘You know? Even I was once like you vunly,’ he said only in a typical Tamilian accent, straight out of the streets of Madras. Only sounded like VUNLY. He continued, ‘A Yangry young man!’ He paused to look at young Jai.
‘O Really? I’m really not int….’ Jai was interrupted again.
‘I had big dreams! Dreams that grew more and more out of reach and I also used to get frustrated like you. I would also talk to people like you- YANGRILY!’
Jai pretended as if he was not hearing it. However, he did find some points that intrigued his attention in those words from Iyer’s big mouth.
I had big dreams! Dreams that grew more and more out of reach.
Iyer seemed determined to continue; he looked ahead and continued ‘I used to quarrel a lot with my father! My house was more like a courtroom. Every word passed was an argument and every argument carried 440 Volts of electricity!’
Jai pictured his own life, the quarrels and word fights with his father. How they could never compromise over anything. He peered at the Pathan sitting on the first seat. He wondered about the situation back in the Pathan’s house, if he had any.
Iyer continued his narration, he was still unaffected whether Jai was intending to listen to him or not, ‘My Father was a teacher at the Government School for boys. He wanted me to study hard and follow his suit!’ Iyer chuckled.
Jai remarked ‘Teacher?’ It was the first time he had reacted reasonably to Iyer’s narration.
‘Yes, a very good teacher, in fact. And do you the funny part?’
‘How would I know?’ Jai retaliated sarcastically.
The grin on Iyer’s mouth grew wider as he spoke, ‘I sucked in his own subject! And can you guess what his subject was?’ Iyer paused but before Jai could even wonder, Iyer answered, ‘MATHEMATICS!’ and started chuckling.
An expression of Oh My God grew on Jay’s face. It was whiter than ever. It was as if Iyer was narrating Jay’s story of life. Iyer missed the change in expression on Jay’s face as he was busy narrating his own story.
‘You know he said that the earth revolved around the sun and the universe revolved around MATHEMATICS! Something he learnt from an old movie. However, I hated maths. I could not even pass my matriculation exam because I failed in maths.’
‘I can understand that. Man! Maths sucks!’ Jai retorted.
‘I felt the same way; I told you I was just like you.’
‘Oh! Come on, Iyer! Just because we hate maths don’t make us similar. I mean, look at you! You are fat, ugly, wearing a stupid costume; look nothing less than a buffoon with that thing rubbed on your forehead. I mean, I am never gonna be like that.’ He clenched his collar.
‘Clothes do not make a person, dear. It’s his beliefs!’
‘Oh! Really?’
‘You can bet, if you want to.’
‘Ok! Listen, I am not interested in getting into any wager with you. I do not know you. So, would you please…?’
Iyer interrupted him again, ‘My name is Iyer, Krishnaprasad Iyer’ He held out his right hand for a handshake.
‘Oh! Hell there you go, are you a moron in dhoti?’ Jai was vexed with Iyer’s way introducing himself again.
Suddenly, the mysterious Pathan sitting on the first seat rose from his place and pushed out through the door. The room felt vacant and cold upon his departure. Was he also irritated by the fat Tamilian’s presence in that suffocating chamber? Jai wanted to leave too, but decided against it. He was too lazy to leave. He had already walked many miles today and had slept in a basement parking lot of a grunted mall! He wished if Iyer would leave.
Jai bent forward, placed his elbows over his knees, and then rested his chin on his palms while looking down at the floor below. He sighed.
‘You still did not tell me your name, son!’ Iyer remarked, ‘I bet it is as beautiful as you are.’
‘Why would you care? Are you some kinda South Indian homo?’ Jai said without looking up.
‘Oh! Come on. There is nothing wrong. You see, this is your problem. I think you are either too egoistic or too much introvert. Telling your name is not a daunting task. You should tell that with pride. A name is…’
‘My name is John Abraham! Happy?’ he poked on Iyer’s face.
Iyer fell silent for a moment, he saw the young boy staring into his face. This time, he did not miss the frustration in his eyes. The wrinkles on his forehead were a clear sign of sleepless nights and stressful days.
After a minute of thinking Iyer reported, ‘I think I have heard that name somewhere. Are you the son of some famous singer?’
HOLY CRAP! Is this man an idiot that he has not heard the Bollywood hunk’s name or is he overtly sarcastic? Jai questioned his senses.
‘My father is a darned professor’ Jai paused for a second, ‘of Mathematics!’
‘There you go! I know your name and a similarity between us.’ Iyer smiled.
‘Yea! Maths sucks! So, does my father.’
‘Well, I thought just the way you did. I hated my father when I was 18. He would not let me do what I wanted to do. Always said that Krishna, you will carry on where I left and grow up to be a maths professor and I wanted to be an actor.’
Jay’s eyes popped out. This had to be another coincidence and if it were one, then that would be too much to be counted as coincidence.
‘You wanted to become an actor?’ Jai queried perplexingly.
‘Hahaha!’ he chuckled, ‘I know I am fat and ugly, but I used to be fit and almost good looking back in my teenage days.’ He surefooted, ‘I had smaller male breasts!’ The fat Tamilian winked and chuckled at his own joke.
Jai rechecked what he had just heard. He had actually heard the fat guy joke about his chest. The joke had struck Jay’s funny bone. He chuckled heartily for the first time since last evening.
‘I know it is funny. But my story isn’t!’
‘What’s your story?’ The words just poured out of Jay’s mouth.
Oh SHIT! No, I did not say that! Revert it…Undo Undo! Jay’s mind commanded but unfortunately his mouth had already signed on the agreement.
‘Why don’t we discuss it over a cup of kappacheena?’ Iyer offered unassumingly.
‘You mean, Cappuccino?’
‘Yes, Yes!’
‘Ok, I won’t mind!’
Iyer produced two 50 rupee notes and handed it over to Jai, ‘There is a Little Café outlet near the ticket counter. I will wait here till you bring the drinks.’
Jai was surprised, he felt idiotic, but had already taken the money from Iyer. He thought what the hell! It’s his money, I get free cappuccino.
‘Okay, will be back in a moment’
Iyer smiled as Jai ascended from his seat. He walked towards the door, pushed it and was out of the room.
Fifteen
Hussain was standing inside the Station’s telephone booth holding a red colored receiver in his left hand. He waited until someone would finally pick his call and put an end to the continuous ringing.
The door of the temporary resting area opened and the young teenager made his way out. The boy had two Fifty-rupee notes in his han
d and walked in the direction of the booth. Soon, he passed the booth and swiveled towards the Little Café outlet. Hussain watched the young teenager running his eyes over the fancy menu displayed outside the outlet.
Jai ran his eyes from left to right, scanning the length of the menu displayed at the outlet. There were pictures of coffee in various flavors and styles. Then there were pastries and pasta, followed by his favorite- Truffle. The cappuccino was on the fat stranger. Just next to the cold coffee section was the list of available cappuccinos at the outlet. He ordered two regular ones at 49 rupees per cup. He placed his order at the counter, the guy immediately attended Jai. He punched in few keys on his keyboard, swiped on the screen once or twice, read the amount that appeared on the computer screen, ‘That would be 98 rupees.’ and passed a customer friendly smile.
Jai handed over the currency notes that Iyer had given him. The man at the counter collected it and placed it in the drawer. He tore out the bill that had appeared on the small printer and placed it in front of Jai along with a 2 rupee coin. Another employee of the Café brought two cups of cappuccino that were laid near the counter, where Jai was standing. Jai picked up the Cups and started walking back.
Hussain noted the teenager. He came in with two notes of fifty each but now he was carrying back a small coin and 2 cups of something. He knew it had to be tea or coffee but he did not know the mystery behind the disappearing currency. Just two cups of coffee churned out almost a hundred rupee from the customer! Hussain knew that people in the city were rich and things were costly, but there should be some limit. He would sell tea for as high as 5 rupee per cup and a coffee, which he made occasionally during heavy monsoon days and shear winters, would be sold for not more than 8 rupees, and the coffee would be filled until the brink of the cup and the aroma was enough to set the chilly weather on heavenly fire. Maybe his son was right; they should buy a tea stall in the mall. Nevertheless, he promised himself that he would not charge so much, so that even common people could also afford his amazing hand’s make. But why was he carrying two cups?
‘Hello, this is the Delhi Lottery Office’ the phone was finally answered; Hussain had shortly forgotten that he was waiting for someone to pick his call. His prayer was answered.
‘This is Hussain Ansari, from Ghittorni. I wanted to know till what time the Superintendent would be available today.’
‘He is here till 11.’ The voice replied. It was a male’s voice and the accent was sluggishly Haryanvi. Maybe Rohtak! Hussain guessed.
‘Oh, ok. Thank You. Khuda Haafiz’ Hussain greeted and graded the receiver back on the console.
Hussain slid the glass door and exited from the phone booth.
PERHAPS, I SHOULD CONSIDER MY SON’S OPINION, he told himself as he took long strides to the Resting Area.
Sixteen
‘Here’s your cappuccino.’ Jai handed over the hot cup of beverage to Iyer. Iyer threw his right hand around the cup. Jai noticed the tattoo imprinted on his wrist ‘K’.
‘K? Are you from the same boat as Karan Johar and Ekta Kapoor?’ Jai enquired with a tinted sense of humor.
‘No, No! It is my name’s first letter. Krishnaprasad, K’
‘Oh! Of course’
‘Sit down now, I have a story to tell. This doesn’t even smell anything close Madras Kaapi.’ He complained sniffing the steaming cup of cappuccino.
Jai sat down on the seat next to Iyer; he noticed that there was some girl’s name and number scribbled on the face of the seat
Shabhnam Singh – 91837218
The last two digits erased with a blade or something, though the curve of one of the two digits was still visible beneath the scribbling made by the blade.
ASSHOLES! He thought.
As he sat he asked Iyer, ‘You love telling stories, it seems.’
‘Do you know which is the greatest epic written till date?’ Iyer asked in an unassumingly degenerate way. He sipped a few from the cup in his hand.
‘I am not into fantasy kinda shit.’ Jai replied crudely.
‘Come on! Guess da!’ Iyer softened a firmer grip on the boy’s imagination.
‘What? Is it Greek? Or wait…Mahabharata? Isn’t it?’
‘No! My dear. It’s something that’s more contemporary and realistic.’
‘What? World War 2? Assassination of Hitler?’
Iyer chuckled, ‘Hitler committed suicide. Try something personal.’
‘Oh! Please, I am not into reading either. Would you please shine light before I lose my interest in your story?’ He cited.
‘It’s your own life’s story’
‘I’m sorry, What did you say?’
‘The Greatest epic is your own life’s story. From the moment you set your foot outside your mother’s womb, an epic is set into motion that keeps evolving until the day you leave this place. For some, the story never ends, their legacy continues.’
Jai was expecting a wacky answer from Iyer, but this came as a shocker. An artfully woven piece of philosophy from the fat man left Jai staring blankly into Iyer’s face.
‘Your cappachina…it is getting cold da. Drink it.’ Iyer juggled between moods.
Jai picked up the coffee mug and started sipping the lukewarm beverage. He started liking the way Iyer would solder the final verb with the Tamil extension ‘da’, it felt warm and awkwardly attractive. He did not know what it meant, curiosity to know the meaning made Jai ask his next question, ‘Why is that you keep adding da to every other verb? What does it mean?’
‘something like dude in our colloquial slang.’ Iyer explained.
‘Yeah! right. So Can we start with the story?’
‘Yes Of course, dear.’
Iyer inspired a deep breath of air, his fleshy chest almost expanded to the extent of blowing up the station. In addition, with a gist of recollection, he let the air off his mouth, holding the lips in shape of the English alphabet ‘O’.
He started narrating his story.
Book 2
The Stranger’s Story
Seventeen
May 1993
Pattabiraaman Kalyanamandapam, Madurai, Tamil Nadu
Fresh out of Class tenth, Raamasaamy Iyer’s son was the talk of the Agrahaaram! Nobody had written me off, but neither had any one ever expected so much out of me. All the relatives from my Agrahaaram had complete faith in my cousin, Kamakshi, that she would score the highest aggregate among us equals!
However, it eventually turned out that she secured 94 percentage marks in her 10th class boards, that was two percentages lesser than mine. Thus, I became the hero now.
Even I was little surprised at first, for I knew I had done well, but so well? I could never even imagine in my slightest dreams that I could score over an eighty! Maybe the examiner was drowsy or too high while he was checking my paper or maybe it was checked by her two year old! Whatever the reason maybe, I was damn excited! Things were certainly going to change!
Kamakshi’s father, that is, my uncle would often mock my Appa that I wouldn’t score more than 60 in his subject, Mathematics! But to everyone’s, especially my Appa’s, felicity I scored a whopping 99 out of 100! Happens! I was on cloud nine! At least I thought so. Very confident of my life ahead, I stepped up with pride. But little did I know that that was going to be the beginning of a lifetime of misery and discontent.
Here I was, attending the marriage of my Mother’s elder sister’s second daughter’s brother in law at a community marriage hall in Madurai near the Meenaksi Temple. Although, conceived at my mother’s place in Madurai, I moved to Tuticorin with my parents when I was just a year old and since then I have been here. Never had the need to move out of Tuticorin!
Everyone from the Agrahaaram was present at the wedding. Oh! By the way, Agrahaaram is the term used for a street consisting of a group of houses, where most of the residents are related to each other. Agrahaaram derives from the two words Grah and Haaram. Grih is the Sanskrit word for house while haaram means garland. Thus, Agrahaar
am actually translates into Garland of houses. It is a traditional system in Southern India, especially Tamil Nadu where houses run parallel and meet at a temple. Well, not exactly parallel. Just try to imagine, I am not good at geometry, you will know that soon.
So, the houses actually bind the Temple like a garland. The houses are inhabited by Brahmins, and well, we were Brahmins too, Iyers!
And My name is Iyer, Krishnaprasad Iyer!
Eighteen
I was with my second cousin whom everybody called Kanna, owing to his dark mischievous facial features that resembled Lord Krishna. Both of us got together pretty well, our aunts would often envy the bond shared by us and would try to fuse differences between our mothers to break our bond. Even if they were successful in juggling up our Ammas, their intentions could never touch us. Such strong was our love for each other. We would do everything together, talk to each other for hours without stopping. We never got bored when we were with each other. However, the thing that we liked most was, hitting on girls our age and elder to us especially at weddings and other such social gatherings. We would drape ourselves with whitest white mundu and silky shirts and with our aviators on our faces; we looked nothing short of a Rajini and Kamal duo. I always preferred Rajinikant, although dark but he would be happy as Kamal. Me being the taller and elder one enjoyed greater following and garnered more respect from the younger lot. There were 18 direct cousins and out of them, 15 were younger to me, while the three who were elder had been married off years ago. Therefore, I enjoyed a special status among the equals and below. So here we were, at the wedding of Ranganatha Iyer and Krishnaveni, eve hunting inside the wedding hall, while keeping our faces hidden from our dear parents. I was walking along the inner sanctum’s circumference when Kanna called me from behind, ‘Thalaiva! Look at this. Sooooper-figures, Thalaiva!’
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