I am not quite sure how many know I am in Pune these days. The ones who read this blog do, but in general, I doubt anyone has missed my absence from Mumbai. It's not as if I want them to miss me; I am just wondering.
You see I left Mumbai rather quietly. I didn't call Dick, Tom, and Harrelina and tell them. Nor did I stand on the threshold of my door and wax eloquent about how I am leaving the city for good.
I just packed, took the Shivneri bus, and landed here. Parent followed me three months later.
So of course, people who weren't in Mumbai the time I left it were - quite naturally - taken by surprise.
One such acquaintance messaged me the other day just as I got down from my bus at Akurdi Chowk.
"Where are you these days?" read the message,"Where are you indeed?"
I read the message all right. But I could not recognize the number: No name showed up, and the digits were strangers to my memory as well.
Now, to such messages from unknown numbers, I usually reply with a hi hello, I ask: ''How are things?", and the answers I get are enough of a set of clues to recognize the acquaintance. But I was tired: My legs grumbled about the walk home. And my head had wound up for the day.
So, I let my impulse take over. My impulse, of course, went and made things worse.
"I am in Pune,"I saw it reply,"But who is this?"
My impulse, you see, is rather inexperienced in these matters: It's very honest, does not say the right things at the right time, and almost always make me apologize for the wrongs it has done. This time was no better.
"You don't remember me?" came the reply,"I am So and So! From Sion! Don't you remember man?"
Of course, now that he had mentioned his name, I did. I also knew I had to call and apologize and make the small talk as well.
So, I brought my head back to work, dismissed my impulse, and called So and so.
"Oh hello hello! So sorry about that!"
"Oh ya! I was wondering what happened?"
"Oh I have your phone number listed,"I lied,"But somehow it did not show up. I need to get this phone of mine repaired. But anyway how are you?"
Well, So and so was okay - as he always was. He was down for a break (He sails with a liner.), and he did not quite have a worry in the world so far. His mother wasn't well, but that was a minor blip in an otherwise smooth life. The girls loved him, boys envied him, and he, in turn, loved to spend on the girls and holiday in Goa.
"So do you still sing with You-know-who?" I asked.
"No. I am not in touch with him."
"Ah I see. Why what happened?"
"Well, you see, I think that fellow thinks no end of himself. And I am not that kind of person. And I hate it if someone throws attitude."
"Yes that I know."
"You know how I am."
I said, yes I do.
"You know how down to Earth I am, don't you?"
I nodded.
"Don't you?"
"Yes yes!" I said quickly, realizing there was no way he could have seen me nod.
"But that fellow! That fellow!"he repeated, "he used me completely."
I didn't quite understand how down-to-Earth behaviour had anything to do with being used, but of course, I wasn't called upon to say so. He wanted a sympathetic ear, and I was - in exchange for information - eager to oblige. So, I exclaimed: "Is it?" just as he expected me to.
"Yes man, he did. He used me to get all the talent to join the group and then he began to throw his attitude around."
"Oh no!"
"Oh yes! You must have noticed that as well."
I am not very diplomatic, but I was quite sure that whatever I would say to that would make me get down from the fence and sit - or stand - on one side. So, I dillydallied.
"Umm umm, not really," I slurred, "What makes you say so?"
"Oh come on!" he said, "I noticed he threw his attitude at you as well."
"Umm Umm-"
"I remember you would come from so far - Andheri - for practice. And it took you more than an hour or so to get there. I would feel so sorry for you."
I could sit on the fence no longer. Anyone who mentions Andheri, an hour, and so sorry for you in the same breath wins my vote, approval, favour, etc., etc.
"Well, yes," I admitted, "that is true."
"And I did mention that it was far for me. But the man never listened."
"Oh he is like that only."
"I know!"
"I stopped going for practice."
"Well, I bowed out before he could tell me not to come to sing. I sensed he was a little peeved by me not coming for practice. So, I just gave it up."
"No one likes him. You know that?"
"Well that is brand new information!"
"Well, no one does. In fact, he was thrown out of the Si and si organization."
"What are you saying?!"
"Oh yes, three fellows were responsible for that." And he mentioned their names as well.
"I see," I said for I did not know what else to say.
"Anyway, everyone in that organization wanted him out."
"Really!" I exclaimed. I now knew what else I could say. And so, I said it:
"Well, serves him right then!" I said as if that would punch the man of our conversation in his face, "he bloody well deserves it all!"
"Haha! I know!"
"See the thing with him is: He doesn't understand and doesn't even want to. It's either his way or you can bloody well get lost!"
"Well anyway he can do what he wants to now. I am no longer interested in joining him and his group."
To that, I could have said: "But of course! You don't need him. He needs you." Or "Don't even bother" would have been an apt rejoinder. But instead of all that, "Good for you, good for you!" came out of my mouth.
I hate saying: "Good for you." It's one of those buffers that you use when you have nothing much to say or when you just want to prod the person into completing whatever he or she has set out to dump into your ears. Of course, some don't quite take the hint and trundle on and on until you realize you have "a very urgent meeting to attend" or "some onion potatoes to buy from the bazaar." Now So and so wasn't the one to go on and on nor did I have onions and potatoes to buy. Despite that, that irritating buffer rolled out of my mouth. Probably, I had met too many trundlers that day which is why "good for you, good or you" was so readily available to my tongue.
Anyway, I immediately followed it with telling him how he doesn't need to bother about that fellow and how he is better off without him.
"Ya man! I wish him well. It's just that I feel used."
"Don't bother! Just have fun now! "
From then on, the conversation coloured itself with the usual questions: How's your mother? How's your father? How's this one? How's that one? Didn't you see that one there? Did you notice this? and other such similar queries.
We both knew the answers to those questions. Yet, like two civilized people, we let each answer and then pose the next question. This Q and A protocol just has to be a part of all "long-time-no-see" phone conversations. It's more of an assurance that we are still curious about the other than a conversation to know more about one another. So once each party is convinced that the other will return the call sooner than later, it's time to hang up.
In this case, I was convinced I would have to call So and so sometime later. We had a whole lot to be curious about, but I had no strength left after my exclamations to plod on. So I used my wrap-up script: I said I have just reached home (which was five minutes away from happening) and that I was so tired (which I really was) that I can hardly breathe (which was a downright exaggeration).
"Oh! Okay okay! No problem Gary! I'll see you soon then. Chalo see ya!"
"Bye! See you soon So and so!"
And so saying, I got into the lift and made my way to some tea and a rather inviting shower at the Ministry of Home Affairs.
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