Healthy bribe

From my early childhood I was very fond of reading books. I had studied in Gujarati medium up to class eight and then in English medium. So naturally, I was fond of Gujarati books from early on. I was a member of the school library and I used to read short stories, novels and later progressed to Gujarati translations of Jules Vern’s ‘The Messenger’ and such other books. My entire family was fond of reading as such, but my elder brother in particular, was an avid reader- even now he is. He too was a member of an English library and was heavy into Erle Stanley Gardner and Agatha Christie. He was always after me to read one of the English books, but I didn’t show any interest. He insisted that he was not against my reading Gujarati books but if I started reading English books, a whole new world will open for me, but to no avail.

When all his attempts to convince me failed, he tried another trick. He offered that if I finish one Perry Mason book, he would give me one big Cadbury chocolate. I was very fond of Cadbury. We were a middle class family and Cadbury was almost a luxury. I was tempted. I started reading one Perry Mason book but could not go beyond three- four pages. After a while he asked me if I had read the book. I told him I could not make head or tail of the book. He was visibly disappointed. I felt guilty.

Next, after a day or so, He added a ‘Barna’ table tennis bat on top of Cadbury If I finish one book. Now this matter was suddenly serious. Cadbury was one thing and a ‘Barna’ was something else again. I was a good and keen table tennis player and had made my name in the school for my game. ‘Barna’ was the best available bat at that time and was every good player’s dream. But I also knew that my brother could not afford it. He had stretched himself too far. Hence I must make another serious and sincere attempt for his sake.

I started again with new determination. I took it slowly, reading a paragraph twice when I could not follow the gist. I closed the book often when my attention wavered, only to start again after sometime. Slowly I began to grasp the story. Even though I did not understand meanings of many words and legal terms (they were too many to refer dictionary), I began to understand the theme and story in general. When I was a little more then a half way through, I was hooked. I just could not put the book down. I finished the book and asked my brother for another. He did not have to bribe me any more. I told him I would settle for Cadbury. But my brother kept his word and in due time got me a ‘Barna’ bat.

Ever since, I am hooked to books. Of course, as time passed tastes changed. In my twenties, I was heavily into James Hadley Chase. Later still, I was into P. G. Woodhouse, Ken Follet, Sheldon to Wilbur Smith to Ludlum and others. Now at sixty five, I am a voracious reader, and reading a variety of subjects, thanks to my brother.

The smoking adventure

It was in late fifties, I was probably twelve or thirteen years old when I had my first tryst with cigarette. One boy in our class used to smoke occasionally and brag about it. So one day we four friends decided to try it out. It boomeranged miserably. We went to a cigarette shop and our expert friend, Nalin, was entrusted with the task of procuring cigarettes for all of us. We found a partly concealed corner and started our great experiment with the fag as it was fashionably called at that time. As luck would have it, one of my father’s close friends was passing by and saw us doing what we were doing. Unfortunately, we didn’t see him. Uncle wasted no time and went straight to my house and informed my father of what we were doing and where we were. Uncle knew the parents of other boys too because we all lived in the same locality. But he preferred to go to my house only, God bless him for that.

My father was a man of virtues. He never thought of alcohol, smoke, betel and such like. What is more, he never knew what betel or betel nut tasted like. He was a simple, straightforward and a very short- tempered man, but highly respected. We were all very scared of him.

So uncle told my father to catch us red handed. But my father told him to wait for my return and meanwhile share a cup of tea with him. When I returned, my father confronted me with uncle’s accusations. It was so sudden and I was so scared that I didn’t have time to think. Because of all the stories I had heard since childhood of his strictness and punishments mated to my elder brothers when at fault, that I thought he would throw me out of the house. Without thinking I denied the charges and said I was not there at all. My father told my uncle that if I say I was not there then I was not there and that uncle must have mistaken some other boy for me. However, he profusely thanked uncle for his concern. A little shaken, uncle went away. I heaved a sigh of relief.

The moment uncle was out of sight and earshot, hard came a slap on my face. Father was livid with rage: “ The moment you opened your mouth I knew you were lying. I protected you simply because however close a friend he (uncle) be, he is an outsider and I did not want to disgrace you in front of him. You have damaged years of our friendship. This slap is not because you smoked but because you lied. If I had called your lie then, you would not have ever been able to meet uncle’s eyes.”

Then came a gem of a line which neither I, nor anyone else in the family expected from my father: “Look here, I can understand and even appreciate your need to experiment at this age. But when faced, have courage to speak the truth. I don’t expect you to come and tell me of your own that you smoke, but when asked I certainly expect you to admit and face consequences. Whatever you do, do it without being scared of outsiders.”

Even at that immature age, I was impressed. As I grew, I began to understand and appreciate that one line: “ I can understand and appreciate your need to experiment
at this age.” Every time I remember that line, I wonder at the thought and understanding behind it. That one line has taught me how I should treat my own children.

However, a few days after this incident my elder brother informed me that father had doubled my monthly allowance for me to go for a good brand if I wanted to smoke. That was my father. I must have smoked hardly four-five times after that. I tried to continue, but couldn’t. Not because I had become virtuous all of a sudden. But for the fact that all adventure had gone out of it.

The Vanishing act

It was early sixties in Calcutta. I was probably thirteen or fourteen years old then. My elder brother owned one Italian Lambretta scooter. He had taught me to drive the vehicle. Occasionally when he had time, he allowed me to drive and himself occupied the pillion seat. My father didn’t know this and we were scared that he would find out. So my brother had warned me not to touch the vehicle when he was not around. But sometimes, when he was in office, I used to take out the scooter and give rides to some of my friends. I was on cloud nine on such trips. It was adventure.

On one such occasion I took out the scooter and went to my close friend Mahendra’s house. Mahendra was paper thin and light weight then. We used to tease him about that in school that his wife will have to carry him around. So we started from Bhowanipore to Lansdowne road to Rashbihari towards Gariahat. When we approached Gariahat crossing, we wanted to cross the tramline and go straight across the road. There was traffic and noise and we were moving fast as we wanted to beat the policeman controlling the traffic. At the same time I was talking to Mahendra and driving. I didn’t notice a small pebble stone lying on the tram track. When we were crossing tramline in speed, front wheel of the scooter passed without trouble. But the rear wheel came upon the pebble stone and because of the speed and momentum the rear wheel jumped at least four – five inches above the track and came down heavily. Fortunately, I could control the vehicle and speed across.

Meanwhile, I noticed some people gaping and some shouting from three – four sides. I didn’t realize that they were shouting at me. When I crossed the road I asked Mahendra if he was all right. There was no reply. I cut the speed and looked back. No Mahendra there.

Actually when we were speeding and crossing the track, Mahendra was leaning a bit and talking something in my ear. He was not holding on to anything. Both his hands were on his knees. When the rear wheel jumped, Mahendra’s bum jumped higher and before his bum could settle on the seat, the scooter sped from underneath. Instead of the seat, his bum settled heavily on the road. Because of traffic noise, I didn’t realize this. Actually people were shouting at me to stop. When I realized this, I parked the scooter and went back to fetch him. Mahendra was in pain but was cursing and laughing at the same time along with a few who had seen this freak accident from close.

I don’t know where Mahendra is now but hope he is telling this story to his grandchildren same as me. And of course, I hope he has gained enough weight to keep his bum firmly in place and more so, because his wife doesn’t have to carry him around.

Cigarette packets

When I was a small boy, I got one empty cigarette packet from somewhere. While playing with it, I made a small article with that packet. In no time it became my hobby to try & make different shapes and articles from cigarette packets. The problem was to procure empty packets. No body smoked in our family. My father was very strict about that. None of our relatives or family friends smoked from whom I could get the packets. It was frustrating.

We were staying on the ground floor of our building. One Gandhi family was residing on the first floor. Our family was not on talking terms with the members of Gandhi family, except Gandhi uncle himself. The entrance and passage for both ground and first floor was common. That created problems between the two families. There were frequent arguments and frictions. But Gandhi uncle was a nice man. He visited our house at least once in a week. He usually occupied our swing and discussed economics, politics, share market etc. with my father over a shared cup of tea or coffee, which his family members did not like. This lead to frequent arguments in their family, but Gandhi uncle continued his visits to my father, sometimes fleetingly.

Now Gandhi uncle was a chain smoker. He used to smoke three packets a day. But my elder brother warned me not to bother Gandhi uncle as it would lead to further arguments in their family.

In our drawing room, we had four windows facing the street outside. One day I found one empty cigarette packet lying on the drawing room floor below the fourth window. It so happened that Gandhi uncle somehow came to know about my problem and silently found a solution. The sight of the first three windows was accessible from the first floor. The fourth window was diagonal. One could not observe the happenings of the fourth window from the first floor.

While going to office, Gandhi uncle used to empty his cigarettes in an old packet and used to throw in the fresh one from the fourth window. He used to repeat the performance while returning from office in the evening. Nobody said anything about it to anyone but everybody knew who was helping me. This continued for quite a few months till I grew out of that hobby and lost interest in it.

My father and Gandhi uncle are no more. I am myself sixty four now. But I will never forget his kindness even at the risk of displeasing his own family. I wonder if anyone will be so simple and thoughtful today. These small gestures make life worth living. AMEN.

Musings-Aggarwal's woes

Ours is a residential society of five wings consisting about a hundred flats. Most of the occupants are Gujaratis and Marwaris followed by a few Punjabis, Bengalis and South Indians. Among these, one Marwari family- Aggarwals-was staying in their ownership flat. Now they have left. When we shifted to this flat about five years back, I came to know most of the occupants in our wing within a week, amongst them Aggarwals. Soon I noticed that people were avoiding Mr. Aggarwal. As far as possible, every one politely excused himself when Aggarwal talked to them. A few elderly persons used to sit in the society compound in the evening but as soon as Aggarawl approached, they slowly dispersed.

In time I too got acquainted with him. Aggarwal was a rough talking person, almost to the extent of being rude. He had small, round cunning eyes, but also there was some kind of sadness in his eyes which few could detect. He was generally angry and displeased with every one and everything –watchman was not doing his job properly, milkman was mixing water in the milk, liftman was not holding door open for him, secretary was not listening to his complaints etc. etc.

When he started getting acquainted with me, I instantly realized that he was measuring me up, if I was a good listener. Though I did not like his abusive manner, there was something in his attitude which suggested that he had seen the worst side of life and was badly wounded, at least socially. So I listened. Slowly it came out that his children ( two sons and two daughters ) had thrown him out of his own house and business. That he had built the business and this house, that his sons were not trustworthy, so much so that they had managed to make his own married daughters to go against him. When he asked his sons to get out of his house and business, they went to court. They proved in the court it was a very small business and a single story house when they joined business, that they worked hard to make the business flourish and they had also helped in building two more stories to the then existing one storey. His daughters also gave evidence against him. The court verdict was that either Aggarwal compensate his children against business and house and takeover both or take compensation from children against the same and get out. Aggarwal got out after taking compensation from his sons. I don’t know if his sons were guilty or not but I felt sorry for the old man, until one evening when I entered our compound, I saw Aggarwal sitting on a bench. He started talking to me. I had some pastries for my grandson for which he was waiting. I wanted to go home immediately but Aggarwal was talking non-stop I could not be rude enough to intercept his talk and say I wanted to go. Just then, I saw my son hurriedly going out, almost on double. Still I called him And requested: “Please do me a favour. Go up and give this packet to your son and then go wherever you are going.”

Though in a hurry, my son took the packet and vanished.

Aggarwal was mighty displeased with me. He told me sternly that the boy was my son and bound to obey me. I should have just ordered him to hold everything and do my bidding first. He said people like me were spoiling their children and this generation. No amount of explaining that I knew my son would do my bidding, whether I ask politely or rudely, then why should I be unnecessarily rude to him, cut any ice with him.

Now I knew why he was out of his house and his business.

Real Culprit-The Strip tease mms episode

Mid-Day and other newspapers published the news and photo clips of “Noida sex clips” story. Reportedly, the girl did striptease for the benefit of her boyfriend. The boy later circulated the clip to his friends. The point is : though her photograph was pixilated, some people who are close to the girl and know the concerned prestigious institute must have recognized the girl. It is a possibility these people may tell their friends and relatives who the girl is. The poor creature, it appears, has taken entire brunt of this heinous episode whereas the boy has got away with little mention.

I am not against the girl’s pixilated photo appearing in newspapers but, with that, the media should have gone all out after the boy who is the main culprit. His name and a big photograph should have appeared in all news papers along with caption:

“BEWARE OF DOGS & THIS MAN”

The concerned boy should be taught a lesson that what happens within the four walls among two persons should remain that way, within four walls.

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