Suresh Hiremath, humble,
self-effacing, always trying to please others, had been constantly tagging
along me for a quite a while now. Of late, he’d started accompanying Vijay and
me every evening to the city for my daily quota of drink and mughlai chicken. Although he too like
Umesh had kept all the acquaintances under the impression that he was a
teetotaler and a pure vegetarian, of late, if only to please me, he’d begun to
drink a small peg of whisky and to partake in my plate of Mughlai chicken,
though initially he took only the Sherwa or the gravy part only. What I liked
in him most was that he was not secretive and exhibited no holier than thou
attitude, like Umesh and his kind did, despite the fact that he belonged to the
highest and priestly caste of the Lingayats. He was sitting in deep
conversation with Vijay when I returned after talking to Umesh. He had joined
us just before we entered the restaurant holding a polythene bag, declaring
that he had made some purchase. As I sat opposite them asking Vijay if he had
placed order for the drinks, Suresh gave me the bag, “Sir, this is for you.”
“What’s it?” I asked him as I
opened it partially to reveal the contents- it was a T-shirt. “Why did you get
it for me Suresh?” I asked with disapproval, as it felt like a bribe for
whatever I had been doing for him. Receiving gifts always produced some kind of
unease in me.
“I found it in the roadside
stall sir, and I remembered you. It suits your fair complexion very well sir.”
It was a white t-shirt with
dark blue stripes and felt like smooth wool when I touched it.
“Please don’t think otherwise
sir, it is just that I felt like buying it for you,” Suresh tried to explain.
“Why didn’t you feel like
buying one for me swami?” Vijay asked, just to tease him.
“It doesn’t suit you, Mama,
it is meant for lookers like Harsha”
Instead of taking offense, Vijay
said, “For once, you are right. But any type of dress suits Harsha”
“Those who have hair can have
any hairstyle they like,” Suresh said in a lighter manner.
“Are you guys finished with
your silly observations? If so we can call the waiter,”
I remarked feeling
embarrassed.
“We’ve already ordered,” The
waiter entered the cabin as Vijay replied.
“By the way, I saw Bhaskar
and Mohan near bus stand,” Suresh informed.
“Well, it seems they have got
together again, after a long time,” Vijay observed.
“Bhaskar can never leave
Mohan alone, you know. He doesn’t have any existence apart from Mohan. It is a
wonder that it took so long for him to catch up with Mohan,” I said trying to
keep my voice normal. It was not palatable news to me. There had always been sort
of cold war between Bhaskar and me for grabbing the affections of Mohan. Of
late, however, Mohan had drifted away from both of us. Bhaskar could easily
outdo me because he would not mind being Mohan’s sidekick or ‘chamcha’, which was detestable to me.
But today, I was not bothered about either of them, for Kavya had filled every
nook and corner of my mind.
Mohan and Bhaskar caught up
with us later, at the city bus stand. “Hello brrrotherrs!,” Mohan hollered with
deliberate slur. I knew he was never too drunk to slur and sway, but he liked
to act like he was. Bhaskar hugged Vijay in a display of overflowing emotions,
as though he was meeting the latter after a long, long time, which too was his
way of showing that he was drunk. It seems so ridiculous, but those days we not
only wanted to drink, but wanted to show off that we were proud to be drunk!
Mohan clasped my arm and
said, “Brotherrr, still half an hour is there for the last bus. Let’s have one
more drink!”
“Mohan, I have already had my
dinner. I don’t drink after eating.”
“Nothing'll happen, man, at
least to me. Won’t you buy me a drink? It’s been long since we drank together.”
“Okay,” I agreed, “But we can’t
go to bars now. They’ll all be crowded.”
“Yes, we’ll have it over the
counter,” Bhaskar added.
We went to a liquor shop
opposite bus stand leaving behind Vijay and Suresh, who wouldn’t come there for
the fear of being recognized by someone. It didn’t take more than a few minutes
to gulp down our drinks and lick the achar
supplied free of charge. The whole thing felt cheap, standing amidst dhoti clad
villagers, smelling of sweat. When we walked out, Mohan’s eye fell on a couple
of women standing with their trademark baskets near the grill encircling the
pavement round the corner.
