Glaring Alley - Simplified

I did not want to respond. After all when someone utters ‘Sharma’, I feel irritated and left with no explanation as to why someone would call me that. It is not that I have an aversion to my surname, however because I am a proud owner of a beautiful first name that is all about light and being different. Harish and some of his friends were luckily the only ones who would call me by my surname. It fails to impress me even when some of his friends would call me by my surname, and to make it appear that they are not disrespecting my name would add the syllable ‘ji’. I did not want to respond not due to the fact that someone uttered my surname, but more due to the mental state I was in. Only then I had somehow convinced myself, in particular my legs to turn around and take its first step away from the alley. I did not want to undo that effort by turning around. However I immediately recollected that I had ventured into the alley, in spite of all the glares and the dirty one at that, only after agreeing with Harish over the phone that I would meet him on that alley in front of the Billu store. I turned around.

He stood there, with a smile that always put me at ease, calmed me down and one that assures me that I am safe around him. I was relieved to see him, to see a familiar face, one that did not glare at me, that smiled and one that didn’t scare me. I wanted to run towards him, and be in close proximity to his presence and assurance. I looked around, wanted to quickly scan my immediate surrounding and assure myself that the moment I started to run I wouldn’t be stopped abruptly by any stupid glare or person. The man who hadn’t passed the customary glare that was so common on that alley, looked me in the eye and without any effort stopped my scan. For the first time I paid attention to his dark blue shirt, his apron and the white cap he wore over his head. I got fixated on his face, with lot of questions playing out in my mind. Who is this guy? Why didn’t he glare at me? Is he trying to conceal something here? Why did he abuse the man with the knife? Was it the first time blood was spilled on that alley and not in that ek alag se jagah? While these questions were surfacing one after another, I could see him study my t-shirt with lot of care; slowly I could see his expression change and quickly exchange few words with a person standing before him. The person standing in front of him, seemed to be in his mid twenties, came across as an educated man who possessed a sophisticated persona, gave me and my t-shirt a quick glance and then nodded his head, followed it with some explanation to the man who didn’t glare. Before I realized the man had taken off his white cap and was only a couple of paces away from me and had begun talking to me. ‘....samajhthe hi nahin. Sorry madam, kabhi aisa nahin hua hain. Bandha naya hain. Waise bhi, hum license leke kaam kar rahe hain. Maarne ke liye jo tarika hum istemaal karte hain woh bilkul latest aur approved hain. Bina dard hi kaam chala leta hain. Koi torture nahin hota hain. Aaj aapne jo dekha, usko please report mat keejiye. Maafi maangta hoon.’

Before I could utter a word, the man walked away after these words, at double the pace with which he had approached me. I stood there wondering, why he chose to explain all that to me. Am I not the one who without any explanation was getting glared at on that alley? I then closely examined my t-shirt, observed the logo. Now it made sense! A 4 letter word seemed to have shaken up the man, maybe his conscience is still cold, to provide an explanation for the brutal stroke of the knife on the luckless neck. By this time, Harish was beside me and as always knew it best when I was disturbed. He took my hand and led me towards an ice cream parlour on that alley. Over the next ten minutes I related everything that had gone past me in the past hour or so. Well it was in reality only five minutes, however it felt like an hour to me. Harish tried his best to calm me down, and then said, ‘Why wouldn’t you get a glare, if you are not aware of the key hotspot in the locality. Billu’s store is a landmark that everyone knows and reveres about in these parts. So when you enquired about such a place, you surely would have attracted glares. As always you look great in a white t-shirt and blue denims. You are bound to attract glares, alley or not.’ This last part of Harish’s explanation made me blush and feel embarrassed at the same time. Anyways without uttering a word, I let him continue. ‘This logo on your t-shirt can make anyone sh*t in their pants, when it comes to violence against animals. Or should I say, even when there is a perceived violence against animals.’

I didn’t have much to say. Harish does that to me. I was hoping that he would also give me an explanation as to why that movie scene would play in my mind. He sensed that I was expecting him to say more, and said ‘Oye! It’s Friday! Chalo movie chalte hain! This time let’s go to a movie with a nice romantic scene that you can imagine to be a part of! I will be there to give you company’. Men will always remain men.

Glaring Alley

My query was met with an unexplainable glare, for a moment it sent a chill down my spine; eventually the response followed by a smile eased my nerves and I proceeded forward. The road led to a very narrow alley on its right, whose flag bearer was a small shop, ‘pan shop in general parlance, though it sold lot more than pan’, that had a proud owner, his pride was unquestionable given the way he twitched upwards his moustache reminding me one of the short stories from school days about one Maratha who lost everything he possessed only to ensure that a non-Maratha’s moustache never resembled that of a true blue Maratha, who meticulously worked on the beetel leaves without looking at them. His eyes were pre-occupied in sending those glares, not as chilling as the previous one I received, but one which surely measured me up in and out. It definitely made me conscious and put me into two minds as to whether I wanted to proceed into that alley, which suddenly reminded me one of those villainous scenes from a movie I had seen only the other day. The alley in that scene on screen was the chosen location for a senseless and cold blooded murder that was a culmination of a long chase that had preceded that scene. I recollected my senses and quickly calmed myself and even told to myself as to how stupid it was to recollect that murder scene only due to the similarity of the physical appearance of the alley. After all as an analogy, I was not chased down by any underworld don with ghoda in hand.

I took measured steps forward; however the scene from the movie kept replaying itself over and over again, and that motionless face of the deceased was getting replaced with my face. I needed a break. I wanted to run away from that alley, but somehow my legs would not listen to my brain and for some weird reason would not turn around. It was unexplainable and scary; sweat started trickling down leaving me with cold feet. It felt like eternity, until a horn shook me up and brought me back to my senses.

I was standing in the middle of the alley, obstructing the movement of an Enfield. The man on the beastly bike, the Indian equivalent of a Harley in terms of the niche set of owners in an otherwise mass market product category, wore dark brown Ray Ban coolers, a spotless white shirt and a matching dhoti, proudly showcased the numerous chains around his neck made out of that evergreen gold metal, slowly moved forward, stopped by me and for a momentary second removed his shades and gave me a glare – best described as dirty and outright cold. I almost wanted to push him off the bike, and pick up a stone and hurl at him, least of all slap him hard. By the time I contemplated and arrived at what I wanted to do, he had sped off the scene. Probably he was in a hurry, or he read my mind – I will never know, even now I wonder what would have happened had he chosen to hang around even for some 10 seconds more in that alley in front of me.

I wanted to quickly forget that last glare; I shook off all thoughts and moved forward. I didn’t want to lift my head up, only worried at how many more glares I would have had to witness that day. However blood splashing in front of me on the road stopped me in my tracks. I can even now remember very vividly the exact manner and pattern with which the droplets of blood fell on the road before turning into a pool of blood. I am sure my heart stopped beating for those 2 seconds. Though no one might believe me, I am so convinced that I did survive a heartless condition for those 2 long seconds.

The slit throat oozed blood out at a rapid pace and before I could come back to my senses, there lay a lifeless body in front of me. I witnessed the same expression on the lifeless body that I had seen on screen. I did not want to be on that alley anymore. I wanted someone to somehow airlift me away; I shivered at the thought of taking one more step in the alley. Somehow I mustered up courage to look up, and I saw this man with the knife completely tensed with the whole outcome. He looked me in the eye more in an apologetic manner, did he understand the turmoil I was going through – I didn’t care. He had committed a sin, in front of my eyes. However I soon heard someone hurl abuses at the man and say, ‘Beh******, ek kaam theek se karna nahin aata hain kya. Yeh sab karne ke liye ek alag se jagah diya hain, aur tu yehaan khullam khulla sadak pe maar diya usko. Ab kya dekh raha hain. Fatafat utha usko aur ander jaake saaf karo. Niklo yahan se.’ The person hurling abuses looked at me and didn’t care much, that was the first person who hadn’t glared at me that day, however it failed to impress me any bit. I had had enough of that alley. I didn’t want to continue any further. I turned back, for the first time on that alley, and took my first step when I heard someone shout ‘Sharma’.

Lucky getaway...

It has been an awesome last 36 hours so far. Sitting at the Madurai airport, man I love airports at Tier 2 cities - it kind of reminds me about one of my CCS works at IIMB, in which I very bravely concluded that Tier 2 city airports hold the key for the Indian aviation sector. I see a plush new international terminus getting constructed 200 metres away from the current domestic terminus. Knowing very well that one blink doesnt necessary indicate a person's interest in another, I still feel vindicated. :) The last 36 hours was punctuated with a beautiful marriage ceremony in one of the remotest possible places I have ever travelled to. The relative reference is with respect to the civilization around the place. However the lack of civilization around is made up by the small group of people who do live in this town, content with whatever they have got. (According to most of us, they havent got much in terms of getaway options, no entertainment, no metro lifestyle, no movie halls, you get the drift right). You get to experience the true sense of hospitality that is so damn pure in places like Kaaraikudi and Kandramanickam. It kind of reminds me my sales stints in Kolhapur and Agra, those days.

The weekend began with a lovely flight travel from Mumbai to Chennai, lovely given the company I had during those 2.5 hours - that would remain with me until I choose to share sometime later on. It was followed by a wonderful road trip -450 kms long, cursing the roads, and Muthu for choosing to have the wedding in Kandramanickam instead of Chennai, however at the end of the day I am glad I was part of the road trip. Road travel, especially by the country side allows me to unwind in my own way, without any thoughts about city life whatsoever. It allows me to sing, I know how bad I am at it, and I dont need any of you to remind me of the same - still its such a good feeling revisiting some of those classics, especially when you encounter them totally uninformed. The music, the scenery and the whole concept of moving places gives me one good high - I just hope that such getaways are always going to be part of my life for ages to come.

Not knowing what to expect, and always preparing oneself mentally for the worst, it was such a pleasant surprise to find a room spacious, air-conditioned and boasting of a TV that allowed us to watch some portions of the India - SriLanka match live, I did surf channels hoping to catch a quick glimpse of EPL action but I had stretched my optimism too far. Back to watching cricket and enjoying the fact that India was doing well, it put us in the right mood to get ready for the feast at Muthu's ancestral home. Though the ride wasnt anything special to write about, the whole evening at his place reinforced one judgement I have always had about Muthu - he is so damn humble. Without going into the specifics, I choose to keep it the same way that he has kept it so far, man I was speechless for quite a long time. The whole evening, I hope, would be a memorable one for Muthu, given that was the last evening he spent as a bachelor with all the freedom that comes with being one, I am sure you get what I mean. :) The ceremony in the morning was such a cute affair. I loved it.

I am in such a good mood after a long time, I know very well that I am lucky that this is just half the fun. The Bengali hospitality and festivity awaits, along with chance to catch up with some people who have played very crucial roles in my last 2.5 years. I am off now, people queing up to another flight have already got a peek preview of this blog, I cant take it anymore. Catch you guys soon.