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The successful loser - memoirs

Woke up unnaturally early this morning to fulfil a very old fetish of depositing my cheques in the first clearing. The wife had begun waking me since 9.30 am and I gave up after three attempts and half an hour later. Skipping brushing my teeth after gargling a couple of times and quickly pulling on a pair of jeans, I ran out to reach the bank before 10.30. I reached the bus stop a couple of blocks away and saw a 345 cruising in empty to its first stop after departure. I walked in and thrust my wallet and knowingly he held it to its device without opening it and handed it back after nodding that it was valid. Thumbs up to digilife.
I reached the bank and was out within a couple of minutes. I walked a few blocks ahead to the bank where the wife and daughter’s accounts were and passed by the Rock Enclave where we resided a decade back. Remembered a couple of memories passing by as I reached the destination I always looked forward too. An all women bank and that too filled with pretty young and not so young ones. There was a queue since it was a Monday morning after the weekend holidays and one more tomorrow for Gudi Padva. Waited looking around the beauty and for my turn when the phone rang and the panic attack resurfaced immediately when I saw that the call was from school.
It had been a terrible ordeal and I had spent the weekend and two more days in the hospital with my sick daughter as events loomed ahead for the week. A childhood friend had arrived from Canada on his annual and another was celebrating his 50th. My nephew was turning 21 on Saturday and the family had arranged for a surprise. It was immense relief when the doctor decided to release her on Tuesday. She was still complaining of aches and pain and I had decided to change the course of her medicine. I called the wife and rushed back home. Brushed my teeth, had something to eat for breakfast, had a quick shower before the daughter arrived early from school. It was already past one when I ran out, blowing quick good byes and reached the bus stop again. I thought I recognized the letter ‘S’ on the back of the bus which had already left and I hopped on the bus which arrived next. Fortunately, the lights were still red and I hopped on to my bus to Juhu. I reached the hotel a full two hours later and dreamt of the day when I would be cruising on a metro train. I completed the couple of assignments for the day. Lunch was being ordered when the phone rang again and I was pleasantly surprised by the caller. Shashi Nair had metamorphosed from friend to philosopher. He was taller than me in all dimensions. My last hurdle towards enlightenment has always been resentment and he was someone I looked up to for inspiration.
He was hosting a rendezvous at his home as Dara was returning back home on Thursday. I told him about the appointment with the doctor at 5 pm and promised to be there as soon as possible. Today was my Dad’s birthday and he would have been 91! Suddenly I felt like celebrating and wished for the day to end on a right note.
I booked an Ola for the wife and daughter and once again walked out of the hotel to board a bus to Bangur Nagar. I had already logged two and a half hours and set about 45 minutes more to my next destination. Scanned the ET for important news and lingered the most on the editorial, the speaking tree and the international news. Checked the latest aspiration on Panache as the bus cruised ahead on light traffic.
The assistant doctor grilled us for two hours asking questions right from birth to date. The consulting doc questioned us for another half an hour before checking her and handing out medicines for the week. Hailed another Ola and it was nearing 9 pm when we reached home. Had a quick shower and followed instructions from the daughter on what to wear for the evening. Caught a bus again for Thakur Village and at the dot of 10 entered Challengers I and took the lift to 2001. I had logged almost six hours of travelling for the day.
All the guests had arrived when Shashi opened the door to a welcome with a hug. Shashi at 6 feet 3 was half an inch taller, an eternal bearded calm about him. I have lost track of the duration of our friendship but I feel a tremendous joy whenever we meet, like now.
Narayan, the quintessential daughter’s father, with the fashionably haggard looks waved at me. Prasad was still reveling in the 50th birthday celebration week. Dara, the visiting Canadian and Ujval the silent observer. I said Hi to the hostess Manju, Shashi’s better half and the hostess of the evening. Shashi came back from the kitchen with a tall half litre pilsner glass and a bottle of Heineken’s. He poured a generous head and I had to suppress myself from grabbing the glass and chugging it … for etiquette sake. I lifted the glass and toasted to everyone’s health, wealth and happiness with a special cheers to Dara. I opened my mouth to let in the civilisation’s second born liquid, cold, feeling the zest of the hops and the sweetness of the barley.
The conversation meandered randomly as I was soaking in the beer and the world seemed to be at its happiest level. Narayan was describing London’s unpredictable weather which led to Toronto and Ottawa. Dara talked about the Québécois and their special status like our Kashmiris.
Supriya arrived carrying with her, usual cheerfulness triggering good humour all around. I flitted from conversation and was talking about food with the girls. Something’s Fishy and the celebrity ridden Melting Pot at Juhu. I reminisced the day when Krishna Raj Kapoor had arrived with her gang which included Sadhana, Nimmi, Nanda, Helen, women we dreamt about in our teenage years. The day when I missed meeting the nightingale of India or the day when we had to send a car to pick up ladyfish from another restaurant to  serve Ranbir with Rishi and Neetu. The day, quietly watching Sachin from the corner of the front office.
All the while Manju was magically refilling the plates with farsan, peanuts, broccoli mushrooms, fried chicken legs, the indigenous cheese omelet which was a delicacy to savour. The Glenfiddich, Absolut, and the Hieneken were slowly gaining approval when Maker’s Mark made its surprise entry. The dinner call was once again ignored for another round of drinks.
It was past midnight when the dinner was laid out by magician Manju. Chicken curry, chapatis, appam, dal rice and vegetables. Flying in and out of the kitchen with refills and ambidextrously flipping chapatis in  one burner and appams in another was a feast for the eyes. I ate like never before and even helped myself to a portion of rice as Ujval looked on approvingly. A Baskin Robbins butter scotch my all-time favourite appeared like an awaited miracle. Nothing could go wrong now. It was finally time to bid adieu and I hugged Manju and promised her something.
It was nearing 2 am as I waited alone for my ola to arrive outside the gates of the Challengers and found myself at peace again.

A passage from the upcoming “A SUCCESSFUL LOSER - MEMOIRS”


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