7.
Imtiaz had three sons who were studying in a big city nearby. The younger two were genuinely interested in studying, but the eldest was there mainly to look after them and to gain a bit of freedom from his parents.
The news that had made Imtiaz treat me to sweets was no less interesting. It turned out that Imtiaz's son had bought a horse. I had certainly enjoyed the sweets, but I couldn’t figure out what Imtiaz's son planned to do with the horse in that rapidly growing city. I didn’t find out because Imtiaz himself didn’t know.
Well, well! A father should be like this. Forget about checking what the son sent away in the name of studies is actually doing, Imtiaz was happy enough to treat his friends in celebration of whatever his son was up to.
I thought of questioning Imtiaz further, but then I worried he might think I was envious of his son's success, so I kept quiet. However, I made up my mind that the next time I visited Imtiaz’s bungalow in Mansarovar, I would definitely ride his son's horse.
But that never happened. Within a few days, I learned from Tannu that his tonga horse had been sold and was likely to come to this very city because the boy who bought it lived here.
Why wander in the wilderness when the jackal’s howling can be heard right here?
During those days, business was such that I frequently had to go to Mansarovar for one reason or another. Whenever I planned to visit my brother there, Tannu would stand by like an innocent petitioner, asking to accompany me, leaving me no choice but to take him along.
When I arrived at my brother's bungalow, I was welcomed with the usual warmth. While my sister-in-law was busy preparing some hot and spicy snacks to go with the tea, my nephew sat beside me with a newspaper, eager to show me something.
It was an amusing piece of news he was showing me. A pioneering businessman in the city had started a courier service where all the delivery boys were on horseback. These mounted couriers would deliver goods to any part of the city. The inauguration of this service was reported in the newspaper. The newspaper described it as a revolutionary step in light of rising petrol and diesel prices. However, it also raised a question: had anyone thought about the chaos that would ensue on the streets due to the presence of these horses, or the mess from the horse droppings?
After making plans to go out for dinner with my sister-in-law and the kids, I quickly freshened up and left. The person I was supposed to meet lived quite far away, about twelve to fourteen kilometers. I had just arrived at the intersection near the temple after getting out of the taxi when I spotted Tanmay standing there. He was already prepared and had arrived earlier than expected.
The farmhouse we reached half an hour later was surprisingly large. I had no idea that someone could own such a vast property in such a remote and secluded place and still live so peacefully.
We were offered some date juice.
But what I had thought was surprising until then was nothing. The real wonder was still to come.
The field behind the farmhouse was spread over a vast area. As we approached closer, I could see small, shiny, black eggplants growing on the little green plants! It made my heart glad.
We were flying kites from the large terrace of my brother's bungalow. My nephew was in high spirits because, since morning, he had cut nearly a dozen kite strings and had established his own empire in his portion of the sky. Among the crowd that had gathered around, my sister-in-law and I also became like children. Various snacks kept coming from my sister-in-law's kitchen. Two or three of my brother's showroom workers also joined us in this mission. Plates of hot, steaming fritters would arrive on the terrace and be emptied in no time.
Suddenly, we heard loud laughter and whistling from some children standing at the corner of a nearby street. These sounds were different from the usual cheers of "Woh kaata" that accompany the cutting of a kite string. I leaned on the parapet and looked in that direction. At the corner, a small horse had collided with a motorcycle. Everyone around was standing as spectators.
It wasn’t really a horse, but more like a small white donkey, carrying a heavy sack. The sack had slipped to one side due to the collision and had possibly torn a bit, spilling some vegetables onto the street.
Just then, one of the boys from my brother's shop came running to the terrace and narrated the whole incident. The horse had been walking on the street, leaving droppings and urine behind, which made the road slippery. A motorcyclist, speeding past, slipped and fell near it. The sack on the horse was filled with eggplants, likely being taken somewhere to sell.
People nearby had gathered around, carefully picking up the eggplants to avoid the droppings and dirt. The horse owner, gritting his teeth, was chasing after some mischievous boys who were grabbing the eggplants and running off instead of helping him.
One of the boys was holding a small packet, teasing the horse owner with it.
I asked him, "What is that?"
He replied, "No idea. Maybe it's salt."
I said, "You're holding it and don't even know what it is?"
He responded, "I found it there on the street. It was lying with the eggplants. I handed the eggplants to the horse owner, but this remained with me." As he spoke, he carelessly tossed it off the terrace.
I said, "That must belong to the horse owner too."
"Who knows?" he muttered, a bit annoyed now because my questioning had made him forget that my brother had sent him to call me. He hastily informed me, "Your brother is calling you."
"Alright, I'll come," I said, grabbing two or three fritters in my hand and followed him down the stairs.
My brother was probably calling me to join him for tea in the showroom.
He must have thought I was sitting alone, bored, while the children were busy flying kites on the terrace. He didn’t know that I was also up there enjoying the kite flying with the kids.
A truck had just delivered some goods to my brother's showroom. All the boys were busy bringing the goods inside and arranging them neatly.
A lot of the goods in my brother's showroom were imported from abroad. Many items were also exported from here.
The weather had improved considerably. Just a while ago, it seemed like it might rain, but now the clouds had cleared.
My brother mentioned that he might have to go to Delhi tomorrow for some work at the customs office. He suggested that if I didn’t have any special plans, I could join him. But I knew that he would be busy with work the entire time, and I wouldn't enjoy the bureaucratic procedures and tedious paperwork, so I declined.
I told him, "You go ahead; we’ll play carrom!"
My brother fell silent and serious. Perhaps that was his way of smiling.
I never had the habit of sleeping in the afternoon. As a result, after playing cards for a long time in the afternoon, when Bhabhi started yawning, I suggested to the kids to study for a while and sent them to their room. I also turned on the TV and sat down. While flipping through the channels, I came across a news segment that was showing some strange and unusual news from the past week. One of the stories was about the division of billions of rupees worth of property from a former royal family in a major city, which had recently been decided by the court.
After the demise of the former queen mother of this royal family a few years ago, various family members had filed claims to stake their rights. The vast wealth of the royal family was scattered in the form of five-star hotels, forts, palaces, and gardens. Meanwhile, the small and large heirs of this enormous wealth had settled in different countries. The news channel was showing the interesting stories of how the assets were being divided following the court’s decision.
One of the family members had recently sold nearly two dozen horses that were kept in the stable connected to their palace. These horses had been used for recreational horse riding or sports. Some of the horses had even raced at the Mumbai racecourse.
It was ironic that the horses, which had earned vast wealth for the royal family during their prime by racing in the racecourse, were now, in their old age, forced to stand in cramped enclosures alongside feeble animals in rural areas. Tangas (horse-drawn carriages), which had been replaced by taxis and auto-rickshaws in large numbers in small towns, were also prevalent. Often, to avoid the cost of feeding the horses, they were sold off for a pittance.
There was a time when horses were kept in schools and colleges to teach horse riding to students. It was said that such stunts were taught to instill courage and bravery in the youth. However, with time, the scenario had changed. Now, it was understood that teaching patience and restraint to the youth was more important than courage and bravery. The need and cost of land had skyrocketed, making the hobby of horse riding as impractical as keeping a white elephant in a palace. The new generation had lost interest in horse riding.
I was thoroughly enjoying watching all of this.
I didn’t even realize when the kids came out of their study room and when Bhabhi entered the kitchen, filling the house with various delightful aromas. It was tea time.
Although my brother had said he would return tonight, he also mentioned that he might have to stay there if his work wasn’t completed.
Tanmay hadn’t come with me this time, but I had to go and meet his father in the evening. Whenever I visited here, I always made it a point to find time to meet him. Though Tanmay's father was quite assured about him now, he still naturally worried about that motherless child. While he was somewhat negligent about Tanmay when he stayed with him, he missed him all the more when he was away.
But perhaps Tanmay’s father appeared satisfied with the money Tanmay sent him and often made efforts to arrange a marriage alliance for him. On the other hand, Tanmay was so engrossed in his work that he didn’t care about his priestly father at all.
However, sometimes his father was overwhelmed with emotion, seeing Tanmay now drive a car and come to visit him.
Today was one such day.
One day, Imtiaz's sons, who were studying here, came to visit me. What surprised me was how these kids found my address. Oh, it might have been because of Tanmay since these boys didn't come to meet me at my brother's bungalow, but rather when I was at the temple to meet Tanmay's father. I thought that Imtiaz's two younger sons were focused on their studies, and only the elder one, who according to Imtiaz was prone to wandering and loitering around, might have come to see me. But no, it was the younger one, Parvez. He had some friends with him as well.
Sometimes, Imtiaz would mention that Parvez studies all night and sleeps in his room all day. I was puzzled as to when these boys actually attend college. Is there no record of their attendance? Then why do they pay such hefty fees? Perhaps the certificates hold more value than the actual learning. Anyway, why should I bother?
I asked Parvez, "Have you eaten?"
"Yes, Uncle. Today I went to my friend's hostel and ate there," he replied.
"What did you eat?" I asked. When the children of childhood friends meet far from home, this is the most appropriate question to ask to show affection.
"Brinjal with puris," he said with some indifference.
When the priest called everyone to take the prasad, everyone, including these boys, lined up and passed by the priest. The crowd around the priest couldn't tell the difference between Parvez and Praveen.
I was walking slowly outside, and for some reason, an old memory suddenly came back to me.
It was from the days when I was a student myself. I had gone to my principal to get a signature on some form, and he was talking to a sanitation worker. Rather, he was scolding him in a way. The conversation seemed to be about money. The principal was complaining that despite repeated cleaning, why do these drains get clogged so quickly? The water is always stagnant because of the garbage.
The sanitation worker was defending himself by saying that the mess staff keep throwing vegetable waste into the drains. Sometimes, even whole vegetables are found there, sir. Just yesterday, I removed two brinjals...
The boys standing nearby laughed.
The principal, instead of blaming the students, scolded the worker again, saying, "Who would throw vegetables? Do they come for free? It must have been just peels and stems."
The worker quietly responded, "They were brinjal peels, sir!"
Once again, everyone burst out laughing. The principal, looking around, smiled awkwardly and took my form. While opening the cap of his pen from his pocket, he muttered, "Brinjal peels...!"
That night, the incident was a topic of discussion among the boys in the hostel for a long time. Some of the sensible boys suggested that the worker was probably talking about the girls' hostel.
This incident was from many decades ago, and I don't know why it came to my mind today.
This time, when I wasn't home, Imtiaz had come to visit. My mother told me that he was praising me a lot. He was saying that in today's times, everyone is crazy about making money. Without caring for right or wrong, they try to turn "two and two into five" day and night. And here I am, living simply, managing my shop peacefully with employees, making time to meet relatives, and maintaining relationships with everyone. Who does that in today's world? I don't know what my mother must have said to him. And my wife, true to her nature, must have immediately assumed that Imtiaz must have needed some money from me! After all, who praises someone without a reason these days?
I remembered that I had told my sister-in-law and the kids that we would go out for dinner this evening, so I quickly headed towards my brother's bungalow. Night was falling. I wondered if my brother had returned from Delhi yet.
What a strange thing it was. When I first came here by train to meet my brother's family after his return from abroad, two boys working in my brother's showroom played a huge prank on me. One of them, pretending to be a rickshaw driver, ran away with my luggage, while the other, posing as a well-wisher, chased the rickshaw on a scooter and brought me here.
But it was the father of this boy, who played the rickshaw driver, who one day narrated this interesting incident to me.
When the boy's father found out about the prank, he came to meet me to apologize on behalf of his son, after all, I was the brother of his boss. And since then, due to his cordial and friendly behavior, I continued to have interactions with him.
He had once been a small employee at a big hotel in the city. Now, he was living a retired life. This story from his hotel job was perhaps one of the biggest highlights of his life.
Years ago, a very famous actor stayed at their hotel during the shooting of a film. No one knew that this ordinary-looking man was a big film actor. He himself had also tried his best to hide his identity and quietly stayed there for a week like a tourist. Every morning, he would leave the hotel in a taxi like any other traveler and return to his room late at night. But a few days before he was to leave, somehow, the boy's father recognized him.
He was changing clothes after returning late at night when, overhearing his phone conversation, the boy's father suddenly felt dizzy as he realized that this was none other than the famous actor Asif. At that time, he was working as a waiter, so when he went to the room to place water and ice, a jolt of electricity ran through his body. Just a few days earlier, he had seen the same man, who was now standing shirtless, talking on the phone, playing the role of the heroine's father in a film where he dragged a young man on horseback. At that moment, he could only recognize him by looking closely at his face because the wig had been removed and placed in the wardrobe.
Once recognized, they hit it off well. The actor made only one request—that his true identity should not be revealed to anyone there. After assuring him of this, the young waiter’s fortunes soared. The two became friends almost instantly.
The actor gave him a hefty reward, a generous tip, and even treated him to some fine liquor one day.
Now, that man, who had become quite old, shared a secret with me in a very confidential manner. After the actor left, the idea came to his mind that he could make money off the actor's name because the actor had mentioned that he might return in fifteen days.
He and another senior employee of the hotel made a plan to introduce some young people to that actor and even collected money from them. It was said that there would be an exclusive dinner party with Asif Sahab, where only select people would be allowed entry.
Later, Asif Sahab never returned, but a club of sorts was formed in anticipation of him. These two hotel employees later started supplying some kind of intoxicants to those who had paid to meet the actor. This continued on for some time.
As I returned home, I reflected on how life plays such games with people, giving them all sorts of experiences.
From this incident, I also realized that the people working on my brother's staff have their own peculiar stories.
Until now, I hadn’t found any evidence at my brother's bungalow that he was involved in some secret business after returning from abroad, but these small stories and experiences sometimes seemed suspicious.
I hadn’t seen any improper or suspicious use of the washroom at my brother's bungalow, which is why I hadn’t mentioned anything to my brother or any family member about it.
Perhaps I was waiting for someone in the house, if they knew about this technical marvel, to tell me about it themselves!
