It was a nice, sunny afternoon and I was driving along in my car when there suddenly came a whoosh and a bang and I discovered that the rear right wheel had somehow managed to lose it buoyancy.
I knew that life was full of surprises; all one needed to do was explore-so I decided to explore. Dismounting from my car, I found the wheel to be in a state of acute depression, looking like our cricket team after another loss. I pulled out the jack and was engaged in the complicated maneuver of turning its handle, when there was another whoosh and a bang.
My eyes opened only to emphasize a headache that was bound to blow my head apart any moment. Then it dawned on to me that I was hit by a car.
But the future is bright and tragedies are glitches on the road to happiness. I was on a cozy bed and I saw something moving, my eyes adjusted, focused and a sudden realization dawned on me. It was a nice, young gentleman, well dressed with a tie on, and looked like he was on his way to work.
"Did I hurt you, Sir?"
What a concern! What a concern!
"Huh!" I responded weakly.
"Did I hurt you, Mr…..?
"Ravi ", I blurted out somehow.
"No, most certainly not. Err where am I, how did I land up here?" I asked.
"Well, my name is Ramana" he said, "I was speeding across the countryside when I curved around a turning and found you doing strange and suspicious things in a squatting position to your wheel"
"I was changing it!" I pleaded.
"Oh, sorry, before I knew it, I had banged into you and you had lost consciousness. By the time I brought you here, you had awakened somewhat and were squawking like a plucked parrot in pain"
"You really aren't hurt, are you?"
"NO! Thank you" I shot back.
"Make yourself comfortable here, Sir, this is my home?"
I felt so comfortable that I fainted again.
Some time later I revived and found Ramana still by my side, very anxious and worried. I pitied him and we started chatting.
By now I had lost all my shock and initial hesitation. He was trying to engage me in a conversation. He talked about himself and his home.
And any conversation would naturally lead me to my life at our school.
I just fizzed forth like an uncorked bubbly, beer! There was a slight bemusement in him when I told him that I am a Saikorian. But I rumbled on.
"We had a teacher whom we really hated," I continued. "Why wouldn't we? His treatment of his subject was abominable, and he was probably the only man on this side of the planet whose attitude towards me was similar to President Bush’s to Laden, he was also our house master."
"Oh really? What did you do?" Ramana did seem interested.
I plunged on.
"He trashed me black and blue for bunking NCC one Friday evening. That night when all was calm, peace and quiet, I crept out of my bed and pulled out a razor blade"
"Oh God!" Ramana said in shock.
“No, No, wait, listen, I walked out of our dormitory into the small garden that our house master tended with great pride. His brinjal plants were about 6 inches tall. I neatly cut each one of them at their base and re-planted them. And after two days, when he noticed the plants wither and droop, we heard a scream that shook the very foundations of Gupta house.
All the boys rushed out to find our house master (HM shall we say) perform a peculiar African tribal dance in his fury.”
“There was a general suspicion among all the boys that I was responsible for it, but I kept my silence and didn’t say a word to anybody lest they sneak.”
I guffawed, reliving that hilarious incident. And was sure Ramana was delighted too.
“Looks like you enjoyed every bit of it.” Ramana said, goading to me continue.
“I didnt leave him at that.” I continued.
“One day we killed a huge snake just outside our house, and when no one was seeing I preserved the dead snake in a box, until late at night, I slowly slid it into the iron grill of the verandah and quietly went back to sleep.”
“Wow that is scary to even think of it.” Ramana said.
“The next morning, instead of the usual getup call from our house master, we heard screams, which resembled those from freshly caged monkeys.”
“All of us boys rushed to see the whole family perform a group dance around the dead snake, which is similar to a Michael Jackson’s jig.”
“Of course, HM knew it was me, but he just couldn't prove anything. He had even caught hold of me once and told me that should he ever find me on the wrong foot, he would smash me to bits and dance on my mangled remains with hobnailed boots. Ha! Ha!"
I was enjoying every bit of my recollection and laughed out so loud that shook the bed and made my head dizzy and eyes blurred. I was almost slipping back into that happy painless unconscious state.
Suddenly, Ramana stood up saying “Daddy!”
In the daze I could see an old man walk in, with a clean head, as clean as a ping pong ball.
I was bewildered; I rubbed my eyes for a clearer picture.
No mistakes, it was HM himself.
I still don't know how I managed it but I jumped out of the bed and out of the window, all in one motion. There was only one problem: I was on the second floor of the house.
Now I am in hospital, recovering from eight multiple fractures.
Ramana comes to meet me everyday to laugh at my condition for what I have done some thirty years ago.
He recollects that he participated in the Michael Jackson’s dance over the dead snake very vividly.
He leaves behind a bouquet of dead flowers and a "Get Worse Soon" card.
Rather nice of him, a true Saikorian.
Note: This is pure fiction. Any resemblance to people living or dead was just unavoidable and on purpose.
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