Bom Bahai Dairies 9- Bhaijaan

Nazir would go to the annual Urs at the Mahim Dargah almost every day.  He was a smart young man in his early thirties with a clean-shaven look and would usually wear jeans and T-shirts. He was fascinated with the Mahim Urs festival since the time he was a kid. He had heard miraculous things about this place from his father who had said that this was the dargah of the renowned Makhdum Faikh Ali Mahimi who lived between 1272 to 1431. He was married to the sister of Sultan Ahmed Shah of Gujarat and was given the title of Qutb-e- Kokan.  Hazrat Mahimi was renowned all across the world for his unique interpretation of the Holy Quran and had written over a hundred books in Arabic. Each year, believers both Hindus and Muslims visit his shrine and there is a mela organized nearby on the beach. The annual ten day starts with a traditional procession from Mahim Police Station, believed to be the site of Mahimi’s residence. Two police officers from each of the eighty four city police stations take part in the procession and a representative of Mumbai police offer the first Chadar (a piece of ornate spread made of silk cloth or flowers) at the tomb.

One evening while returning from the dargah, he saw a little boy wandering aimlessly and going round and round the tomb. He had seen the boy hanging around in his previous two visits as well and he found it very strange. He walked up to the boy and asked… Who are you and what is it that you are doing here all alone? People who come here seeking blessings of Baba either tie a string in one corner of the dargah or place a chadar of flowers or cloth on top. The boy gave Nazir a lost and blank look as if he had not heard or understood anything. Nazir offered the boy water from a bottle he was carrying and the boy gulped it down in no time. He sure was thirsty. He next asked….What is your name and who are you here with? The boy did not answer any of the questions. Nazir took the boy aside and then tried to communicate with his fingers and facial movements as if playing dumb-charades. But nothing seemed to work on the boy. Nazir felt sorry of the boy and felt that it was his duty to reunite the kid with his family.  Maybe that is what his God was wanting him to do.

He walked the boy to the fair/ mela on the beach. It was his belief that in case the boy would have got lost in the crowd at the fair, surely his parents would have lodged a complaint with the police stationed there. The boy’s eyes lit up when he saw the beautifully illuminated stalls and the children enjoying the swings and the giant wheel. Nazir was himself quite afraid of the big wheels, so he allowed the boy to try his hand at the air gun stall with balloons and a ride on a mini train. At one stall, the boy even laughed aloud when he saw a man put a burning paan into his mouth. Later, on enquiry at the police booth at the fair, Nazir was disappointed to find out that there had been no lost and found cases in this year’s Urs celebrations. He wondered, how he would reunite the kid with his family.

Nazir, the good man, with his hand movements, asked the boy if he would like to eat something. The boy nodded his head saying yes. Nazir took him to the lane where he first offered the famous Baba Falooda but the boy showed no interest. A few steps ahead, there were heaps of biryani and pulao. Again, the boy nodded his head left to right saying no. Ok, you do not want rice but have halwa parantha. This is a very special dish and you will not get it anywhere else. The boy watched the man cooking the giant parantha in a huge frying pan and the shopkeeper tearing pieces of the fried paratha and adding heaps of what looked like sweet halwa made from reddish boondi and then selling it to people who had queued up to buy the delicacy. Again, a big no was the boy’s reply. A little further down, Nazir showed the boy some kebabs on skewers; once again, the answer was a complete no.  One of Nazir’s friends who was watching this agonizing walk down the food street suggested that it is quite possible the boy does not like non-vegetarian food.

Why don’t you try taking him to some vegetarian eatery? He may not be liking what you are offering.

Yes, maybe you are right, brother, so can you suggest some place I could take the boy?

For the best vada pav, you should go to Ashok Vada Pav near Kirti College, but it being Sunday the shop will be closed. You can take a cab from here and go straight to Prakash at Dadar where you can get really good snacks.

And, so they hopped into a kali-peeli (yellow and black) cab and off they went to Dadar. The taxi driver knew the place well and reached there without even opening his Google Maps.

The little boy's eyes lit up and he happily walked into the Prakash Shakahari Upahaar Kendra which was started in 1947 in South Mumbai by the Joglekar family and then after a couple of decades shifted to its present address near Shivaji Park. People throng here for authentic Maharashtrian food. Nazir asked the person serving to bring a couple of their most famous dishes. First came the two round balls of sabudana vadi, and then a plate of missal puri. Normally puri is eaten with bhaji (gravy) of potato and onion), but here what was served was very different. The bowl of lentil curry with namkeen and chopped onions on top was turned over and you had to eat the piping hot puris with the misal. The food was very tasty and filling. The boy gave a look of feeling good at having finally eaten some food of his liking.

After eating the boy washed his hands in the basin nearby and then tried to take out the handkerchief from his pocket in the shorts. Along with the handkerchief came out a small identity card. Nazir was now very happy to see on the I-card that the boy’s name was Vicky and he was a student of Montessori School at Vasai.  There was the phone number of the school. Nazir called the number but the phone on the receiver’s end kept ringing and no one picked it up. He realized that the school would be shut on Sundays and therefore there was no one was around. He then saw there was another handwritten number on the back of the card. Nazir called on that number and someone on the other end picked up on the first ring itself.

Hello… is this Vicky’s home number?

Yes, it is but Vicky is missing for the last three days…said a sobbing woman.

Are you his mother?

Yes, but why? Who are you?

I am Nazir and your son, Vicky, is here with me. I found him at the Mahim fair this evening.

Thank you so much Nazir. We had almost given up hope after having lost him at the fair. Where are you now?

I am at Dadar. Please come and take him home. Where shall I wait for you?

I will be coming by the next available train and get off at Dadar Station. There is a Mama Kane shop that Vicky knows well. We often go there for snacks after visiting Siddhi Vinayak temple. You wait for me outside the restaurant. Thank you so much, Nazir, you are a savior.

A happy Nazir said…Vicky, let us go to Mama Kane’s shop…your mother said you know the place. Take me there, will you. Your mother will come soon to take you home.

Vicky was now in his elements and he upped his pace. Nazir had to fight hard to keep in step with the little lad who seemed to know every turn and pot hole around the place and the way he walked through the heavily crowded streets was a masterclass in gliding through the crowded Mumbai streets.  After a while, he stopped at a small shop just outside the Dadar Station and pointed his finger in the direction of the eating place. Nazir was quite surprised that the boy showed an inclination to eat more despite having had a couple of heavy snacks at Prakash. The man had no control over the situation and just followed the little boy who was ushered to an empty table by a waiter. The boy confidently looked at the menu card and pointed to two items-missal pav and thallipeeth. The waiter said…Good choice.

The food here in the iconic and century old eatery, Mama Kane Swatchha Griha is a must go destination for a taste of Mumbai. Started by Narayan Vishnu Kane in 1910 as Dakshini Brahmananche Swatchha Upahar Griha, the son Shankar Kane made the place to well-known and ran it from 1935 to 1965. His nephews and the customers started calling Shankar as Mama and the eatery then adopted the name Mama Kane. The place is known for quality ingredients and hygiene and is frequented by film, stage and political personalities where they indulge in simple Maharashtrian delicacies.

By the time, Vicky and Nazir finished eating the two dishes, a woman with twin girls in their teens rushed to the table where the duo was seated. Vicky, too, stood up and started crying Aayi..Aayi. The two girls, possibly his elder sisters, also wrapped their arms around the mother and Vicky and started crying. After a while, the mother thanked Nazir profusely for taking care of Vicky and reaching out to them. As they were leaving for the station, Vicky turned back one last time to look at Nazir who was feeling happy at having been able to accomplish a good deed. Vicky freed his hands from his mother’s iron clasp and ran towards Nazir. The little boy wrapped his arms around his benefactor’s thighs, then turned his face up and said Khoop Aabhar Mama (thank you very much Uncle). Nazir lifted the boy up in his arms and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheeks and then put him down. Vicky now went back to his mother and sisters and walked out of the place. Nazir paid the bill and gave the person serving them a substantial tip and then he too walked away to take a train to his home in Kurla.

Vicky & SS

Of Friends Old and New

Old Wine 

To go or not to go… three times I asked the office help desk for the Mumbai-Delhi-Mumbai fares.  About twenty days ago, the fare was about eleven thousand, but with a huge assignment in hand, the mind said… forget it, say no. A week later, checked again, the fares had soared to thirteen thousand. The heart silently said, go man. Then, hell broke loose. SixE turned not so SexY… with thousands of flights getting cancelled, I decided to give the reunion a miss. Wrote to my mates, who felt bad but understood and accepted and the final list of thirteen attendees was drawn out minus me. Then some sort of normalcy returned and a day before the get-together, just couldn’t resist myself and booked the tickets. The heart overruled the mind and the pocket. With five of the original set of friends having bid a final hurrah, a voice within said… just go kyonki zindagi na milegi dobara. Some things in life are simply priceless and you would not miss them for anything. For there are friends and then there are those who are more than a lifetime-wale friends. 

The joy on the faces when they saw the unexpected fourteenth horseman arrive was something that made the long journey worth every penny spent. Warm hugs, tight hugs and big smiles happened all around and the party got going full speed ahoy. Sometimes people at our homes wonder why this annual reunion is so important… difficult to say why this tradition has been going on for almost 21 years except a couple of years in between that were lost due to the pandemic. Sometimes the attendance is good and friends from across the seas also fly down and at times only a handful come together. But the annual meet of Section 10-C SCS in Nov or Dec is like any festival in India where dates depend upon stars and constellations and here it is usually arrival of a migratory bird from down under. 

If I were to think of some logical reasons why the annual get-together of this Band of Brothers, as the group of men in their early sixties call themselves, happens year after year, it would not be easy but I have tried to put together a few.

a.   Having been together for over fifty years, this one bond of friendship seems to be oldest in their lives, for even the parents of most of these men are no longer there. This is more like brotherhood that binds them together. 

b.  They know each other to the core and share the darkest of secrets knowing fully well that things said here will remain within the group. That’s the Code of Brothers and has never been hacked. 

c. While some have gone on to become big industrialists and professionals, here those designations and individual wealth do not matter. When they meet and start talking, everything melts away just like yesterday. 

d.  There is no sense of competition and jealousy that you might find in the groups that are formed in professional institutes and later on in working life. By then innocence is lost and scrape a layer, the comparisons of who did what and how much money the other makes comes out. 

e. There is zero element of politics and religion discussed and shared in the group, the sure shot reasons that create heartburns and schisms and often exist in most groups. 

f.    Everyone knows how many times the other has been caned by the Irish Brothers and what other embarrassment one may have encountered in those early days, the thrashing by the Hindi teacher… everything spills out and so do peals of laughter. In the group, it was ok to be stupid then and it is ok to stay stupid even now. 

g.  Boys talk of having seen something about the gorgeous looking elocution teacher, the sneak-peek of the biology teacher while getting the notebooks corrected and close encounters with the beauties in the girls’ school across the barbed wire and green fencing, all come out of the closet and they behave as if they are still in their teens. Some, of course, can be ruled out as folk tales but they still make you laugh as adolescents and you never question their authenticity. 

The few hours of togetherness in one year are something we all look forward to. Like in Dil Chahta Hai, Saif Ali Khan says, hum cake ke liye kahin bhi jaa sakte hain (we can go anywhere to eat cake), similarly, the Band of Brothers say, hum iss ek din ke liye, kuchh bhi kar sakte hain (for this one day of meeting in a year, we can go to any length). These friends make life, a lot more fun. Finally, let me quote the tennis ace, Maria Sharapova, who once said, ““It's easy to impress me. I don't need a fancy party to be happy. Just good friends, good food, and good laughs. I'm happy. I'm satisfied. I'm content.” Seeing this perfect quote from her, the boys are willing to make one exception and induct the beautiful Maria into their group. 

Barfi

Lately, D and I have found a new friend who we long to meet every evening while at our walks. We met him a couple of months ago and he seemed pretty uninterested and bored. He would be in his four-wheeler and would hardly look at us. Slowly he started noticing the two oldies walking together, day after day, while he had his own companion who would not leave his side. A few more months passed and now he would sit up and give us a smile once in a while. Another month passed and he realised that these are good people, people who he can be friends with. And today the situation is that on days when we are unable to go for the evening walks, we miss meeting our friend more than our walks. On days when I am away and only D gets to meet this friend, the first thing I want to know while connecting with her is, …did you meet him…what happened? 

Meet our latest best friend Gabbu. He is thirteen months old and still in his diapers but he is truly…nappy mein bhi happy. He never cries and is always smiling. He still moves around in his pram but is someone we long to meet every day. Maybe he too feels the same, so we think, but apart from a little ..mee hee…aa aa… he is still to utter words. Gabbu may not be able to talk as of now but he shows some extraordinary behavioral traits. 

Even when he is some distance away with his pram facing the other way, if I clap aloud even once, he turns back instantly and knows his friend has arrived. He will start clapping himself with his tiny hands till I reach close to him when he will throw up his little hands, saying, take me in your arms Big Brother. He is definitely fond of me for I run with him, make him sit atop cars while he bangs his palms on the roofs, he is happy to see his reflection on the window panes of cars parked in the colony and take him anywhere he points his hands to. D is also very fond of him but if I am around, he insists on coming to me but then he has understood that this other walking mate of mine is not happy at what he is doing. He then goes to her arms initially for no more than sixty seconds and then having paid his toll tax, puts up his hands towards me…now take me Buddy. Smart Boy, indeed. 

On those days when I am not around, the little master is a different person. Earlier he would just lie down in his pram and keep smiling at D, mocking at her, saying… no, no, no…I am not coming to you. But nowadays he has realised, something is better than just sitting in the pram all through the evening and this lady is able to do a lot of what my other friend did. He now quickly goes to her arms and then tries to make her do all that I do to him; all his instructions are with his hands and eyes. On days when we are out walking and he is nowhere to be seen, other walkers who see us playing with him daily, ask us… where is he? We just smile and say, we are also looking for him. We, too, look a bit lost with every passing round of the walking circuit and hope, he will be there in the next. Sometimes he comes into view and we feel overjoyed and at times, he doesn’t, and we return home disappointed. We think of doing an extra round on days, hoping we might see him at least once. 

One day, Gabbu’s father had him in his arms and on seeing me, he jumped straight into my arms as if telling his dad, this guy is more fun than you. Strangely, however, one evening, Gabbu was in his mother’s arms and when we passed by, he acted as if he did not know us at all. I tried to make faces and did some antics, something like Ranbir Kapoor in Barfi, but this young friend of ours saw me and showed no signs of recognition… he looked at his mom and possibly gave her a look to say… who is this funny man, I don’t know him, do you? Why is he acting loony, Mom? That, I suppose is the connect of the umbilical cord every child has and proved to us that the magic of a mother’s touch is stronger than any relationship. Even little Gabbu knows it well at this infant stage. 

Soon Gabbu will grow up and have friends of his own age, with whom he can play, talk and do innumerable things. Will he be the Little Dennis or Calvin? Who knows, but surely, he will grow up and long after we have gone, have a Band of Brothers of his own. We wish him and his family well. See you in the evening Buddy.

Yesterday Once More

A year ago, it was the hundred and twenty-fifth year celebrations of their alma mater at Delhi, and the one batch that had passed out many years ago decided that they should have their reunion along with the college celebrations. While there was huge enthusiasm in the WhatsApp group during the preparatory stages, when it came to calling the roll of people who were confirming to join the celebrations, the numbers dwindled drastically especially for the ones who were out of station. The whole plan fizzled out. A year later, there was a near consensus that the reunion would happen, come what may, and the confirmations were sent in by many. It was agreed that even if the numbers were not big enough, the party would happen. And, the much-awaited night had arrived. The venue was the college teachers’ common room that was booked on special request and the other arrangements of food, beverages, decorations and music were organized by a couple of local influential batchmates.

As per the invitation card, the time given was 7pm. One lady in a silk saree came in very early and just sat on the couch placed in the room while admiring the decorations including some old photographs of the batchmates taken during their tenure at college and the trip to Nainital. One picture caught her attention… it was the one taken on the last day of college when a small farewell had been hurriedly arranged. She tried putting a name against each of the people in the frame when a voice from behind shouted… Hi Rekha! She recognized the voice even after so long and turned to see Dhaval. Yes, he had turned old, some grey strands were still left on the balding pate… a thick frame over the eyes covered most of his face. He was casually dressed in a colourful beach shirt and a pair of jeans. What remained unchanged over the years was his gentle smile that said… here’s a good guy.

Rekha was so happy seeing Dhaval that she rushed to him with her arms open and gave him a warm hug. Dhaval was taken aback by her spontaneous show of affection for she was the, calmest, quietest and shyest of all in the class and he hardly could remember any instance in the past where Rekha had shown such emotions. He looked at her, smiled and said... That was some way to start a reunion. She shouted… Arrey Motu, you did not confirm in the group that you were coming?

You are right. After last year’s fiasco, I thought this year too it would be a damp squib but when I saw many signing on, I too booked my tickets.

We seem to have forgotten the time sense of Dilliwalahs and have arrived before time. I am sure they will start trooping in not before 8 pm. Let us walk around the college campus and see what all has changed.

That’s a good idea… let’s go.

The duo walked the college corridors and went to the first floor of the building where they had their classes. While the exterior of the building looked all spruced up with fresh paint the rooms looked pretty much unchanged except for the strong wooden benches which had given way to smart modular chairs with arm rests and the frontal writing piece. The rooms were all locked so they went out where once the hostel stood. A fresh modern construction was coming up. For the old timers who had lived the best part of their college days in the hostel, the thought of demolishing the old hostel was heart breaking. Later when the news got around, some even suggested retaining a small portion of it as a memorial.

We met our best of friends, had the best of times and turned from boys to men while living those three beautiful years in the hostel…, said Dhaval with sadness in his voice.

I am sure they will make a bigger and more beautiful hostel, one in which girls will also find a place to stay.

The two then walked towards the huge playground and sat down on a bench with cool winter breeze blowing and the stars shining on a clear night.

How have you been? It is almost forty years since we last met.

Yes… life has been good. No complaints. Forty years just went by moving from cantonment to cantonment and city to city, bringing up two girls and managing my world all alone the last twenty-six years.

The two got chatting with the cool winter breeze kissing their faces.

Although Dhaval had not met Rekha all this time, he was well aware about her life through some common friends. Soon after college, Rekha had married Dhananjay who was a year senior to them in college. Dhananjay also happened to be Dhaval’s room-mate in the hostel. People used to jokingly say theirs was the Dhak Dhak Room, because of the first three letters of their names and also the fact that the two were die-hard romantics. Dhananjay was the most sought-after senior in History for not only was he tall and good looking, he was also the topper of his batch. Junior girls would often reach out to him for his tutorials which everyone said they were the best in the university.

Dhaval, however, was in a world of his own. For him college meant playing cricket and trying to get into the famed college team which always had a couple of India capped players. Selection to the college team would mean visibility in the bigger arena so he could play higher level of cricket. He seldom attended classes and never bothered his senior room-mate for any help in studies. One day, Dhaval was sitting in the cafeteria with Dhananjay enjoying the special burger which was no more than a fried aloo tikki inside a big bun and a whole lot of ketchup on the round paper plate. She was a slim girl with short hair and wore a smart checked shirt over a pair of jeans. What struck Dhaval was her light eyes. She did not even look at the round baby-faced Dhaval and straightaway stood before the handsome man and extended her hand of friendship… Sir, I am Rekha Sharma from first year History Honours. I would like to borrow your tutorials on Chinese History for a few days and after making copies, I shall return them to you.

Dhananjay was quite used to such requests and, even without looking at her, he said, I have already given them to someone else. Check with me after a few days and if I have them then and you are the first to approach me on that day, I shall be happy to give them to you.

The girl looked disappointed and was turning away when Dhaval spoke to Dhananjay…Boss, de do na (Boss, just give it). I think she has to submit her paper in a couple of days. If I remember correctly, your Chinese History tutorials are still there in the file. You have given away the ones on Ancient Indian History.

Is that so? Ok then, Motu, go to the room and bring them to me.

Dhaval was very happy that he was of help to the pretty girl and her smile said it all. Being a spin bowler, he never had to run fast but today was different. He was running like the fastest man on earth then, Carl Lewis. By the time he came down with the tutorials, he saw Dhananjay and Rekha enjoying tea and sharing some casual talk. Dhananjay took the papers from Dhaval and gave them happily to the girl. He then asked Dhaval to get some snacks for the two of them and Motu silently did what his senior asked of him. While he was completely made to look like a Man Friday to the senior, Motu had now got a reason to go to the classroom. That made him happy and he knew he could be with Rekha much more than his senior, and the thought of it made him punch a hole in the air.

Dhaval tried going to the class but often found himself sitting in the last row while Rekha would be up there in one of the front rows. He dared not go up for the fear of the lecturer asking him some question and, more importantly, disturbing his intermittent naps. While all this was happening, Rekha was oblivious of his presence and was making it a point to go to the cafeteria everyday post the lectures and meet Dhananjay. After a cup of masala chai, they would go to the library and be there for hours together. Motu remained the silent admirer of Rekha and an errand boy to Dhananjay. Soon after college, Dhananjay joined the armed forces as per the tradition of his family, much to the surprise of all in the college where everyone had thought he would clear the civil services in his first attempt. Dhaval continued his life in college and university; he did his post-graduation for the namesake for all he wanted was to play cricket at the college level. He, finally, succeeded in getting into the prestigious college team and also made it to the university eleven. Thereafter, he got a job with the Indian Railways on sports quota and travelled from place to place. Rekha and Dhananjay soon got married but Dhaval was surprised that his senior did not invite him despite being the best of friends. Anyway, after forty long years, he had met Rekha that night. Dhananjay had been martyred in the 1999 Kargil War.

Rekha broke the long pause… I think it is time for us to head back to the party room. I am sure some folks would have surely come in by now.

Dhaval agreed and the two walked back to find the room full of people and they rushed in to meet the friends of old. There were excitement and laughter all around. Quickly the bottles were uncorked and glasses filled with sparkling wine and best of whiskey. For some it still remained good old lemonade and mojito. You could feel the energy in the room and after a while the music stopped and people sat down and a few took to karaoke and others to singing without any music. All the talent was pouring out as the spirits were getting downed. Sanjay clapped his hands a couple of times and asked others to listen to his important announcement…

Ladies and Gentlemen, now we will listen to some poems written during the college days and I had asked Dhaval to get the same old red diary he used to write with his pen in his beautiful handwriting. Only some of us have had the good fortune of listening to them before but who did he write them for is still a mystery to us.

What Motu and poetry? Since when?

Sanjay exclaimed… he is our chhupa-rustam …. Don’t you remember when the lecturer asked us all to write an impromptu answer to the question, What is History’? While all of us were struggling to quote from E.H.Carr’s book of the same name, Motu wrote a poem in those thirty minutes saying why we should not study history which the lecturer found not just amusing but quite extraordinary. So now, presenting the one and only Shaiyar-e-azam of our batch.

What followed next was… irshaad irshaad…by many giving a cue to Dhaval to recite.

Dhaval pulled out an old red diary from his bag and randomly flipped a few pages and read out some of his poems, each better than the other and all with a common theme… praising his loved one…. her beauty…her smile... her dreamy eyes and most of all expressing his intense longing of her. Each of the poems was written in chaste Hindi and if one were to close one’s eyes, it would be easy to get transported into the most romantic world of the poet. With every poem read, the applause grew louder. Everyone was exclaiming aloud their appreciation and Dhaval, for once, felt like a hero in the class where he was branded an outsider. Rekha was clapping but had a very worried look on her face. She had read these poems before. These were the same ones that Dhananjay had written for her during their courtship. He would give her as and when he wrote a new one. These were the letters that made her fall so deeply in love with the man. Dhaval is a fraud and a cheat! How dare he take credit for something that he has not written?

Once the reunion cake was cut, people ate food and started trooping out, Rekha walked up to Dhaval and sternly asked… Are you sure all these poems you read out are yours? Don’t you feel bad for lying… each of them was written by Dhananjay with his initial at the end. You must have flicked his diary. Give it back to me.  You are a loser and will always be one.

Dhaval smiled and, without any hesitation, handed the red diary to Rekha and walked away. Rekha opened the diary and saw the poems, the scribbles, sketches and scratches done while writing the poems and the same initial in Hindi at the end of each poem.  She wondered who the real ‘Dha’ was…her Dhananjay or the imposter Dhaval? Or was it the other way round? She sat down on the college steps, put her head between her palms and cried. Wished she had not come to the reunion.

SS

Tusky

The sun had set in the dense forest of Mudumalai. The chirping of the birds had ended. All the animals had taken to the retreat. Did I say all? No, not all. All except Jumo, the baby elephant, who was restless. He had wandered away from the main herd and was standing on an elevated patch near a little stream making two distinct sounds… one that was shrill as if calling someone and the other one that you could say sounded like someone sobbing. He stood there crying relentlessly despite the forest becoming darker by the minute and knowing well that a lonely baby elephant would be an easy prey to the predators who were at large in the jungle.  Hearing his cries, the matriarch of the herd and some other elephants came running to Jumo and tried to pacify him with their trunks, gently rubbing him from the head to the where the little tail hung on.

Why are you here Jumo and where is your father?

Jumo started howling and said… Papa Tusky and I were playing here since the afternoon. Then Papa was trying to show me how to kick. He kicked the fruit ball hard and it went flying across to the other side of the stream. Papa said that he would get me another ball but I insisted on playing with the same one. Papa then swam across the stream to the other side and started looking for the ball. He has not come back from there since. I have been calling him back but he is not paying any heed to my cries. I am sure he is angry with me for being so stubborn and that is why he is not coming back.

Tusky

The matriarch, Paddy, realized that Tusky, the one with the biggest tusk in the herd and father to Jumo was missing. She now lifted her trunk above her head and blew the trumpet a couple of times. The sound was so loud that it could be heard in any part of the jungle and wake up the sleepiest of all animals. This was a call for Tusky to return. All the other elephants waited eagerly to see if there was any movement on the other side of the stream. Alas, there was none!

Hmmm… this is not good. As we all know, on the other side of the stream lies the Bandipur forest which is the domain of our sworn enemies, the tigers. This water body acts as the natural border between their territory and ours. They do not venture to our side and we do not put a foot on theirs. Any violation is dealt with utmost severity and death to the intruder is guaranteed. That is the rule that has been in place for many generations and allows peaceful co-existence in our respective lands. Tusky knew this very well and yet made the mortal mistake of sneaking into the tiger territory.

It is all my fault… why did I do it… Papa please come back… I will be a good boy and never ever trouble you… boo hoo hoo.. Papa, I am sorry… come back please…

Paddy and Jumo

Paddy went close to Jumo and started holding him tight with her trunk… don’t worry, baby. Your Papa will come back soon. He is the pride of our herd. We will find him if he does not come home on his own. But for now, let us go back and sleep. Going into tiger territory at night would be taken not as an intrusion but as an invasion and a full-scale war will erupt between the cats and the pachyderms. The result will be bloody and the jungle will never ever look the same. Come Jumo, stay with me tonight.

Jumo obeyed Paddy and walked away. He could not sleep at all and was restless. Paddy, too, did not sleep for she knew what the baby was going through.

Next morning, by the time Jumo woke up, he saw two people who he recognized. They were Bomman and Bellie, B&B in short. These were strange human beings who could understand the elephant language and also communicate with them. The elders called them Elephant Whisperers but to Jumo, they were the kind-hearted people who played with the baby elephants often and the fathers never suspected any ill of them. Paddy had communicated to B&B the problem and, along with them, walked to the stream. Bomman and Bellie took a long staff in hand and tied a piece of white cloth and swam across the stream to Bandipur, the tiger land. Over the years, the tigers too had seen the couple and had somehow accepted them as being neutrals if not friends.

Musa

The elephants saw B&B talk to the tiger king, Musa, and his tribe who were all out in the open and ready for a war if they saw any infiltration from the other side. It looked like a pretty animated talk and sometimes it was looking like the tigers were getting angry and showing their fangs. After some tense time, the two whisperers turned around and swam back to the Mudumalai elephant forest zone. They spoke aloud for all the elephants to hear what had transpired on the other side.

Bomman spoke…Listen O Gentle Pachyderms! The tigers have said that they did not hurt Tusky yesterday. They had gone to the other part of the jungle for a feast arranged for them by their leopard cousins of Kabini forest. They have reluctantly allowed you to enter their territory for just one day to search for Tusky. They will not attack any of you and you too should stay away from getting into any fight with them. Bellie and I will accompany you in this search operation and will do all communication with the tigers, should the situation so arise. I hope I have made the terms clear and you promise to honour the same?

Watchful Tigers

All the elephants, including Jumo, lifted their trunks and trumpeted in unison as the tigers looked on to this majestic scene unfolding before their eyes. The matriarch led the herd into the water and at the tail were Bomman and Bellie who wanted to be a part of the search party and also had a special work of keeping Jumo in control. As the elephants walked out of the water, the tigers simply stood aside in two rows as if giving a guard of honour. In normal times, this would have been the scene of the bloodiest battle ever fought on land, but not today. Today was the day to find Tusky.

The elephants spread out across the forest in order to cover more area and quickly find out where Tusky was. After a while, the elephants heard Paddy’s loud trumpet which was a signal that they need to assemble where the matriarch stood. Jumo was very excited as this could possibly mean Tusky, his father, had been located. He started running in the direction from where the trumpet blew. B&B asked him to slow down, but Jumo was determined to reach the appointed place quickly and meet Tusky again. By the time Jumo reached the place, almost all other elephants had already made their way there and had their heads hanging down in sadness. Jumo saw his father Tusky lying still on the ground that had turned red. He saw that Tusky’s famed tusks were missing. Jumo was in tears... he was inconsolable…the elephant whisperers took him aside and kissed him and wiped his tears. Jumo lay down on the ground with his eyes fixed on Tusky… my father…my dear father…

Elephants looking at Tusky

The news reached the tigers who also came running to the spot and saw the terrible scene. The Whisperers went close to Tusky and saw that on his forehead were a couple of deep wounds caused by bullets fired from large-caliber guns. It was clear to all who had gathered that Tusky had been killed by hunters who not only killed animals for gaming but took away the most precious parts for their gain. Paddy and the tiger king, Musa, stepped aside and spoke…

This is a grave danger to both the tribes. We too have lost some of ours to bullets lately. They have to be found and taught a lesson before they kill any more of us.

Yes. I agree. For the sake of the peace in the jungle, let us work together in this mission. Let us search, find and eliminate the enemy who lurks dangerously in our realm. We need to find these unwanted creatures quickly before they can do any further damage to the beauty of the jungle.

Suddenly, a vulture, with the biggest wingspan landed where the two leaders were talking. This was Kamu, the vulture king. Ugly looking creature with dark big eyes, sharp beak and a head that looked drenched in blood.

Kamu- courtesy Wiki

I know that the two of you think of me and my people as outcasts and below your dignity to talk, walk and share anything with. For generations you have spread bad things about us but we can have this conversation on another day. Today, I offer my help to you to find out the killers. We have the best eyesight and a nose that can small blood and flesh from great distances. Forget who we are and what we do as scavengers, take our hand of friendship now and you will not regret it.

Paddy and Musa, stepped back a few steps from Kamu. They had their mutual dislike for vultures and other scavengers.  The duo spoke in a language only they could understand and then moved ahead towards Kamu. Paddy spoke… Thank you Kamu for the help. We are ready to work on this search mission with your tribe. We agree that you will be an invaluable ally in this mission.

Kamu smiled… Thank you for accepting us as a part of the jungle tribe for once. As a mark of our goodwill, I assure you that none of my people will touch Tusky who can be given a good clean send off in the manner you deem fit.

Paddy nodded in appreciation of this one kind gesture and now the three took off in search. In no time, Kamu signaled to Paddy and Musa that the enemy had been sighted. The trio once more assembled and Kamu spoke…

At one end of Bandipur are two tents which seem to have been recently pitched. My people have also seen some big wheeled things there. The people are carrying things from the tent to the big wheels. They seem to be in a hurry.

That place is quite some distance from here. They will possibly go away by the time we reach there.

Kamu smiled… You will take time, but not us. We will reach there quickly and hold them back till you reach.

That would be great Kamu but be careful. These killers have guns and are dangerous.

Kamu flew away swiftly with his huge tribe of vultures that looked more like hundreds of fighter jets flying in squadron formation. They reached the place where the hunters were busy loading tusks and tiger skins when the vultures swooped down upon them with ferocity that they had never experienced before. Initially, the hunters tried to wave their guns to drive away the attackers and then they aimed their guns and fired. The vultures were experienced birds who knew about fights in the air as well as avoiding bullets fired from a one off gun. But this was a different situation, for a number of guns were blazing together now and many a bird got hit and they fell to the ground.  The birds kept attacking and distracting the hunters relentlessly despite the losses. They resembled the Kamikaze pilots of World War 2 who were ready to fly their war planes into enemy warships in a suicidal manoeuvre.  In some time, the land forces of tigers and elephants arrived and the hunters saw that they were completely surrounded by two rings of mighty animals.

Bomman and Bellie had also arrived with Jumo. They showed their white flag and went towards the hunters. Both sides were on high alert and an uneasy impasse ensued momentarily.

You have destroyed the peace of the jungle. You have killed innocent animals and birds. Your position now is completely hopeless as you will never be able to escape alive from here. Surrendering is your only chance apart from any mercy the animals show towards you. Here is Jumo, whose father you killed for taking away his ivory tusks. According to the law of the jungle, only this baby elephant who has been wronged by you can take a final call on your fate. Whatever Jumo decides will be followed. Just drop your guns now and let Jumo decide.

The other animals shouted…Jumo give death to the killers… death…  death to them all!

Jumo was very angry at the killers of his father but still in his own language spoke to B&B… If we were to kill these men today, their children will become fatherless like me. Children deserve better lives with their parents and they should not suffer the wrong doings of their fathers. Let us not do any more killing but allow them to go home without their guns and their loot. Tell them to never ever return to the jungle other than as visitors to  see us freely living in the wild.

Paddy and Musa were amazed at the maturity of the baby elephant. They asked a few of their followers to escort the hunters out of the jungle. The guns and other equipment were crushed under the trampling feet of the elephants. The two lords of the jungle decided to take the ivory and tiger skins to the banks of the stream separating the two tribes. The tiger skins were put one on top of the other and placed in the centre. The ivory tusks planted around to create a small enclosure. The Elephant Whisperers wrote a board at the entrance… Temple of Tusky.

Paddy and Musa announced… We declare, from now on, if ever a dispute were to arise between the tigers and elephants, we will come to this enclosure for mediation and avoid fights. Kamu, you and your followers will, henceforth, never be discriminated against and you will be given full citizenship status of the jungle world. This is our world and all have a role to play in maintaining harmony. All are welcome in peace to the jungle world.

SS

Gluttony sans Chuttney

The Homecoming story continues …. Today after so many years, Srini was feeling very happy and before leaving for Mala’s house he dialed his mother in the US on Facetime…

Sinu…you look so happy. I am sure you got a good darshan!

Yes, Yes Amma… I did.

Amma did not know the reason for the double Yes but for Srini it was double darshan… one was of the deity inside the sanctum sanctorum and then the utter joy and surprise of darshan of his love of yore after many years.

Srini put on an extra round of Hugo Boss perfume and combed his hair well before driving away to Mala’s house where he was welcomed by a tall and well-built man.

Bala, I presume… said Srini as if he was meeting Dr. Livingstone in the forest of Africa.

Yes… welcome Srini. Mala has been speaking about you ever since she met you yesterday.

Srini smiled and walked into the nice house with a small garden outside. Mala quickly made strong filter coffee and they had it together while Bala and Srini did some small talk. Bala then asked… how long are you going to be in Madurai?

Oh... the jealous hubby wants to pack me off quickly… and even though his return ticket to Chennai was booked for the next day, Srini said… I am in no hurry… could go tomorrow or even stay a couple of more days.

If you are leaving tomorrow, I strongly recommend that you must taste the variety of food Madurai has to offer. Mala is an expert guide in this regard. She takes all our guests around the eating joints. She could even start a vlog on the city’s cuisine.  Unfortunately, I am a pucca veggie and often stay back at home during her food fiesta tours.

Srini was very happy to learn that Mala would accompany him alone for the rest of the day but still said… it is so sad that you are not coming. We would have a great time together. You can still come and have the traditional food with sambar and chuttney.

No… no... Srini… you please carry on. I also need to be at home for Chandru here has some project that I will help complete. Enjoy the day and in case you decide to delay your travel to Chennai, we can meet again tomorrow.

Mala and Srini waved Chandru and Bala bye and hopped into the waiting cab. As the cab started moving, Mala spoke… Why are you sitting so far away… don’t worry, I promise not to repeat what happened at Saarang…and started laughing, much to the amusement of the driver seated in front.  An embarrassed Srini shifted closer by a few inches and no more.

Let us start with the most famous drink of Madurai… the Jigarthanda. So, the literal meaning of this word would mean the drink that cools the liver (jigar) but it is actually a metaphor for heart in Persian. This is made of milk, almond gum, sarsaparilla root syrup, sugar and ice-cream.

Mmmm… this is cool and really good said Srini while wiping off the drink from his lips with the paper tissue… ekdum Jigar Thanda ho gaya!

And now let me take you to another of Madurai’s specialty… this is Konar Kadai of Simmakkal and has been serving the best Kari Dosa since 1943.

Kari Dosa.. what is that? I have never heard about this dosa. If you wanted to have dosa for lunch then why did we leave out Bala?

Arrey Sinu.. kari dosa is made with the rice batter as base as in any dosa. Atop this is a layer of eggs and finally you have topmost layer of mince-meat sukha (dry), pronounced and written locally as chukka.

This is amazing stuff. Who would believe that in the temple city, you could get a dosa that is a double dose of non-vegetarian.

This food is slightly heavy and you need a little break before you eat anything else.

Mala, if you do not mind, I would like to pick up some Sungudi sarees for Amma. She always wore these hand tie and dye cotton sarees in the summers.

Of course, Srini. I know a good place which is reasonable and have a good variety…saying this she directed the driver to turn around and drive in another direction. The car stopped near a large store and they got off. All the people in the simple showroom were ladies and they were very eager to show all the varieties of sarees and dress materials they had. Srini was completely bowled over by the prices that were so cheap that he even refused to think of converting INR to USD. He picked up a couple of sarees and dress materials and was very happy with his purchase. As they sat in the car, he handed Mala one of the packets containing the most expensive saree that he had bought… please do not say no. All this would not have happened, if not for you. So, please take this as a small token.

Mala smiled and accepted the packet without any fuss.

Now let me take you to another super food of Madurai… the bun parotta.

What is a bun parotta? I have had bun-muksa in Mumbai but never a parotta.

Making this is an art. Come and see it for yourself. This is Madurai’s famous Sri Meenatchi Bun Parotta.

Srini saw one man first mixing the flour dough, nice and soft. Then, he made a number of small balls out of the lot. The next step was for the next man to then convert, with his bare hands, the ball into flat bread just like a roomali roti except that they put a lot of oil on the dough and it is much bigger and completely elastic. After rolling it well, the man, picks up the flattened piece of parotta to wrap it in the form of a ball with layers… quite similar to a ball of wool. This is then put in a huge pan of oil and deep fried till it looks like a bun. The excess oil is squeezed out and then served with chicken chukka and brain fry. It just tasted heavenly for Srini.

Do they only make non-veggie stuff in this city? I took a look at the menu card and they were selling everything from rabbit meat to quails, from fishes of all sorts to shrimps.

The city is a melting pot of cultures. You can get both veg and non-veg food in every corner and people are very open to eating habits of others and never bother with it.

Super… wish more people in the land would live like souls of Madurai. What next Mala?

I know your stomach must be almost full or overflowing but you must try another easy to digest food. This is called the Burma Iddiappam. The grandmother of the lady in the stall was born and bought up in Burma and that is how the shop got its name. you can find many other shops with this name but where I am taking you, is the original one.

Great… even if I am full or more than full, I rather drown in the food of this city than go home without tasting its special flavours.

Srini, sure was having a wonderful time with Mala in company. He now went with her to the street joint where he saw a middle-aged lady sitting with two workers making the iddiappam. She served them two rounds of iddiappam, once the white one made of rice and the other brown one which was made of jaggery. She would pour some coconut milk and sprinkle a little jaggery over it and Srini ate with his hands, enjoying every bite of it. This was really special food run, something he would never experience anywhere else. After finishing and washing his hands with the water stored in the plastic can nearby and put his hands on his tummy… I surrender… enough and no more came the cry from within.

Come, let us now visit the beautiful water tank we have in the city. This is called the Vandiyur Mariamman Teppakulam built in 1645 by King Thirumalai Nayak and has a Vinayaka temple in the middle. Plus the latest attraction here is the street food that is sold in carts all-round the periphery.

Aaiyoo Mala… no more food.

Got it Sinu. Let us walk around the lake and allow the food to get digested.

Srini started walking with her. He wanted to hold her hands while doing this last walk but stopped himself. After walking for a while, Mala saw something and said…

Sinu, you must have Paruthi Phal… this is one last thing you should taste. This is a hot drink made of cotton seeds, jaggery, ginger powder, cardamom and thick coconut milk is an excellent healthy drink that helps improve digestion and blood circulation. You will not get this anywhere else. It is really special.

Srini enjoyed drinking this Madurai special drink and then asked the driver to first go to Mala’s place and then to his hotel. En-route, Srini got a bit bold and jokingly asked... will you come and join me at the annual alumni meet?

She looked at him and simply laughed… Sinu... getting naughty, eh... and nodded her head as if saying no. She then asked him... your reunion is still a few days away, why don’t you stay back at Madurai for a some more days.

Now it was Srini’s turn to nod his head to say no… if fear if I stay longer here, I may not go back… he said jokingly.

The car reached Mala’s house and as she got off, Bala was there to receive her. Both bid Srini bye.

Srini, reached his hotel, quickly changed and hit the bed but was not able to sleep immediately. He started remembering every moment he had spent during the day with Mala, every conversation he had with her, her every move, her smile… in the end he kicked himself for having lost her when the time was right. He then remembered a book he had seen at a book fair and thought that he will send it to Mala. He smiled at himself and slept well in her company.

SS