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Dr. Arunshankar's English version of 

॥ अभ्यागत ॥

My wristwatch was about to register 9 o’clock, and so I turned my Bullet’s[1] accelerator to up the speed.

Now I would be quite late to reach the railway station. I was naturally quite upset that the guest of my friend Sharad would have to wait for me outside the exit gate. I was cursing the potholes-strewn road and also the commuters pushing their vehicles chaotically, performing circus-like acts in such an arena.

The matter was that Vrinda, my friend Sharad’s wife, had called me early morning. A cousin of hers was arriving at 9:30 by Varanasi-Pune Express to attend a wedding ceremony. He was visiting Pune for the first time, and having the first shift to work that week, Sharad could not fetch him from the station. So Vrinda had assigned this task to me.

Accustomed to be punctual, I had left home at 8:30, with almost an hour in hand. As I reached the crossing of Nal Chowk by 9:00 the traffic signal had turned to red. No traffic constable was in sight, but nonetheless I stopped my bike short of the limiting line. Eventually the light changed to orange, I shifted into gear, and advanced.

Before anyone knew what happened, a Peshwa[2] came zooming from the left and, while trying to pass the crossing and turn right, rammed into my bike. My Bullet stood its ground, but the Peshwa’s Scooty Pep[3] pirouetted like a danseuse and collapsed on its side.

Along with the Nobleman on the pillion seat the Peshwa fell to the ground and bit the dust.

I got down, parked my bike on one side, and helped the pillion rider to get up. A few onlookers also ran forward to help and heaved the Peshwa up by his arms. We checked them both for contusions, but the pair had managed to escape with only a few abrasions.

My bullet too had received a few scratches, but the Peshwa’s royal mount had taken its final call. The Peshwa could not stomach such an affront. That he had brought it upon himself, the entire crossroads had witnessed.

Leaving aside expressing any regrets for the mishap, or thanking the onlookers for their help, the Peshwa started pouring a heap of abuses on me.

“What man? Can’t you drive properly on the road, looking straight ahead?”

Stung by his audacity, I lost my cool. “Your Highness, are you color blind or completely blind?”

“What do you mean by asking me this?”

“Well, what else can I ask when you push on through a red traffic light … … … eh?”

Some onlookers started laughing derisively, which further incensed His Highness.

“The signal was orange, couldn’t you see?” the Peshwa argued.

“When the light turns orange, you are supposed to slow down and stop, not rush forward and push through. When you dashed forward, your signal had already turned red, not orange! Got it?”

Now more onlookers had gathered around us.

“One can push through before the light turns red, so don’t try to teach me traffic rules,” the Peshwa growled.

“Oh, is that so? Well, well, well. Why before the light turns red? You can push through even after the light turns red. But then you have to be the President of India, not a local Peshwa!!! Do you imagine yourself to be the President ... ... eh?”

“Watch your tongue, you! Don’t try to tell me what I can do or should do. I pushed ahead because I was in a hurry. And that too before the light was red.  You are the one who should have stopped.”

“Oh, is that so? Well, when you are in a hurry, you have to flit around in an aeroplane, not on a Scooty Pep! ... … You hear me?”

Onlookers now started laughing at this brisk exchange of taunts.

The Peshwa erupted again, “Who will pay for the damages now?”

“Go … … … ask the person who taught you to drive like a circus acrobat,” I retorted. “Or, better still, let me call the police control room. They will tell you and tweak your ears properly!”

The mischief mongers in the crowd around started laughing wildly, and the Peshwa slapped his forehead in frustration!!!

The crowd of idle onlookers now began to swell, and a few even picked up the Peshwa’a mount and stood it at the side. The Nobleman also hailed a rickshaw. Ignoring the muttering Peshwa, I kicked my Bullet into action and sped towards the station.

By now it was about to be 9:30! The thought that Sharad’s guest must be waiting for me at the station made me speed up more than usual. Nonetheless, it was 9:50 when I reached the station.

The train had arrived at platform No. 6, which I reached after racing up and down four staircases, and was appalled to find the train entirely empty. All the passengers had already left. The train that usually arrived an hour late had today arrived at 8:45 or full forty-five minutes ahead of its scheduled time! O my God! The train was here 15 minutes before I had reached the crossing at Nal Stop!

Long live the Indian Railway!

The porters were busy unloading the mail and the parcels, and the train was about to be moved to the shunting yard. Well, now Vrinda was sure to give me a piece of her mind. That I could perhaps deal with, but castigation by Mrs Indiraji at home was unthinkable.

Heaping abuses on the Peshwa in my mind, I slapped my forehead in despair, and entered the Udupi restaurant opposite the station to bolster my flagging spirits.

From the phone on the counter, I dialed Sharad’s home. Vrinda took the call.

“I am Nana speaking, Vrinda.”

“Go ahead. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Just a little accident on my way to station. By the time I reached, probably your guest had left after waiting for a while. Has he reached home?”

“Not so far.  But what accident are you talking about?”

“A circus acrobat rammed into me!”

“What? Are you all right? How much are you hurt?”

“I am all right, so don’t worry. Just a few scratches on my Bullet.”

“Tell me the truth Nana... ...Where are you calling from just now? What exactly is the situation?”

“Don’t worry, Vrinda, just …”

For a while there was no voice from the other end, and then Gaurang –  Sharad’s son –  picked up the line.

“What happened, Uncle? Where are you calling from?”

“Hand over the receiver to your mother, Gaurang... ... ... please!”

“She is in tears. Won’t you tell me what has happened?”

“Look, Gaura, nothing serious has happened. Tell your mother not to worry. My bike is scratched a bit, but I am perfectly all right, and I am speaking from the station only. So  pass over the receiver to your mother, will you?”

“Come home immediately,” I heard Vrinda pleading in a tremulous voice.

“Vrinda,  nothing is wrong with me. Stop worrying, and just tell me whether your guest has reached home.”

“Yes, he has just walked in. Says the train arrived early, and he met a friend there at the station,  so instead of waiting there, he came home with the friend on his Scooty. He too seems to have some scratches on the arm. God know if he too had an accident. Anyway, you return home, immediately, understood?”

“Did anything else happen to your guest?”

“Tell you later, but return immediately.”

“All right, I am going home. Will drop in later in the afternoon.”

“When I said ‘return home’, I meant here, not to your home. I am waiting. Or should I ask Gaura to fetch you?”

“OK, as you wish. I am coming there pronto. Settled?”

“No, not settled. You are not to call Sumi till you reach here. I don’t want her to worry herself silly.”

“Vrinda, do you think I am yearning to be hanged?”

“Be quiet now. And be here before the decree is out. Understood?”

“Yes, madam, coming” I muttered, slapped my forehead in puzzlement, and kicked my Bullet.

But the train of accidents was not to stop there. In the heat of the moment, I threw the first gear without pressing the clutch!

By now it was 10:15 and the office-time rush had started. Many more acrobats were now cruising along the road, making navigation a trial for everyone, and Vrinda was waiting for me with bated breath. Still, I pressed on and managed to reach Sharad’s home by 11:30, only to find Vrinda pacing to and fro outside the gate.

Satisfied that I was all in one piece, she dabbed her eyes dry and heaved a big sigh of relief.

“Today seems to be an accursed day somehow.” she said. “Even Vivek had an accident on the way. His train arrived earlier than scheduled, and he met a friend on the platform who had gone there to see off someone. So he decided to take a ride with him to here on the pillion seat. They too had an accident. Dashed against a bike. The Scooty is a pulp now... ...but they somehow escaped with minor injuries. Just before you they reached in a rickshaw. I was opening the door for them when you called. I was really in a swoon.”

“Tell me first, is your guest, Vivek, all right? And how is his friend?”

“By God’s grace, both are safe and sound. Where do you find such friends nowadays? Even after his Scooty was smashed to smithereens, he came in a rickshaw all the way here to reach Vevek. And, you know, because my head went giddy when you called, he is also waiting for you. Said he would make a move after you arrive. So I have urged him to stay for lunch with all of us. Come... ... ... let’s go upstairs.”

On the way up, I narrated the whole episode in brief to Vrinda. And step by step, as she heard my story, an otherwise calm and collected Vrinda lost her cool and, in the manner of Mrs Indiraji, showered select epithets on the now “absent” wrongdoers, “Undisciplined rogues! Think they are lords of all they see. Won’t come around unless put behind bars and softened with sticks.”

“What’s the matter, Vrinda?” someone asked from inside.

“Nothing, Vivek. Something similar to what befell you today happened to our friend Nana. Bur forget it all now. Take off your shoes, wash your hands and face, and come to the table. Everyone is waiting for you.” And, with this, Vrinda disappeared into the kitchen.

I removed my shoes, placed them on the shoe-rack and, sliding the curtain aside, stepped into the living room. And there I froze into an icy sculpture. On the couch opposite were sitting, chatting animatedly, both the Peshwa and his Nobleman!!!! In the morning I had seen one aspect of them; and now the other aspect had driven me speechless.

Seeing me, their jaws dropped, eyes popped, and both jumped up and abruptly stopped chatting. Then the Peshwa slapped his forehead in complete consternation.!!!

Vrinda, who had presently entered to introduce us to each other, once again slumped into the couch as if her giddiness had returned.

And the next moment, everyone slapped their foreheads and burst into laughter!!!!

DR. ARUNSHANKAR.

MAY 17 th 2014.

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[1] A robust motorbike made by Royal Enfield [ INDIA ] Ltd.

[2] Title of the Prime Minister of Maratha Kingdom who ruled in the name of the King from Pune. The term is used in present-day Pune, as a sarcastic epithet for a  person who behaves high-handedly.

[3] A rather delicate & fragile budget scooter.