|| The Way Up ||

|| The Way Up ||

Dr. Arunshankar’s English version of my 6^th Marathi short story

॥ उद्वाहन ॥

“O Uncle! Move ahead a bit … please … and let me pass.”

The driver of the rickshaw idling in front of me at the signal-crossing craned his neck out and hollered at the scooter rider blocking his way.

“Where the hell do you want to go? Can’t you see the signal is red?” the scooter rider yelled back.

“Wait if you like … as long as you like … who am I to say don’t?” spat the rickshaw driver. Making sure that no traffic constable was manning the crossing, he maneuvered his rickshaw deftly and shot ahead, damning the red signal!!!

It was just one more incident of traffic violations taking place day in and day out on the streets of Pune … the city of self-styled intellectuals!!

Riding our scooter, my wife and I had been waiting at the signal-crossing near Poona Hospital, on Shastri Road, around 7:30 pm, quite fed up of the unruly traffic.

After months, we were on our way to my childhood pal Makarand for a chat session at his residence.

“Don’t have any pending issues nagging you when you come,” he had warned. “We are getting together after ages … so have peace of mind for leisurely talk … and you have to have your evening grub here only,” his wife Madhura had added.

We were to meet at his flat in Somadutt Apartments in Sadashiv Peth at 7 pm … and here we were … caught in a knot of reckless, unruly traffic … half way from his home …  at 7:30 pm!!!

“God only knows when we will ever reach Makarand’s place in this terrible traffic … … maybe at 7 am … … if we are lucky,” hissed my wife Sumita through her clenched teeth, from the pillion seat.

She is a Puneite … so I didn’t miss the chance to tease her, and said, “What to do? Here everyone is a born Peshwa!![i] So who should make way for whom … ?”

“Enough of your understanding nature!! Come on … go ahead now … the signal has turned green … don’t waste time glaring at the Peshwas … like a bewildered blockhead … ” she taunted, not missing her turn to get even.

Battling the onslaught of vehicles from all sides, I pressed ahead … and somehow reached  Somadutt Apartments about 8 pm.

Finding our way through the dark and narrow lane was another trial. The six-storey Somadutt Apartments had risen over the plot once occupied by an old mansion, and even today its entrance was almost hidden by a cluster of shops selling household goods.

A couple of bicycles were parked haphazardly across the entrance, and beyond them a group of teenagers was enjoying a gossip session, leaning over their scooties and bicycles.

“Parking in front of entrance prohibited. If parked, tyres will be deflated. – by order”

The board hanging beside the entrance was a no-nonsense notice … typical of the payable-to-bearer-type locality. I added my scooter to the zigzag line already there, and we entered.

The entrance passage was pitch dark. Makarand’s flat being on the sixth floor, we advanced in search of the lift. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we spotted the contraption.

In front of its collapsible door, a zero watts electric bulb was enhancing the darkness. It might have been there just to save the visitors from banging their heads into the wall, I thought wryly. By its side, a piece of cardboard was dangling from a tack.  The writing on it was barely visible in the dim light, and so almost impossible to read.

The lift car was probably at one of the floors above. Being in a hurry, I placed the tip of my finger on what seemed like a button, and pressed it home …

And jumped … as if I had received a 440 volts electric shock!!! My finger had plunged into the wall … all the way to my knuckle … because where I had expected a button to be, there was nothing but a gaping hole!!!

Fuming with rage, I pulled my finger out, tracked back to the entrance, and asked one of the gossiping boys, “Tell me, son, where is the button for calling the lift?”

Eying me with a stony face and sarcastic gaze, he muttered, “Can’t you read the board hanging next to the lift door ??… @*!!!!”

Cursing him, I went back to the lift … As such, I was late … on top of it, this brat was asking me to read a notice that was hard to see.

As a last resort, I turned on the tiny flashlight on my key ring and tried to decipher the notice.

Like a decree from the Peshwa, it read:

“I represent the unending litigation that has been going on between Mr Barve – resident of the first floor – and rest of the residents of Somadutt Apartments … !

“So far, countless people have received mental shocks by fingering me … !!

“I expect you not to join their clan, but rather to take the stairs humbly, to the first floor… !!!

“If you take the trouble of clambering up to the first floor, you will find the lift there, in working condition, welcoming you … !!!!

“®®® Way up.

“¬¬¬ Way of retreat… !!!!!”

We slapped our foreheads in utter hopelessness and exasperation, and started clambering the stairs on our way up … !*?

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Dr. ARUNSHANKAR.

Juner 8^TH 2014.

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[i] 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.