Ludhiana Diaries by Ramit Gulati
“As a neutral here, can I act as an arbitrator and call peace?” It was Raghuvir’s turn to now speak, who so far had been listening to the ripostes between the father and the daughter with much amusement.
“Ah, see you had us forget all about our guest, the new member of our family,” Mr. Rai shook his head in disapproval at his daughter.
“the new member of our family?” Anoothi asked, a bit confused.
“Yes, I did not tell you sweet daughter, but Mr. Dixit has not just come here to teach English literature, he is also here to marry you and become my son in law,” Mr. Rai explained.
“What..!!” Anoothi jumped up in surprise. At the same time, Raghuvir too was completely taken aback by this ludicrous announcement and began to look at the Principal with stupefied eyes.
“What what? What has happened to your sense of humor, daughter? See, I was right when I surmised that dwelling too much in history leaves a person wry and dry,” And he broke out in to a chuckle.
“Telling poor jokes and blaming history,” Anoothi scoffed under her breath, before she let go of the topic altogether.
The three of them by now had reached the canteen, and it was Principal Rai who took upon himself the responsibility to order tea and snacks for the company, momentarily leaving Raghuvir alone with Anoothi.
“Quite an interesting man, your father,” Raghuvir could not help but comment.
“Interesting like an ancient inscription that gets you intrigued, or interesting like the great work of some artist that calls forth emotions, interesting like a just and kind ruler like Razia Sultana, or interesting like the mad king Tughluq that tried to shift the whole populace of Delhi to Daulatabad, the word has many connotations, so which one do you intend to imply?” Anoothi asked in a voice that had a bit of a sharp undertone to it.
“I mean, interesting, as in, the good sort of interesting, the good kind of interesting...” Raghuvir somehow managed to weave together his reply. This woman is more than a little handful, he thought.
“Good kind..alright that is good then,” Anoothi replied with a nod, she seemed for now satisfied with his answer.
“What is good? Is he good? Have you begun to fall for him already?” It was Mr. Rai, who had happened to return from the front counter, and having heard his daughter’s last remark, he once again stepped in with a little joke and chuckle routine.
“Yeah father, in fact I have not just fallen for him, I am already pregnant with his child.” It was Anoothi’s turn to joke now, but before she could support it with a chuckle of her own, she noticed that in her father’s tow stood a young staffer of the canteen, who had apparently come with him carrying a tray of tea and samosas.
And now, she noticed much to her chagrin, an amused grin coming upon his face. Surely he was ready to run off and tell the whole college the breaking news of her tarty adventures.
“No, that was a joke. Damn it, tell him it was a joke guys,” she tried to rescue the situation. But it only made the boy stifle his grin. It was then, that Mr. Rai decided to take control over the situation.
“Madam was telling a joke, do you understand that? Just a joke, you just forget about it now, tell it to anyone else and you will not be working in this college anymore, you understand that son?” The threat was an earnest and serious one, and all the while a pensive Mr. Rai kept looking sharply in to the eyes of the young boy, trying to bore his message through to his very conscience.
The fading of his grin signified that Mr. Rai had succeeded in his endeavor. It was then that he patted the young boy’s back, took the tray of victuals from his hand and dismissed him. The young boy in return was quick to oblige, skittering off from the scene without wasting another moment.
“It is best for one’s health to stay away from pregnancy jokes in the current environment,” Mr. Rai stated, his aged features becoming soft again.
The three of them then made their way to a nearby plastic table, where they continued to engage each other in some informal talk while enjoying some hot tea and tasty samosas.
“Food and family, Sirs and Madams, food and family, the two things that make life complete,” Mr. Rai would comment somewhere in the conversation, taking a sip of tea from his Styrofoam glass before raising it to her daughter.
And so the casual remarks, quick ripostes, general comments continued between the three of them in what remained a convivial environment.
By and by, Raghuvir brought out the picture of his erstwhile lover from his wallet, and showed it to Mr. Rai and Anoothi. But once again, to his mild disappointment (mild because time had blunted many of his emotions towards her, it was only during a lonely night every once in a while that they became intense and gnawed at his heart) he discovered that neither of them knew anything about the girl.
“Just an old friend I have been searching for,” he explained, when Mr. Rai asked him about the picture.
“Ah, I see,” Mr. Rai sighed, for an unknown reason looking somewhat upset after this recent turn in events.
“Love and lice, my dear fellow, love and lice, both can get equally itchy and bothersome with the passage of time, And don’t you tell me it isn’t love, you cannot fool a man of my age, I have already seen it in your eyes,” he declared ruefully. “Anyhow, I must take my leave now, for the day passes quickly and much is there that is to be done. I will have Kamal take care of the rest of your joining formalities, you can begin from tomorrow, have a good day professor.” And he stood up and took his leave, carrying off his half eaten samosa with him.
“Love and lice, my father draws the most preposterous of analogies,” Anoothi would comment, after her father had left the canteen.
“Yes, I would have to agree with you there,” Raghuvir replied.
“Pardon me, but it is only I, who is allowed to criticize my father’s analogies,” Anoothi shot back, her voice once again taking a sharp turn.
What was up this woman? And what was this proclivity of hers to suddenly turn snippy in a conversation?
“I..I of course did not know that…” Raghuvir tried to offer an explanation, but he was saved from the pains of it, for there arrived on the scene at that moment Kamal, who apparently had some sort of an idea to offer which could help Raghuvir in his search for his friend!
“My Aunt Rosa, she owns a famous Gift Gallery in Chaura Bazaar, the busiest market of this city. Chances are that if your friend has been living in Ludhiana, she might be visiting that market every once in a while. So if you want, I can take you to her this evening and you can ask her about your friend,” Kamal proposed, feeling fairly excited to aid the professor in his quixotic cause.
“Why thank you! That is a good idea,” Raghuvir was quick to give his approval.
“Alrighty, so I and Rosa will pick you up this evening then,” Kamal announced with a gleeful smile.
“R..Rosa…? Oh..yes..Rosa…” Raghuvir gulped, the thought of another ride in that Ambassador sending a shiver down his spine.
“Ahem, ahem…” Anoothi intervened. “Since no one is inviting me, I am going to go ahead and invite myself. I need to pick up a book I ordered last week from a shop there in that market.”
“I say more the merrier, me, you, our new professor and Rosa, one for all, all for one..just be ready at 5 then,” announced Kamal.
“No, No, I am afraid we will have to leave d’Artagnan out of this one. I mean, leave Rosa out of this one, we will go in my car instead,” Anoothi declared firmly, leaving no scope for an argument.
“Now why you always have this enmity with my Rosa, I would never understand,” Kamal sighed, throwing his hands up in the air.
“There is no need for you to understand, it will be my car we will go in, that is all,” Anoothi reiterated, paying no heed to his protests.
“Alright, alright, it’s futile arguing with you,” Kamal gave up, in what was rather a very quick surrender.
“I completely agree with you there,” she replied with a foxy smile. “
“No, no need for that, I can take care of these,” she said, when Raghuvir offered to assist her in carrying her books.
Anoothi then bid the two men farewell and walked away clumsily, her books precariously balanced on her forearm.
“Quite a woman,” Raghuvir said, looking gratefully at his savior as she walked away. Heavens knew he would not have been able to survive another ride in that Rosa.
“Yeah she ‘is’ quite a woman, not everyone can be so skilled a spoiler,” Kamal replied, still gutted that Rosa would not be coming with them this evening.
“Anyways professor, let us go and take care of your joining formalities,” He declared and therefore had the professor accompany him to the administrative building, where they spent the next couple of hours in going through numerous documents and filling up a myriad of forms, at the end of which, Raghuvir Dixit became in official capacity, the English literature professor for Ludhiana College of Arts and Commerce.
*******
The afternoon saw Ludhiana being showered with the blessing of a light refreshing drizzle, in which two young brothers spurred on by the pleasant weather, sneaked out of their house and on to the road outside, whereon they began to play a game of catch on the side pavement with their plastic football, making much merry as they tossed the ball back and forth between each other.
Young kids they were, and often their throws would miss their mark, causing the ball to take flight in the direction of the road, but every time it came close to crossing the threshold of the pavement, it would be deflected back to the boys, as if some invisible magical wall was preventing it from going on to the road.
Not that they noticed it though, for they were too immersed in their little game, but there was one person who did and he was Jolly Singh, the same Sardar Ji who this past Spring had come to the rescue of one Vikram Sahni, and who was now hovering in the sky above these two young boys, watching with an amused smile his dear friend Vibhuti Lal fleeting all around in order to stop that ball from going on to the road which was presently carrying a good deal of automobile traffic.
He remained there for a while, in which duration other kids from the neighborhood also came out to join the two young boys in their play, causing the wayward throws of the ball to become more frequent and thereby making the labors of his friend down there more intense.
By and by, Jolly Singh decided to go down and assist his friend.
“Need a hand there, Malko?” he would ask with a little laugh, coming down to now be floating by his friend’s side. “I will take the left side, you take the right one.”
Vibhuti Lal, who was gladly surprised at this unheralded arrival of his friend, gave him a little nod to grant his acquiescence to the plan, and so the two of them, for the next half an hour or so, remained there near that pavement, making sure that none of those young kids drifted in to the dangerous traffic on the road.
They were at last relieved of these babysitting duties when suddenly out of one of the houses, an angry looking woman came out and began to scold all of those kids.
“Oye you brats, you stubborn rats, don’t you have a clue, playing out in the rain will give you all a flu, get back in to your houses at once, at once I said!” so she shouted, driving all of those nestlings back in to their respective abodes.
“So how come you are here all of a sudden?” Vibhuti asked, after having greeted his friend with a warm hug.
“Well, you know about the dispute between Roshni and Jai Prakash?” Jolly questioned, venturing to know how much his friend knew.
“Yes, it has been going on for quite a while now. In fact we have had many meetings about it for the past month or so but the situation remains unresolved. There is some girl who wants to pursue her Masters in a University out of town, but her father is very much reluctant on sending her away. Now Roshni is of the opinion that the girl should dismiss her father’s protestations and follow her dream, but Jai Prakash believes that she should take a middle path by pursuing her subsequent education in some local college. So, there stands the whole issue with both of them at daggers drawn with each other, none wishing to yield an inch of territory,” Vibhuti thus gave a brief summary of the whole situation, before asking Jolly the reason for his own interest in the particular matter.
“Well, a month of bickering, and you didn’t think that the council will get a whiff?” Jolly remarked with a teasing smile, knowing all too well of his friend’s sharp aversion for the presiding body.
“If only I could find one of these spies someday,” groaned a wincing Vibhuti. It was an age old rumor that the council had spies in each city to keep an eye on the activities of its ghosts, but so skilled they were in the art of subterfuge and camouflage, that it was next to near impossible to spot any of them. “Why can’t the council let us take care of our own business for a change?”
“In the world of spirits, no business is private business my friend. Anyhow, the council is not as bad as you think it is. For they have shown the wisdom to appoint yours truly as an arbitrator for the present conflict, and under my facile judgeship, it shall under all circumstances, be brought to a settlement tonight. And anyone who believes that it shan’t be, will be held in contempt of court, oh yes Sir, they will be,” Jolly Singh thus decreed, knocking an imaginary gavel in the air before he broke in to a rambunctious laugh.
“Yeah right, and say if I do, then please do state the punishment I be subjected to milord,” Vibhuti said, advancing the banter.
“If you do Sir, and I believe you are doing it right now, so it is no longer a case of ifs or buts, in fact, I think I should declare your sentence at once for your heinous offence!” And Jolly reached in to the inside pocket of his long black trench coat, unlike the ghosts of our city, the ghosts from the higher realm did have colors as part of their appearance. “So my edict is that to atone for your crimes, you must, and I say must, accompany your friend today in a good ole drinking bout.” And with that, he pulled out a bottle of Madrico from his coat. Madrico, a dark colored liquid which served as the ethereal alcohol, unavailable in the mortal realm but sold freely in the nether world, and it was from his last trip there that Jolly Singh had obtained the bottle he was now presenting to his friend.
“Very well, I accept my punishment, and shall strive to happily repeat this offence in the future so that I could undergo many such similar fates,” Vibhuti submitted with a gracious bow, before both friends began to look for a decent spot where they could revel in some boozy frolic.
*******
The triumvirate of Raghuvir, Kamal and Anoothi drove to Chaura Bazaar in Anoothi’s car that very evening. Chaura Bazaar, the busiest market place in Ludhiana, a kilometer long stretch of road that extends all the way from Clock Tower in the west to Gha-Mandi in the East, a place host to a motley of shops dealing in a variety of goods ranging from clothing to jewelry, from cosmetics to fancy dress props, from spices to books, from musical instruments to decorative embellishments, and along with these, here lies a number of narrow transverse lanes, each a market place in itself specializing in selling one sort of article or another. As one travels from West to East, one first comes across Akal Garh Market on the left which is a big retail market of clothes, then there is the Girja Ghar Square from where branch off the Books Market and the Old Vegetables Market, then there is Sarafa Bazaar (the market of jewelers), Meena Bazaar (in ancient times the residing place of concubines but now a wholesale market of grains and many other victuals, and near to it is the Naoghara Mohalla, where was born the martyr Shaheed Sukhdev Thapar), Basati Bazaar (a famous retail market of women accessories and cosmetics), Gur Mandi (translating to jaggery market but in reality more of a market of electronic goods, it is here that a tragic fire broke out in the early 90’s, when a blast took place in t
After parking their car in the vacant lot opposite the Akal Garh Market, Raghuvir and his new friends walked their way through the traffic of vehicles, hawkers, pedestrians and peddlers, to Aunt Rosa’s gift gallery located near the Girja Ghar square. On entering it, they straight away came across the lady which was Aunt Rosa, a refined old woman with graying hair and a kind wrinkled face, presently standing in one of the aisles of her shop, conversing with prospective customers in the form of two young school boys.
“Come on, you can tell me who you are buying the card for, I can probably suggest you a good one if you tell me a little about the girl you are buying it for, don’t tell me it is for your sister you naughty fella, you have been looking at love cards for the past full hour, no one gives love cards to their sister,” Aunt Rosa was saying to one of the boys, as Raghuvir, Kamal and Anoothi came to stand within hearing range of them.
“It is..for my sister, I swear,” replied the boy, somewhat exasperated as he pinched his Adam’s apple to stress upon the veracity of his words.