It was a sunday morning in the Bhosala Military School, Nashik. It was already 6:30, and I was up and about, and on my feet. It was dark, and cold, in the dormitory. I looked around. Everyone else was doubled up in their respective beds, and some of them were mumbling in their sleeps. Sachin, the bulk, was sprawled, legs spread wide, and an arm dangling out of the mosquito net, practicing the alternative weight-loss therapy. There was a constant buzz of mosquitos. Shiva, the sharp shooter was curled up in a tight ball, Ajay was in the namazi position, bum high up in the air and whispering sweet nothings to the pillow. This was the only way he could sleep. Vijay, and Subroto were snoring loudly, in tandem, in sync with the mosquito buzz. I sighed, and switched on the lights.

"All right ya sleeping beauties!! Time to praise the lord! Its 6:30 AM!!"
"snore...khhhhrrrrrrm....Huh?
"4:30! Out of your beds in 5 minutes!! Or you want a taste of my Good Morning Boot!!?!"
"Sargent...its a sunday...Zzzzzz....snore...huh?"
"5 minutes before the other camps start attacking the toilets. Get up, or be left out"
"mumblemumblemumblemumble...zzzzzzzz...snore...huh?"
"Roll call in 10 minutes. Over and out!"

I came out with the lights on, and repeated the same routine in the remaining three rooms. Each time I was met with the same reaction. They all wanted to die in peace. I sighed again. Life as a platoon sargent was not easy. But it was a sunday, and a free day. They could do anything they wanted today. All day. Except the roll call. Whistling, I shut myself in the boltless bliss of the loo.

We were all gathered in the parade ground. Everyone was uniform-less. All the bombay boys wore their Metallica/Iron maiden T-shirts, and baseball caps; complete with the standard walkman. For that matter, most of them were from Mumbai, and took the only day out in the week very seriously. I was the only guy, in the entire 400-strong camp, from Jaipur, and somewhat of a relic.

Major Karad was in his full military garb, even on a sunday. "All right boys," said he, to the sea of crew-cuts, "Its your day-out. Be good, and make merry. And be the gentlemen you are supposed to be. If I hear any of you misbehaved, you have had it. Thats all, and have a nice day." And with that the gathering was dismissed. The bald sea moved, and commingled.

"All right Sarge, what are the orders for today?""Nothing. The usual sunday routine. Go about, watch a movie, a play, but lets all meet up at Panchwati at 5. "Roger, sir".

It was 5:10, and they were still falling in. About 35 of them. It was a formidable sight. A crowd of bald, lean, and rough looking gentlemen, mostly clad in jeans, and headgear. And barely making any noise. There were no onlookers; it was a common sight on sundays, in the Nashik streets. The guys were impatient and hungry.

"Ok, Bhailog. I think you have all walked a lot, and most of you must be tired and hungry." Fourty hands shot up. I continued " And I also assume that you do NOT want to have the mess dinner tonight, right? "NYET"!! "Allright, here is the deal. Ketki Bapat got married to Suhash Gokhle, and they are throwing a reception today. And I have invited us all. How'z that? We all go in groups of two or three, and mingle. And eat to our heart's content. Remember, there is no rationing here.""Who, is Ketki Bapat?""How the hell am I supposed to know? Its free food"." OH!"

All of us, went inside, in small groups. It was a huge gathering, and no one raised an eyebrow. Soon, we were scattered in every nook, and hogging. I, Shiva, and Sachin parked ourselves near the ice-cream stall, and loaded our plates with the standard strawberry and vanilla, and were showering blessings on Ketki and Subhash, a little louder than necessary. At that very moment, I sensed a pair of mean, grey green eyes trained on me. I turned around to stare in them. He was five feet four, old, dark, clean-shaven and unfriendly. he was wearing a silk kurti, dhoti and a black gandhi-topi. He was holding a small plate of vanilla ice-cream, which was fast melting. Apparently he had been watching us for a long time.

Me: (reluctantly) "Namaskar.
Topi: (Staring hard, uncompromising) "Namaskar". I haven't seen you, ever."
Me: "Oh? We are Subhash's friends. Just flew down from Delhi. I am Shubir, he is Sachin, and that one is Shiva. (momentry silence, and resuming eating)
Topi: (getting suspicious): Really? I don't know Subhash had any friends in Delhi."
Me: (knowing laughter) Oh! But we just moved to Delhi three months ago. Who are you? I haven't seen you before either.
Topi: (sternly): I am his kaka (paternal uncle). Which batch were you in?
Me: (flabbergasted) :"Uh. Actually Subhash was an year senior to us. We just passed out from NDA last year".
Topi: (wry smile): "NDA? But he passed out from Maratha Vidya Prasarak Samaj's Engineering college, four years ago."

Me: (inching close, voice down almost to a whisper) " Kaka, chalis hain. Chupchap Ice-cream khao. You live and learn. At any rate, you live." (resume slurping)

Footnote: A very disheartened and deflated Topi stood with us three, till we were finished with our ice-creams. All of us ate to our heart's content, and no fingers were raised. We were all very happy, and I got a lot of back slapping, and praise for my brave one-liner. When we reached the school gates, Major Karad was waiting for us. What he did to us that evening, is another, disturbing story.

I stumbled inside. It was dark as a nightmare. It took a while, to get accoustmeed to the darkness. The house was old, and like a maze. On my left, was a small door, which presumably was the toilet. It looked unused. I kept moving. I came across a half-shut door. I pushed it open. The only source of light was a small window, right in the left hand corner. Sunlight trickled in, and not so kindly too. I took a look around: the room was littered with books. They were lying on the floor, in small heaps. Probably read and re-read, and thrown carelessly. There was a dusty table, and a wobbly chair, an "expired" halo all around them. Apparently the Doktor was man of the sun, and he took it very seriously. I closed the door, and moved on.

I found the kitchen. It was bare, and small. It had a small ceramic sink in the middle, a pressure cooker, and a few steel glasses, thrown carelessly around. It smelt like a mix of Maggi and Khichdi. A battalion of red ants had found their way to an open milkmaid can,and were conspiring to carry it away. Two huge cobwebs hung from the ceiling, like a silk saree left for drying, and a big fat spider waited patiently for his grub. I saw the big Homelight matchbox on the lone shelf. I grabbed it, and hurried out.

The Doktor was sitting in a huddled heap near the angeethee, and had almost dozed off, when I touched him on his shoulder.

"Oh? you are back? That took quite some time, didn't it now? Lordy save me from your followers. Useless!"
"er...it was dark in there, and I was...trying to find my ...."
"Useless! Don't just stand there! Light this thing up, or go home!!!"

With fumbling hands, I slid open the matchbox. A scaly head came out, and two tiny eyes stared coolly at me. It was pale brown, and had scales over it. The eyes had a scrutinizing expression in them, as if sizing me up. The mouth was shut tight, and was bulging, giving the impression that it had gutkha in it. It took out its tiny paw out, and placed it on my now quivering thumb, as if in greeting. In reply to the meek greeting, I let out a blood curdling scream, and the box flew out my hands, over the Doktor's shoulder. In the same motion, I took my T-shirt out, and did a small dance around my shadow, still screaming hard.

"IDIOT!!! NINCOMPOOP!!! USELESS!!!! IMBECILE!!!! CRETIN!! ARGGGGHHGH!! YOU FOOL!!! Do you know what have you done?!??!", the Doktor had gone red in the face, and was screaming on top of his voice. He had raised both his arms, and his whole body shook violently. His long overcoat had come open, and I realized to my horror that he wasen't wearing anything underneath.

"Er...sorry, but there was a lizard in there, and it was showing keen interest in me. If I haden't thrown it away, it'd have jumped .Sorry it landed on you. " I was looking at the ground, trying not to look at the tower of rage.

"BABOON!!! That was bandya!! He has been with me for the last three years!! And now you fling it over my head!! PACHYDERM!! You have no grace!! Don't just stand there!!!! Find him!!!

With that, the Doktor went down on all fours, whispering "bandya, bandya", presenting me with the moon, partially covered with the overcoat. I obeyed, and did the same. Soon, we were crawling on the earth, softly calling out for bandya. We found him, half-an-hour later, dozing, on the doorstep, and he offered no resistance when the doktor gently put him back in his gilded cage.

"Now get out of here, you Clumsy donkey, before I unleash my fury on you!!! Get out before I push a loudspraker in your ear, and holler into it in a demented manner!!!, and with that, the Doktor went inside, and slammed the door on my face.

Footnote: Me and the Doktor became the best of pals, in the later days, and shared many cups of tea together. Always prepared on the angeethee, and always with three teaspoons of sugar. Bandya was safely kept indoors, and was never mentioned. Maybe the Doktor forgot all about him. I have many, many fond memories of him, and maybe I will write some of them, some day. The Doktor passed away just a few days before his 99th birthday.

I had known him since I was seven. He was a tall, lanky, aristocratic kind of guy, one would associate with academics. And academician he was. He had been the Chancellor of the Holkar university for thirty years. He lived in the house right across my grandfather's house. I never thought about him much, then. He was just another of the weirdos usually hanging around, in our peaceful maharashtian colony, in Indore. It wasen't until ten years later, that I really started taking notice of him.

The house had changed, and deteriorated. The paint had come off at many places, and there was heavy bush all around. The small guvava tree had grown taller. There was a dead snake hanging on his door. "He has gone totally senile", said Sandesh," scoot, as soon as you see him", he warned.

And then he came out. The hair had grown till his shoulders. His beard, unkempt and unruly, hung loosely on his chest. He looked taller than I had last seen him. His features had also accentuated: he looked as sharp as a hawk. He had also reached the grand age of 96. He was wearing a long overcoat, which covered most of his body. He suddenly squinted at me; I looked desperately for friendly fire: there was none. Sandesh had long vanished. He took two steps, and started off, without preamble:

Him: "Oh, you."
Me: " Er..yes. It has been a long time".
Him: What's with the long hair? All men in your family are bald. Go with the tradition, son.
Me: "Yes, sir".
Him: "You are not taking any drugs, are you? Kurt Cobain died of that, you know?".
Me: (startled, mouth agape) "Yes...er..how ...did you..."?!!!
Him: I tried it once, in the early 1950's, but I was never satisfied unless I was really dissatisfied.
Me: "Eh?"
Him: "My dear, wife never approved of that one incident. She nagged me about it, till the day she died".
Me: ...
Him: "You know what? We'll have tea. Come inside."

With that, he turned around, and disappeared in the house, without waiting for an answer. I had no choice, but to follow him reluctantly. I was mortified.

His room was a nightmare. It was strewn with books, newspaper cuttings, and notebooks. A big, tattered poster of Jim Morrison adorned the equally tattered wall. Wet clothes hung from a thin plastic wire from the ceiling, and the room stank. "Hey! Don't just stand there! Help me get this angeethee outside". He was dragging an old stove, down the stairs. I complied. We put it in his courtyard. It was an old 1920's job, and as heavy as a dead boar.

He rubbed his hands in glee. "All set. Now all we have do do, is gather some branches, and dry leaves.".."er..."..."Listen, you want the tea or not?"..."yes..er..""Then we have to get a fire going, son. So, move your ass a bit, and get me some leaves". So, I moved my ass a bit, and got him some leaves. "Sit down here", he patted the earth, "do you smoke?""Er, no". "Darn you. Its such a shame. Now don't just stand there, go find a matchbox!!" and he gave me a shove towards the door.

Footnote: My monitor is acting funny, and I have to tilt it to a 45 degree angle, and I have been typing with my neck tilted to approximately the same angle. Its a pain. Shall write the udder part as soon as I snap my neck back to normal.

So, Cafe Coffee Day it was. Me and M walked in there hand in hand. "Ah! This is so much better than BurPista, won't you say?", she nudged me. "The Darjeeling tea there is when you have to mix together a plastic envelope containing too much sugar, a small ceramic pot of something which is not milk but has curdled anyway, and a thin brown packet seemingly containing the ashes of a cremated mole. This place smells better.""Oh come now", she retorted, " Atleast it is better than that dishwater called the cappuccino : atleast it dosen't have dried smouldered vegetables". "Ho hum". We found an empty table, and sat down.
The place was partly crowded. We ordered our Irish coffees.

There was a big TV screen, in front of us. Part of a video juke box. Enrique-something was mooning. "Isn't he hot?", she whispered. "Huh? He looks like his neck threw up!""Shut-up!!""Now come on", looks aren't everything, in his case - they aren't anything!""One more word from you, and I will hang you, and kiss the mistletoe!! SHUT UP!""MMmPHhhh!!".

Then they came. And they came as a herd. Because of the lack of space, he had to squeeze his enormous bum, between me and the pillar. We held out breaths. The chairs creaked, as he made his way to the other table. "THAT is so big, that I can park my bike in the crack", I whispered. "You'll get us murdered", she whispered back, " Hold your breath, and try not to open your mouth". He was followed by the woman. We huddled closer, holding our breaths. I risked a look back. "THAT is a misplaced mountain range...Aaaa..!!". M had dug her nails in my arm to keep me quite. The other two followed suit. "At this rate, the chair is going to have stretch marks", I said, my face almost pinned down on the table. "Phfut-Fup" M mouthed, equally pinned down. The last of them passed by, like a whisper. I turned back. The guy was like a whisper. "I am sure he uses his tie as a blanket." We straightened up in our chairs, and took the sight in.

He was big. In the ass and face. He definitely looked like one who has a passion for collecting chins. He had three of them. The hair on his head stood like he had combed them with an egg-beater. The eyes were so close set, that you'd have trouble making out which one was which. As if he'd been watching TV in stereo. His chest had slipped a bit, so it was held back by a tight belt around his waist, in a puddle. The woman next to him, was hairy. Almost like a chimp with a sweater on. Naked, her tits would look like coconuts. I bet she beats her chest after she has had sex. Het face was blank, almost helpless : much like a marigold after you sprinkle it with DDT. The other woman was apparently a sibling. She was like a psychiatrist's dream, only he would make her lie with her face down on the couch. Medusa, had competition. She was dressed the same was as the other woman, the only difference being, she wore a bright red scarf around her neck. I suspect that was to hide the chest hair. The last guy, in the troupe was so thin that he gave me a complex. So thin, that if he turned sideways, he'd disappear. He wore the tightest pair of jeans, and a paratrooper's jacket. he and the fat guy made a perfect figure of ten.

The chimp in the sweater got up, and parked herself in front of the video jukebox. Then she started molesting the panel. We waited with bated breath. "Oh no! she is making a playlist!" M whispered. "They look punjabi by nature", I whispered back, "be prepared". The chimp hopped back to the sofa where all of them were sitting, and high-fived the sibling, the other hand on her waist. "Thats, what I call a primitive mating dance", M said. "Yes, but I bet the strap-ons go soft, when they are at it." You are gross".

Daler Mehendi came on screen. With his flashy clothes, and the turban to match. I turned to the simpsons. Their faces were contorted with ecstacy. Damnit, they even know the lyrics, I thought. The chin-collector was doing a mini-bhangra jig, on his seat. It was not a pleasant sight. Eyes closed, gyrating, he looked like a Hippo, getting his first taste of chewing-gum, only, the gum was in the wrong place. "I am sure it is their orgy anthem", I said.

"Do you have a pen and a paper? I want to draw the chin collector. He is very drawable". M handed me the notepad, and a pen. I started drawing. I was adding the detail to the nose hair, when I felt a shadow looming over me. We both gasped. The chin-collector was looming over us. He peered close, his shadow was heavy too.

Chin-collector : "Drawing, are we?"
Me: :Uh...hum..well...
Chin-collector : "A hobby, is it?"
Me: "Uh. sorta. But I also believe that there is a fine line between hobby and mental illness."
Chin-collector : "That looks familiar".
Me: "Sure is. Do you watch Simpsons? That is Homer's cousin, Bummer. He came in the re-run show, in 2001, late evening. Are you a homer fan too?"
Chin-collector : "Ye simpson kya hai?"
Me: "Uh. Its a series of documentaries on the behavioural pattern of displaced orangoutans, in the rain forests of Botswana. Very interesting. You should see it sometime. Full family entertainment.
Chin-collector : (jabbing at the sheet) "Par isne to jacket pehen rakha hai"
Me: "That is the fun part. They actually put the orangutans in an enclosed, man made environment. Thats why the show is called simpsons."
Chin-collector : Heh heh. (waving to the herd) "aree dekho ji dekho"

The three of them made a half circle around us, peering close. M shifted, poked me in the ribs, and held her breath.

Chin-collector : "Bhaisaab is artist. Works for Discovery channel"
Chimp with a sweater : "Haiiiiiiin? Sachhi? How sweet ji. Mere to ghar main do hi channel chalte hain: BBC, aur Discovery. Aap kis time aate ho?"
Me: " Oh. Actually I am a research scholar, working with the channel. Our goal is to make the world a better living place, for Chimpanzees, Baboons, orangutans, and the likes."
Psychiatrist's dream: "Maine bhi dekha tha woh waala program. Aap kahan the usme?"
Me: Oh? U missed me by a whisker. I was behind the old orangutan, in the blue tshirt, and bandar-topi. We have to mingle with them jee. To avoid suspicion".
Chin-collector : " Can you please aa-to-grap this sheet, with the drawing, and give it to me? I collect.
Me: I know. it shows. (more poking in ribs from M)
M: (suddenly) "Oh? Its 7PM!! We'll miss the flight to Cape town." (Grabbing me by the sleeve) Lets go!"
Psychiatrist's dream: "Hehe. Just like the Maruti Advertisement. How sweet."
M: "X'cuse me?"
Me: "Never mind. Ok guys, catch me on Discovery on wednesday, 2 am sharp. Just remember that the program has adult content. Make sure the kids sleep before you collect".
Chin Collector: "Hain? That we will do jee. Nice meeting you jee."

Footnote: M dragged me out, before we could exchange more pleasantries. I could not even tell him my name, and about my next project in Burkina Faso. M has forbidden me to say the word Discovery and monkey in public forever.

"Dr. Jugindra Babbar Dental Health Clinic". Yes. That was the name. And yes, it was "jugindra", not Jogendra, or Joginder, or something of that sort. There was another board, on top of it, which said " Lovely Babbar: the world's first Sikh (sic) Magician". And a picture of Lovely Babbar, looking very intimidating, with flashy headgear, and doing a La' Mandrake,magic wand and all.

"Are you sure this is the place?", my sister whispered to me.
"Absolutely! This is the place. See that flat blob of a man sitting there? The description matches to the last detail. Its him"
"Hmm. He looks like Jamaal the Butcher to me. Look at those big fat hands!!!"
"Shh. He is a supposed family friend. Bad karma to talk like that. Save your compliments for later"
"Humphhff"

We walked inside. The door was wide. It was pro'lly broadened for the size of Mr. Babbar. Me and my sister walked in together, easily. I looked around. Gruesome pictures of agape mouths, showing different painful stages of piorrea adorned one wall. The other wall had a very colorful poster, a pictorial walkthru of how you should brush your teeth, sponsered by Colgate. There was something scribbled under the poster. I leaned forward to read it. "Main bhi aise hi karta hoon", and a smiley, and a wink drawn with it. Probably by Mr. Babbar himself, I thought to myself.

The Babbar was sprawled on a chair, half slumped, half drowsy; the chair had sagged years ago, it seemed, and was holding on, on purely compassionate grounds. He had a fleshy face. I counted 3 double chins, and a fourth one growing. He really had fat arms, the kinds which bulge. The mouth had dropped, almost to a frown. The eyebags were large, and I almost mistook them for his cheeks. The rest of him was hidden under the desk, mercifully. He looked at me, with his half-closed eyes, and let out a whisper of a smile. To me, it clearly meant " No pain, no gain". I shuddered inwardly.

"Aao Bachha! Its been years! And beta! You have grown!! I saw you when you had those hippie-like hair, and that weird moustache. And beti!! I hear you have moved out, and joined the ranks of them engineers? eh? Hmm...time flies..." He said it all, without moving a muscle on his face. I suspect that if a fly had sat on his face then, he'd have willed/wished to make it go away, without moving his hands. Or maybe the fly was his friend.

"So, what brings you here? A tooth Ache? A cavity? Germs? Babbar can handle it all", he willed his hand, it moved in a wave.
"Yeah, Babbar is a magician, right?", sister chipped in, looking innocent
"That babbar is my brother. This Babbar is a dentist, physician, Aurvedologist, a Palmist, and a Judo instructor", he snapped. "You got a bad tooth you want to get rid of?"
"Uh no", I interjected," its me. And my cavities. Can you take a look?"
"Yes. Come here, and sit next to me. Exploration time!!"

My sister got up. " I just remembered, I have to feed the goldfish. I'll see ya around, OK? bye!", and she was out in a second.

"Do you keep goldfish in your house?" Babbar demanded
"No. That is a term used by people when they desperately need to excuse themselves, when goldfish isn't the most important thing"
"Eh?"
"Its Ok. She'll be fine. Now can you look at these?", I opened my mouth wide.
"No, that'll come later. Show me your hands."
"Huh? Hand-s? They are clean, and I wash them religiously"
"Let me see", he said patiently.

I held out my wrists. He was holding them, deep in concentration. Now holding hands is one thing, and holding hands with a 60 year old, obese, fleshy faced dentist, in an enclosed room with posters of mangled, ugly; decaying teeth is another. Certainly not my idea of cosy. He was rubbing his thumbs on my veins. I pulled back my hands, on the verge of being molested.

"Well? I looked at him, crossing my arms fiercely
Babbar :"You have thin, shapely wrists."
Me: "Thank you. I have had them since I was a baby. What has that to do with my cavities??"
Babbar :"There are a lot of veins on your wrists. That is worrying"
Me: "Er.."
Babbar :"How old are you?"
Me: "Almost 27, and aging gracefully, I hope.
Babbar : "Have you been doing any Hanky-panky stuff?" He looked hard into my eyes, causing me to look at his eyebag, fixedly.
Me: "Hanky panky?" huh? whatever is that??"
Babbar : "Have you been doing the Galat-Kaam?
Me: "WHAT galat-kaam?!?! I am sorry, but I don't quite follow you." I looked at the eyebag, totally exasperated.
Babbar : "You see, young people your age indulge in a lot of galat-kaam, hanky panky stuff. They regret it afterwards. Its bad, you know. They ruin their lives, and live unhappily ever-after."
Me: "look, I dunno whatyoutalkingabout! Kindly eloberate a little?"
Babbar : Are you into hastmathun ?
Me : (Mouth agape, and rolling of eyes expression) "WHAT?!?!?!?"
Babbar : Yes, Hastmathun, Masturbation, Hand-practice...you know what I mean?
Me: (Mouth still agape, face expression changing to disbelief) "WHAT???"
Babbar : "Calm down. I had to ask you. The veins on your hands are pronounced, a sure sign of excessive hastmathun. And, you can tell me, I am like your father. Don't be shy"
Me: "WHAT??!?!?! My father NEVER asked me WHY I slept on my belly. HE never asked me WHERE all those old pairs of socks were disappearing!!!! I was standing up, deciding between pouncing on the Babbar, and jumping out of the door.

Babbar : (His mentum in his hands, still calm) "Suit yourself. I was being Humane. Its upon us elders to make sure the youth find the right path. I was driving the fact home, that excessive hastmathun causes loss of sperm-count, weakness, weight-losss, and more. Hastmathun, is bad. You can come tomorrow, for the filling. Good-day".

I was about to go out, when the voice called out, "You too? Old socks?!?! Its safe, ya know, and gives a lot of p..............

Footnote: The treatment is still on. We don't talk about hastmathun. Instead, I am learning about the benifits of Surya namaskar, and Yoga.

I watched him till he got lost in the crowd, and turned my back. The street was lined up with peddlers. Electronic goods, shoes, chinese blankets, cheap bras, chinese and russian cigarettes, fountain pens, run-down shacks- selling momos, and chow-mein, boasting of "real" chinese cooks- you name it. In short, it was a mini-carnival.

"sex-chewing-gum", he whispered as I passed by him. "Huh? excuse me?", I looked at him, bewildered. "Sex-chewing-gum", he repeated, "import phrom swedhen, ek bar khayega, bahut majaa dega". I stopped to look. He was a short, dark, pot-bellied man, with thick curly hair, laced with oil, and an ugly looking mole right above his upper lip. He sat with a folded newspaper, occasionally swatting at the flies which were all over the place. He was perched on a small wooden stool, which could barely hold him. The goods, were kept on a table, in front of him. I bent down for a closer look. Rows and rows of colorful packets, neatly wrapped, with glowing seals which said "Made in Sweden", were put on display. The packets were adorned with pictures of couples locked in orgasmic embraces. I even recognized apna Mithun-da and Mandakini on one cover.

"Lega saa'b? Bheyry chip. pachhis taka. fraesh Maal." he was leaning closer now, showing me a gold capped tooth." I bheel gib massage crim free with 2 packet", he whispered. "Hmm. But what does the sex-chewing gum do??" I asked him, in utmost sincerity.

Without missing a beat, he started off,"Saab, ektho sex-chewing gum. Ek goli khayega, to bahut thaarak chadhega. Mane, aaap maast ho jayega. Jaaab aap aakela bhaithega, ek goli khaiye, pura baaadan main aag laag jayega". he made an obscene gesture, joining his forefinger and thumb in an O, and moving the middle finger thru it. "Aab Saamjha?

"Ok. I will take two of them," I said," Did you say the massage cream was for free?""Haan saab, ektho bhishun crim. Top". I hesitantly took the small packet, and pushed it inside my pocket; a small group of shopkeepers were watching me, and whispering among themselves, grinning, and patting each other on the back. I moved away from the cluster.

Just five minutes of walking, and I felt a hand on my shoulder. He was back, grinning wide, arms laden with plastic bags. "Babu, nice place this... hmm? Deed you phind something of intrest?" He revealed a brown bag, "I ghot phor of theem. All good quality. Phress Maal. Bhwe shall hab phun tonight. Bhwat about you?""Oh..I got this for you." I fished out the small packet from my pocket. "I thought you'd appreciate. Some rare stuff this, got it after a lot of searching and bargaining."

He inspected the two small packets, and his eyes widened. "I hab herd this things you don't get anybhere. Not ebhen in New Delhi." He could barely contain his excitement. Suddenly, he wanted to get out of there. "Chaalo babu. lets us get back. I hab to chek bhether thees casettes are OK". He was sniffing at the gum packet, and reading the name again and again. "I hab to test this also." he said with a grin. "Wait sir", I said," why don't we take a small tour of this place? Ya know, you can show me the places of historical interest, and ofcourse, you can continue with your story, maybe?"

So me, and a very irresolute Mritunjoy ShenGupta were on a rickshaw again. The story, and Mr. Shengupta had lost the steam, and the college and the marriage part were wrapped up in ten minutes flat. Suddenly, he had nothing to say. "Pleez", he begged, " let's buy some rum, and get back to the guaest house. I bheel test the cassettes, biphore the shops close."

"I bheel fresen up, and ask for sodah'. And then, ywe can sit and say cheers", he said; and disappeared in his room. I nodded, and plonked myself on my bed, resuming my reading.

A soft knock, and he entered, ashen faced. "The BCP bhon't start. And these is no ice". he shifted, "But whe can still drink, and I had packed som phantasy magazines, lucky me, so bhe steel can hab fun." he gave a half-grin. "No thanks, sir", I said, " I'll abstain. I have an early morning train to catch, and pack as well. You carry on with your follies.""I am really bheyry sorry", he said; and walked away. I suppressed the smile, and closed the door.

Loud banging on the door. I got up drowsiliy, and looked at the time. It was 2 AM in the morning. "TUI GORU!!! TOR GESAI BOTO NAI!!! THOR BOGA TERRA!!! PEDO GANGARAM!!!". Mritunjoy ShenGupta was shouting on top of his voice, looking a few shades paler, and holding his lungi in one hand. He was sweating profousely, and was bare chested. "What happened, sir???

KHANKIR NATI!!!! ShenGupta was shaking, "I take that chwingum, two of those horrible things!!! And that massage crim you gibe!!! I hab bin frequenting the toilet, and I can't pee!! Loose Motions!! TUI SHWOR!!!! My deek is swollhen!!!" he grimaced. I shall rephort thees to your father!!! What a Bhonderful Day!!! And he turned and ran away before I could say another word.

Footnote: I left earlier in the morning, because that was the safest thing to do. Sources told me later, that Mr. Shengupta was inconsolable, and they had to call for the doctor. I threw my packet of Sex-chewing-gum in the Mahananda river, on my way back.

We had met at the Siliguri Guest House, Siliguri. I was returning from my month-long stay at my parents in Chukha. He was going to Delhi, for official purposes. I was sitting in the lawn, reading "The Case of the Restless Redhead", by Erle Stanley Gardner. He had come in from behind, in a printed shirt, pyjamas, and hawai chappals, tapped me on my shoulder, and started off; sombre faced, a cigarette in his right hand, and the other hand in his pocket, softly scratching himself.

" Hello. I am Mritunjoy ShenGupta. I bhork for the survey of India. I am Asstt. Engineer with the Government Of Bhutan, CHPC. I lib in Tsimalakha. I am married, and hab two kids : Deepu and Appu. Deepu is six, and Appu is two. Bheyri notti. They go to the Tsimalakha Primary school. I came to Bhutan in early 1990. Joined in as a Junior Engineer. Bashically, I am from Baharampur. We hab land there. My father is a pharmer: he is uneducated. But then, most of his neighbours are illiterate too. A very bhirtuous man he is, I tell you." He stopped to take a puff off his cigarette. "Shigarette?"

Checking himself, he continued with his monologue, "I come from a bhery poor phamily sir. But my shorry appearence should not be mishtaken weth ignorance. I am B.Tech, first class, with honors. My father is an extrimly conschientious man. He made sure I pheenes my studies before I got married to my wife. And he had good rison too. He himshelf got married at the age of sheventin. My mother was only elebhen. I was born when she was tuwhelve. A very wik child..... are you listening?" he asked sternly.

I felt like I was bitch-slapped across the face. I was half-dazing, and was half staring at the Kali Mishti Bhandar across the road. The jalebis were tempting. "Uh. Yes. But that accounts for paedophilia, dosen't it? Its a flagitious crime, ya know? "Flagitious mane? "Umm.. Heinous, atrocious.....dirty...""Excuse Me!!?!?!", his cigarette dropped from his mouth, his hands went to his hips, and he went red in face, "What do you min!?!"..."Uh...I hastily added," It surely isn't his fault, those were the times.""Those were the times", he sighed, and picked up his cigarette.

He was staying in the adjacent room. "Uttho baboo, lets go to the madket". I opened the door, drowsy eyed," Lets go to china madket. I hab to buy shom stuff," he urged. "No, you carry on, I am painting my masterpiece sommeil: une étude. "You paint it letter, please, we'll shop a little, and have jhalmuri", he begged. "And plus, I didn't tell you the whole thing in the morning."

So, we were sitting on the cycle rickshaw, side by side; while he continued his epic," Sho, I wash a wik child. There was no hope of my sorbhival. My father, a veri religious man, did not eat for 6 days. Fought with god. Father won. I was nhormaal in that one wik.", "Oh really?", I interrupted suspiciously, one eyebrow raised. "Yes. So, I was named Mritunjoy. My childhood was a difficuhlt one. I went to the Kankinara Sundia Higher Secondary School. heard of it?", he asked me. I shook my head." No". "But I was a bright child, he went on," Soon, I was made monitor of my class..."

By the time he reached the moving part, where he helps the blind dog cross the road, we were there. I was close to tears, as we paid the rickshaw. "So, you shee my friend, life has bin like a rainbow", he put an arm around my shoulder, as we made our way inside the crowded market. His face brightned as he saw the hawkers. "All shelling china goods. All smuggling maal. Dirt cheap. All illegal. I know some of them,". "Hmm, but what are you here for?" I asked innocently. "Shoes. Chinese shoes. And pencil torch. And walkman. And.....Blue picture". "Blue picture?? You mean pornography??""Shhh.Yes. Blue picture. Sixty rupees per cassette. Very good quality. I have VCP in room, he winked," we watch in the night, I get jhalmuri and rum". "We'll see. For now, you go get your blue pictures, I go look around this place. OK?" I said, stone faced. "Theek Acchhe, he replied, patted me on the shoulder, and disappeared in the crowd.

"YeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaiiiI!!!" He was screaming all over the class. It was a free period. His name was Sumit, and he was displaying his Karate prowess. He was standing, with his legs apart, hands spread out, eyes fixed at blackboard, invoking the gods. He was breathing slowly. Not that everyone was watching him. We had formed a small group around him, egging him on. Everybody else was doing what fourteen year old students are supposed to do in a free period. The girls, happily chatting away, or taking down some long-forgotten notes, Vivek trying to impress Shobha, the class hottie, Kunal exploring the unknown, deep in his nose, the studious group, or the think tank; or whatever else they are known as; shaking their heads,and pointing at our unruly group every now and then. Siddarth, and Girish were flipping through their newly acquired issue of some dog-eared Debonair, expertly hidden between their thighs, and winking at our group in general. Me, Ajay, and Sriram were the part of the small group that surrounded Sumit.

"This, is the nose-breaker", he was saying, " Hit the chin with your knuckles, but just lightly, take it up, scraping the teeth, and install it on the nose. Your opponent is left with a bleeding face." he beamed. "Then hit is head, with all your might, with your elbow, and the enemy is down, and out." He grinned. Sriram was impressed: he being a martial arts junkie."Ok, sounds good. But surely he will try to get up?"" No chance, my dear man", "THIS, will stop him!" Sumit said, and with that; he squatted, and firmly planted his fist, in Srirama's crotch.

"OWWWWWWWW", Ramu let out a blood curdling scream, and crumpled, his hands covering his crotch. There was a deathly silence in the class. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing. Even Siddarth and Girish. "WHAT have you done!!!", Ajay screamed. Ramu was lying on the floor, clutching his groin, writhing, his glasses somewhat dislocated. "He is gonna die!!! No!! He is getting unconscious!!!" The whole class had gathered around Ramu now, some watching in horror, the girls giggling uncomfortably. "Lets do SOMETHING!! Pick him up!!! lets take him to the hospital!!" Ajay was in full charge. We picked him up. Fortunately for us, the Willingdon (RML) hospital, was bang next to our school.

So, me and a now totally sober Sumit holding his legs; and Ajay and Rohit holding his arms, we set out for the hospital. Ramu was delirious, incoherent, moaning every now and then. We met the PT teacher, Mr. Patel, on our way:

"Kya Hua? Ise kahan le ja rahe ho?"
"Nothing sir, football lag gayi. Zara first aid ke liye..."
"Oh. kahan lagi?"
"Er..."
"Oh ok. Tum chalo, I will be with you ppl in 2 minutes"
"yes sir".
We reached there in a record two minutes. We left in our wake, a string of uh-ohing students and teachers. Everyone was sympathetic. conclusion: Genitelia is a very sensive topic.

The doctor in charge, didn't look like a doctor at all. He was a large, menacing looking man, with close-set eyes, and an equally menacing looking companion as his nurse.

"Ise aise kyon utha rakhya hai" . The jat tone was not lost on us.
"Sir, ise chot lag gayi hai. Seedha khada nahi ho sakta".
"Kidar lag gayi? Yo to behos- sa ho rakhya hai"
"Sir woh.. ball lag gai. Bechara gole-keeper hai team ka."
"O-HHHo. Ab samjhya. Ise udhar table pe dhar do"

We put him on the examining table. He must have sensed the phantom menace around him, 'cause I sensed fear in his eyes.

"Haan beta. kya hua tujhe? kahan lagi, chal bata"
"Uh...sar wo.....yahan" he pointed to the crotch, without touching it.
"hmmm. bahut dard ho rahya hai? Tch Tch. Khol kar dekhna padega. Shister, Iski pant utaro."

We had anticipated this, and we exchanged quick glances, trying not to laugh. This was too good. Unfortunately, Ramu saw the quick, evil glances.

"Saar, pant nahi utarni". he said firmly.
"Ree pant to kholni paddeggi. nahi to pata kaise lagega?"
"Saar, main pant nahi utaroonga"
The doctor motioned to us " Aap log bahar jao. Aapko dekh kar sarma lag ri ise". And he winked.

Deflated, we went out of the room, reluctanly. The door was closed on our faces. But we could still hear :

"Chal bhai. Ab sab chale gaye. Ib khol de pant"
"Saar, aap aise hi dekh lo. Main pant nahi utarega"
"Beta, uttar de"
"Nahi saar, sharam aati hai" (sic)

"SHISTER!!!! ISKE HAATH PAKAD LO"

".........................nahi saar... please..... please.....NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

We let out a cheer and a high-five, and moved away from the door.

Ajay: "Lets call his home, and tell his parents to collect him. He can't walk".
Sumit: "Brilliant! lets do it!"
Rohit: "Who?"

Three pairs of eyes were trained on me. I shifted uneasily.

Me: "ME??? NO WAY!!"
Them : "yes you. You know his family better than any of us."
Me: "What the hell am I going to say!?!?"
Them: "How the hell are we supposed to know? This dosen't happen everyday!"

The phone was picked up by Ramu's mom.

Me: "Hello Aunty. I am Shubir"
Her: "Hello beta. Srirama is in the school. Are you ill or something?
Me: "Not me. er... actually I am calling from willingdon hospital".
Her: "Kyon kya hua beta? You Ok??" (real concern)
Me: "I am fine, aunty. Actually..... its about Sriram."
Her : (horrified) "What about him?? What happened to him??"
Me: "Er....we were playing football, and he was.....er...a little hurt."
Her: (wail) " Where?!?!? What happened"
Me: "Er...Um... he didn't see the ball, and fell down"
Her: "yeah, yeah, but WHERE is he hurt?"
Me: (hand on the mouthpiece, and looking at the three)" she is asking WHERE is he hurt??" What do I tell her??"
Them : (sternly) Tell her!!
Me: "Aunty, actually, the ball hit Sriram between his legs"
Her: " What? Where? What are you talking about??"
Me: "Er...he was....er.....(Ajay mouthing TESTIS).....theballhithimonhistestis"
Her: "What? Can you speak loudly??? I can't hear you properly"
Me: " penis. he was hit on his penis"
Her: ".........tennis? what??"
Me: (agitated) "PENIS!! PENIS!!
Her: Oh! Penis or TESTIS??!
Me: (gulp) uh....testis!!
Her: Oh. ok. I was a bit confused between penis or testis. I am on my way. (click)

Footnote: A much embarressed Ramu was taken away by his mother that day. He maintained he was hit by a football. It didn't end there. Ramu, got hit thrice, in a row, within the same week, in the general crotch area. Cricket balls, and crowded buses, and the third time trying to practice tai-kwan-do. He hates the likes of Bruce-Lee, and Jakie Chan.

"Hey!! He is here!!". I was rudely awaken from my post-lunch nap. "Huh? whaa? who?". "The swami!!! The SWAMI!!".""Do you mind? I am delirious. Remind me NEVER to have kathi rolls again, willya?" I said, puting my head back on the table, hoping to re-join my dream. "WAKE UP!!", TC shook me violently," you don't want to miss this!!". I stood up, somehow, still trying to converge on or towards a central point. "Shhhh. Keep a straight face, don't scream; or turn your back, and try to smile, when you see it.""IT"?? wha-whaddaya mean?", I asked, now reluctant to face the other door. "Shut up, and come". TC said.

The door was partially closed. I stopped. TC stepped in front, and regally opened the door, 5 inches closer to my nose, " I proudly present Shree 1008 BrahmaSagar Jee Muniraaj" I peeked in, and froze. The drowsy stupor was replaced by Horror, then disbelief, repugnance, and finally the jaw dropped, resulting in a sharp intake of breath.

Shree 1008 BrahmaSagar Jee Muniraaj was seated on the wooden box, we had so occasionally used as a dining table, barechested, and barelegged. His arms and chest, and tummy, were covered by a thick, fine coat of hair. The same was the case with his ears - the only difference being, was that they were neatly combed, and were jutting out like wings; as if he had just settled down after a long flight. There was no moustache, but the beard was thick, and black. Not a hint of hair on his head. He instantly reminded me of "baldy" from the Phantom comics. His face was screwed up with concentration at the TV screen in front of him, watching himself, addressing a crowd. It was then, that realisation hit me hard. Shree 1008 BrahmaSagar Jee Muniraaj was sitting butt naked.

I closed the door, and turned around. Tc's face looked very much like a person who has held back his laughter for a long time. I was still in a state of shock.

"What in the world is THAT???"
"That, my dear friend, is Shree 1008 BrahmaSagar Jee Muniraaj ". Tc said with a twinkle in his eye.
"WTF is he doing here?????"
"The film. Its on him. Its his 75th birthday. It is supposed to honor him."
"You didn't answer me. WTF is he doing HERE??"
"You didn't hear me. Its his Birthday. The film is being made to honor him. He is here to make sure he is honored properly.
"He had to come here?? With all those (eeeeeeeeeeugh) hair??
"You ain't seen nuttin still. Have you heard him speak/chant yet?"
"Halp!!."

We sneaked inside again. The scene on the TV screen had changed to The swami enjoying himself, despite of himself, under a waterfall. The water fell freely, from fifteen feet, not knowing WHAT it was going to hit, fifteen feet below. The swami was sprawled out on a rock., legs spread wide. It was a revolting site. I stole a glance. Th swami had a bemused look, lost in the past. He shifted on the box, to talk to his cronie :

Muniraj : "Jain jee, this is Rishikesh"
crony : jee maharaj
Muniraj : "It was really cold up there, or so they told me: minus two degrees"
crony : maharaj ki jai. (turning around) maharaaj dosen't feel cold at all. Or hot. (sic) Unke nature main hi hai. jai Maharaj. (touches feet)
Muniraj : "Jeete raho. Imagine: Mr. Tiwari offered me a towel.(Hollar Hollar) (raising of arms, revealing thick armpit nest) Who needs a towel. Water, is nature's gift. It was funny."
crony : (Soft Hollar) Mr. Tiwari is an ordinary man like me, Maharaj. Or maybe he is afraid of cold water."
Muniraj: "Ha Ha". (pats cronie's head)

Tc could not hold it anymore. He tried, though. Not good enough. Muniraj has heard him, and now he has shifted his entire attention to us. I fix my gaze intently at Muniraj's left, dark nipple.

Muniraj :"Yes, children?"
TC: "Uh. (giggle). Nothing.
Me: (talking to the nipple) "uh. Nothing. We just came in".

Muniraj: "Aapko kuch chahiye?"
TC: "No sir, (giggle) we work here."
Me: (talking to the nipple)" Me too".

Muniraj: "Aap hanse kyon?"
TC: "Woh....main...(giggle), nothing sar, just like that."
Me: (still gazing the nipple) "ho hum".

Muniraj : (suddenly cautious) "Aap kahan dekh rahe hain?"
TC : (looks at me, then looks at the brown bud) "HA HA HA HA HA "
Me: (focus shifted on the other nipple) Err.....

Muniraj : (crossing his arms around his chest, covering both the nipples)" Aaaj Kal ke naujawan"
TC: "HAHAHAHAHAHA" (rushing out of the door)
Me: "HAHAHAHAHAHA" (following TC)

Footnote: We later saw Muniraj, when he was leaving : in all his naked glory; posterior and all. I better not describe it, for it was not a pretty site. The muni complained to the editor, who in-turn complained to the boss, and we all had a hearty laugh with the boss and the editor.

Disclaimer
The incident below, is produced as-was. The name of the central character has been changed, for safety purposes. Let's not get gung-ho, sentimental, bathetic, schmaltzy, or maudlin about religion. -shubir

I looked at him in horror. His head was buried deep in the bakhu, and was bobbing up and down. I shrinked in my seat. This is not something you see on a day-to-day basis. I looked at Amit. He was still busy trying to look at the misty mountains, and past the fog. I pushed myself at the end of the seat, trying not to touch Thinley, but it was impossible because of his bulk.

Thinley looked up finally, partially sated, and winked at me. "Bus make me very sick", he explained, and patted his bakhu, wiping his mouth on the sleeves. I gave him a disgusted look. He took out a piece of dried fish, out of the bakhu pocket, and started munching on it. It smelt very much like dried fish. I wished I had a bakhu myself.

The old bhutanese lady behind me was sleeping, and sending doma fumes, in my direction. Her companion, an old man, who probably was her husband, was busy talking to the people behind his seat, in Dzongkha. The guy, next to me, was snoring, his head on the headrest, his head up in the air, mouth open, and a continious trail of saliva wetting his chin, and more. It was almost as if someone had garrotted him. His companion, a little child was concentrating on the nose wax>, which made a puddle on his upper lip.

"loof!!! itfs a Fyak!!" Amit shouted excitedly" Foo big"!!! He had startled Thinley, who was now leaning almost all over Amit, covering him, and the window completely. "Take that thing out of your mouth, willya? Makes me want to push your teeth in!!". "Iffs kinna addfictive", Amit said, pushing Thinley off him.

The bus shuddred suddenly, and came to a halt. The murmur in the bus rose.
"Whaff iff thiff all abouf?"
"Tea, refreshments, and pee"
"How thofful. I don'think I can. Ifs frozen".
"Tell Thinley to give you a warm up".
"Youck"

The onion baskets were the first to get out. Then came the garlic ones. Then the chickens. Then, the heavy luggage. The bus sighed, with each unloading. I realized there were six goats, in all, counting Thinley's. The humans beings were the next. The whole charade took a total of ten minutes. Thinley was tying a rope around his goat's neck. "If no do, goat run. Run fast. No catch. If no catch, Thinley go with rope.", he grinned, his yellowed grin. I shuddered.

We made our way, admist the luggage, and the people, towards the small restaurant. Thinley was right behind us, the goat settled across his shoulders, looking rather bored. "Me, goat toilet", he grinned. "Thiff place stifnks! And whaff are thewze red thfings?". ""Cow meat. pushed off the cliff, and being dried, for added flavor.""And thofse pthorny things?""Porcupines. They are supposed to be a delicacy.""Eughh. Do they fserve tea?". "Yes, but I bet you won't guess whose milk is it they use.""I will have a Pthumbs Up". "Have it all you can. This is the only place you get it". "Fee? they haff bottles full of datshi". "Don't look at it. You have enough to last you a life time." Thinley was making his way towards us, cheerfully.

"Pfffffth". Thinley placed the goat, gently on the bench. It eyed the thumbs Up bottle. Amit clutched it tightly. It kept staring at it. "Goat loose-motion. First time in bus. Theeeees much toilet." Thinley stretched his fat arms wide, and howled with laughter. Amit laughed with him. It was his kind of humor. A crash. Thinley had knocked off the guy carrying the tea glasses. Amit laughed harder.

Thinley turned around. His mouth an "O". His eyebrows disappeared in his forehead when he did that. The man, a wiry bhutanese leaped, and dug his teeth, in Thinley's leg. Yelping, Thinley let out a kick, which sent the man flying across the bench, knocking off two other men, who had just raised their rum cups, in toast. They all remained like that, in a heap, for a second. The goat, very excited now, charged, and planted its horns firmly on one of the unfortunates. From then on, it was a free for all.

Fifteen minutes, and a lot of swearing, and shouting later we all crowded near the bus. It took another fifteen minutes for us, and the luggage to get in. Thinley, and his goat, the champions, were grinning from ear to ear. "Goat make Thinley proud", he beamed.

It was nine pm, when we finally reached the outskirts of chukha. As we made our way towards the door, Thinley gave Amit a half-hug." When you come to Thimpu, visit me. Have Suja (buttery bhutanese tea) together". And he gave me a wink. "Nife man, Tfinley is", Amit said, as we watched the bus disappear, "He smeflt rather funny though, weally weally funny", he smelled his hands, "wonder whaff is thaff fmell".

"Its on your jacket", I exclaimed, and walked off.

Footnote: Amit discarded the jacket as soon as we reached home. And yes, we had Suja with Thinley, a week later, in Thimpu. We maintained a healthy distance. The goat recognized us too, and wagged his tail, when he saw us. Amit bought two hundred rupees worth of Datshi, on our way back to India. He still claims to have about a kilogram of the stuff.