something.”
“Cool. We are going to the City Club with Raunak Uncle’s family. Tell me if you kids want to come. I’ll put your name on the list,” he said.
“Sure, I’ll let you know.”
I wasn’t excited about it. Besides, Shashank and Raghu would have plans with their respective girlfriends. Then it suddenly hit me that it was the first time in the history of our friendship that Raghu, Shashank and I were single at the same time. Since school days there was someone or the other with either of us. No girl was ever good enough for Raghu so he was single most of the time. Shashank’s love stories couldn’t last for more than a month or two. But somehow his relationship with Neha lasted for six years while I was with Hrida for seven years. Shashank broke up with her some time after he went to the US. After my break up with Hrida, it was as if the Almighty had blessed the three of us with the ultimate era of bachelorhood. I called Raghu and asked him to meet me at the naka with Shashank.
The naka was originally a municipal corporation transport bus stop on the service lanes of eastern express highway which was encroached and transformed into a cigarette and chai stall. It had a four table seating arrangement where you could munch on bhajiya and other snacks with chai all day long. We had innumerous memories of this place. Raghu had discovered it back in the engineering days and it soon became the place to come to when we bunked college. We’d practically live in this shanty from morning till evening. Life was so much fun back then, I thought.
“Five milds and a lighter,” I told the guy at the stall. I lit a cigarette and took our table.
I noticed the guy beside me. I thought I’d seen him somewhere, his charm was very familiar. I asked who he was.
‘Narayan Kaka’s son.’ The stall owner said and smiled.
I smiled too.
Cut to a few years back:
The age group of friends we made at naka ranged from fifteen to eighty. But out of all of them there was this one person who touched my life. A grim looking eighty-year-old man, white hair, dark-complexioned, wrinkled face, body a bit frail but showed signs of what would once have been a hefty physique. He would come in everyday at the same time and smoke his n avy c ut and leave; he was never out of schedule, for years I saw him like that.
Then one day after his first cigarette instead of leaving he sat on a chair besides me at the stall and ordered a chai. There was something about this guy that made me smile every time I saw him. That day there was something off with him. I wanted to ask, but didn’t. He smiled back when he saw me staring at him.
‘Do you need anything Aajoba?’ I asked as I saw him look for something.
‘Do you have a light?’ He said with his n avy c ut in mouth, I gave him my lighter. ‘Call me Naaru,’ he said as he lit his cigarette and took a long drag.
‘OK, Naaru kaka,’ I said.
‘Just Naaru, makes me feel good.’
‘OK Naaru.’ I said hesitantly, trying to make a man four times my age happy by calling him by his name.
‘Plus it feels friendly. a t my age, you don’t have too many friends you know.’ He smiled, even though there was a mild sadness in it.
‘You look a bit uncomfortable today. Is everything alright?’ I asked.
‘I lost a friend today...’ though he subtly wiped it I noticed the moistness in his eyes ‘...we were friends for seventy years.’ He smiled.
‘I’m sorry, Naaru.’ I said, not knowing what to say.
‘Oh come on, don’t be sorry. I’ll be next.’ This time he grinned. ‘Till then be my friend, trust me, it gets horribly lonely up here at eighty.’
‘I will,’ I said.
‘Live the friends you have, memories are all you are left with in your last days.’ He patted my back lovingly and left smiling.
Months later, when me and Raghu went for his funeral, no one recognized us. Like us, there were hundred others who his family didn’t know, but all of them were his
“Cool. We are going to the City Club with Raunak Uncle’s family. Tell me if you kids want to come. I’ll put your name on the list,” he said.
“Sure, I’ll let you know.”
I wasn’t excited about it. Besides, Shashank and Raghu would have plans with their respective girlfriends. Then it suddenly hit me that it was the first time in the history of our friendship that Raghu, Shashank and I were single at the same time. Since school days there was someone or the other with either of us. No girl was ever good enough for Raghu so he was single most of the time. Shashank’s love stories couldn’t last for more than a month or two. But somehow his relationship with Neha lasted for six years while I was with Hrida for seven years. Shashank broke up with her some time after he went to the US. After my break up with Hrida, it was as if the Almighty had blessed the three of us with the ultimate era of bachelorhood. I called Raghu and asked him to meet me at the naka with Shashank.
The naka was originally a municipal corporation transport bus stop on the service lanes of eastern express highway which was encroached and transformed into a cigarette and chai stall. It had a four table seating arrangement where you could munch on bhajiya and other snacks with chai all day long. We had innumerous memories of this place. Raghu had discovered it back in the engineering days and it soon became the place to come to when we bunked college. We’d practically live in this shanty from morning till evening. Life was so much fun back then, I thought.
“Five milds and a lighter,” I told the guy at the stall. I lit a cigarette and took our table.
I noticed the guy beside me. I thought I’d seen him somewhere, his charm was very familiar. I asked who he was.
‘Narayan Kaka’s son.’ The stall owner said and smiled.
I smiled too.
Cut to a few years back:
The age group of friends we made at naka ranged from fifteen to eighty. But out of all of them there was this one person who touched my life. A grim looking eighty-year-old man, white hair, dark-complexioned, wrinkled face, body a bit frail but showed signs of what would once have been a hefty physique. He would come in everyday at the same time and smoke his n avy c ut and leave; he was never out of schedule, for years I saw him like that.
Then one day after his first cigarette instead of leaving he sat on a chair besides me at the stall and ordered a chai. There was something about this guy that made me smile every time I saw him. That day there was something off with him. I wanted to ask, but didn’t. He smiled back when he saw me staring at him.
‘Do you need anything Aajoba?’ I asked as I saw him look for something.
‘Do you have a light?’ He said with his n avy c ut in mouth, I gave him my lighter. ‘Call me Naaru,’ he said as he lit his cigarette and took a long drag.
‘OK, Naaru kaka,’ I said.
‘Just Naaru, makes me feel good.’
‘OK Naaru.’ I said hesitantly, trying to make a man four times my age happy by calling him by his name.
‘Plus it feels friendly. a t my age, you don’t have too many friends you know.’ He smiled, even though there was a mild sadness in it.
‘You look a bit uncomfortable today. Is everything alright?’ I asked.
‘I lost a friend today...’ though he subtly wiped it I noticed the moistness in his eyes ‘...we were friends for seventy years.’ He smiled.
‘I’m sorry, Naaru.’ I said, not knowing what to say.
‘Oh come on, don’t be sorry. I’ll be next.’ This time he grinned. ‘Till then be my friend, trust me, it gets horribly lonely up here at eighty.’
‘I will,’ I said.
‘Live the friends you have, memories are all you are left with in your last days.’ He patted my back lovingly and left smiling.
Months later, when me and Raghu went for his funeral, no one recognized us. Like us, there were hundred others who his family didn’t know, but all of them were his
Similar Books
