42 Quirks

“Look for the window.”

I started scanning the room. It wasn’t too big; it would take me a few seconds to realize -

“There is no window.”
“Can’t be. Keep looking. It has to be here somewhere. There’s always a window.”
“You’ve been here before, right? Don’t you remember where you saw it last?”
“Things have changed. The room is quite different from what I remember. And anyway, I am as new to this place as you are. Just keep looking..”

Was there a hint of wistfulness in her voice? I decided not to pursue the matter further.
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“O-k-a-a-a-a-y, Hotel Sea Princess, eh? Right!”

Well, honestly, I had absolutely no idea where Hotel Sea Princess was. But I knew I had to be at #IndiMum.

I know, I know, all the jokes about it being a congregation of hot Indian mothers have been taken, and thanks to my previous job no one can fathom me going to a silence convention. Thus, there’s no option left but to explain #IndiMum right away – which, if you notice, I didn’t do. Sorry.

So anyway, #IndiMum was the twitter hashtag for the Indiblogger meet that happened at Hotel Sea Princess, Juhu on the 15th of August. Call it the Bloggers version of an AA meet if you will – at least that’s what it felt like when the introductions happened.

Wait, I’ve done that thing again, where I jump the gun, leaving you guys confused. And when I say you guys, I mean you – Shrikant, and the reading glasses – the only two things that are actually reading this. But since you are me, let me start from the beginning.
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Read the previous part here: Whodunit (Part I)
The story so far:
Jeeves & his master discuss the fire that gutted down the F.S.B. Was it an accident? Was it arson? Read on to find out!
——-

There was a slight pause (or had I imagined it?) before Jeeves continued.

“Not quite, sir. Most of the money went into clearing the debt. The surplus money was being utilized for the upkeep of the school; for instance, some of it went into buying the turpentine for polishing the wooden floors & doors.”

I had a look on my face that said you-must-be-joking. He had a look on his face that said I’m-not-kidding.

I’d seen that look earlier. I knew what that look meant.

Every year the students that graduate out of Butler School are given an opportunity to choose a butler-name for themselves. Most of them chose Jeeves – after the character made immortal by P.G.Wodehouse – for themselves; only a few of them live up to the name. John Smith graduated at the top of his class & the rest, you would think, is history, right?
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“Ah, here you are, sir! Welcome back to F.S.B. I hope your travel did not pose too many problems? May I take your hat & your coat?”

That is Jeeves – always the gentleman. But don’t worry. My name isn’t Bertie Wooster. And this isn’t a P.G.Wodehouse story.
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The first meeting is always special – and she knew the drill by now.

First, look for a sucker. Identifying them wasn’t such a huge deal. All she had to do was look for the ones with the glazed eyes, a foolish smile & a lost expression on their faces. Okay, so the foolish smile was a red herring – I was just checking if you were paying attention.

Second, position self. If the sucker had been already primed, the position was automatically decided – somewhere in the area swept by the corner of the eye, but well away from the blind spot. Obviously, if you want to get noticed, what’s the use of settling in the blind spot, eh?

Third, call-out, but do NOT make it too obvious. A sly glimpse, a sneak peek, a quick glance – barely visible but enough to get noticed. Making your presence felt was what was important. Once this step was complete, the rest of it was a cakewalk, all downhill, easy as pie – you get the drift…

Sometimes, there would be a fourth step, too – nudge. More often than not, this step came into play only if the sucker was engrossed in something else, or had too many things on their mind, or – as it had happened in some in some extreme cases – had A.D.D.

Only the patient ones stayed back for step four. Tonight, she did not count herself among the patient ones.
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Eyes closed, arms spread wide,
I wait & watch the ocean’s tide.
I feel the air nudge my toes,
Miles beneath me, the water flows…
Silent & still, the ocean awaits;
My arrival at its watery gates.

Knees cocked, arms to the side,
I slowly lean towards the tide.
The vast expanse of ocean blue,
Presents itself, an enchanting view.
Will it be glory? Will it be a wraith?
I wonder & take the leap of faith…

——
I will be quitting my job at Radio Mirchi at the end of this month. In other words, yours truly will no longer be “RJ Shrikant” anymore.

:)

Once upon a time there was a boy named Baba.

Baba was born into a family which was quite poor. They were so poor that the only birthdays they celebrated were when they were born. Obviously, none of them remembered any of it. In fact, they were deemed socially poor BECAUSE they were economically poor and that bothered Baba a lot.

However, that did not deter Baba from wanting to get educated. He studied wherever he could – under the street lights, in the midst of a noisy crowd. All he needed was a little bit of time & a little bit of space. Such was his thirst for knowledge. And it paid ample dividends.

Baba became one of the most well-read, well-educated & well-respected people in the country.

He went on to write a very important book. The book was so important that it was read by everyone, everywhere in the country and referred to at all times. They referred to it when the country was at war, they referred to it when the country was at peace. They referred to it when the country needed guidance, they referred to it when the country didn’t need it at all!

They first referred to it when the rulers of the country changed & have been referring to it ever since…

One very important part of the book that Baba wrote involved a series of statements that went like this:

• To become socially rich, one must become economically rich.
• To become economically rich, one must be backed by the socially rich.
• The only way to break this vicious circle is by ‘booking’.

The ‘booking’ concept was quite radical. You book certain seats in the socially rich section for the socially poor & help them become economically rich and thus, socially rich. Once enough among the socially poor become socially rich (ergo economically rich) you stop these ‘bookings’ & let things go back to their previous state of affairs.

Baba was quite happy with this state of affairs & believed that the entire ‘reductio ad absurdum’ would now mean that nobody would be socially poor!

But where there’s a flight, there are hijackers waiting to usurp control.

This radical concept of ‘bookings’ was clearly a flight of fancy & hence it was duly hijacked & redirected on a direct collision course towards the twin towers of Equality & Justice. And that’s how both of them crashed to the ground.

Thus, as a direct result of the bookings, the socially poor got economically richer, the economically rich got socially richer & the socially rich weren’t the least bit bothered – since it was no skin off their nose, anyway.

One eventful result of this radical bit of thinking was that it earned Baba a lot of followers – some even crossed the line to become his ‘disciples’! His teachings weren’t exclusive but they took the plunge anyway. His disciples ensured that Baba was accorded the respect he always deserved wherever he went – not that anybody wasn’t willing to give it – but they went ahead and stamped their authority anyway; for want of better things to do in life.

Had Baba known, he would certainly be offended about it. But he was long dead by the time this happened. Dead people take no offense, you see, so all was well with the world.

The disciples sang his praises, erected shrines for him, celebrated his birthday year-after-year – they did everything he had always wanted to do, but couldn’t do for various reasons. There wasn’t a handbook to follow per se, but in retrospect, they thought they had managed it quite efficiently & they happily went about patting their backs.

And so it came to be that the boy named Baba, who had NEVER seen a birthday cake in his life, saw his birthday being celebrated with huge processions from point A to point B, with ‘walls’ of loudspeakers blaring the latest popular hits – all done with the sole purpose of ‘ keeping his memory alive’.

- The End -

PS: A few people wondered whether memory & loud-speakers were really connected. Extensive research was conducted into the correlation between memory & loud-speakers, but nobody was able to come up with a satisfactory explanation. Also, it made the disciples unhappy & the subject was dropped anon, without any further explanation.

—
Disclaimer: The fictional nature of this post is directly proportional to the readers’ inclination towards irrational fundamentalism. Cheers.