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Thursday, November 27, 2014

A Leaf From My Book Of Memories...


... reproduced at the behest of my friend Sudhir, being placed before my childhood chums.

Two decades and a couple of years back, Azad and I went for the 1st show at Sujatha theatre, which, if you remember was on the road behind Cochin College (I don’t know if it still exists).  As usual, Azad sponsored the tickets to king’s row - those days I was a perennial pauper - and we sat down to watch the movie. I don’t  recollect the name. The first half went off without a glitch but half way through the second half the power went off. The only options before us were to sit through the power cut and see the movie when the supply resumed or leave the theatre and head home to avoid a conflict for coming in late.

Azad came up with an alibi to save his arse, but I was worried. It was difficult to gauge my dad’s varying moods. Or, come up with a reason for my coming in late to suit his existing frame of mind. Anyway despite all my fears, I decided to stick through the movie come what may. I had 20 paisa in my pocket for student's ticket fare. With that we bought two blue bird cigarettes and puffed through the power cut. The power-supply resumed shortly and the movie was over by ten at night. As we had already sent up our bus fare in smoke, we half walked, half ran our way home after taking a shortcut at Pandikudy. Azad had some more distance to cover to reach his house, therefore we bid adieu in front of my gate.

When I opened the gate to step into my house, I found my father dressed up and  ready to step out. So, feigning innocence I asked him where he was going so late in the night. He said he planned to go to Gary’s house to check on me for being so late (I had told mum that I was going to Gary’s house for combined study). The power failure was a twist of fate, which I couldn't anticipate. Then, I reasoned with him and tried to pacify him by saying that it was too late to go to anybody’s house. “Does he have a phone?” was his next question. Since we didn't have a telephone, I tried to wiggle out by telling him that no booths will be open so late at night. It was the era of STD booths and late night calls and that stupid reason gave me away. He said, “You lead me to his house, I’ll follow you”! He added that Gary’s parents, being parents themselves, will understand his concern for paying them a visit so late into the night.

The rest, my dear friends is history - the circuitous route I took to find a secluded spot and spill the beans, which took us to the junction on 50 feet road before Dalton’s house, past Biju Peter’s house, St. Jude’s shrine, Joseph Sebastian’s house, even Gary’s house, and then the deserted stretch in front of INS Dronacharya, where I confessed, earned some sound whacks on the spot; the non-stop festivities that followed for a few days at home thereafter was the icing on the cake. I also recollect the frequent rests he took on the way due to his heart condition.

For all his efforts and worries, he left us very early and I am the president of Utopia.

Regards

Vincent Thomas



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