THE NAMELESS ACQUAINTANCE BY PRANIT SAHNI

THE NAMELESS ACQUAINTANCE

By Pranit Sahni

The warm light came trickling in from the partly ajar curtain, caressing me and throwing a pale shadow on the wall. I opened my eyes, still drowsy from the lack of sleep. It definitely had to do something with the alien room I slept in, which was glowing courtesy stick-on’s attached to the ceiling. I gingerly got up and made my way to the kitchen, the store house of all the evils in the world which were responsible for my round frame (obese is such a negative word). The main offender, the one I constantly blamed for her extraordinary culinary skills, was stooped over the stove making breakfast.

“Good Morning how was the first night in the new house,” asked mom.

“Uneventful!”

I walked out to the balcony and inspected the pool below with clinical detachment. I shouted:

“Mom! I am going for a swim.”

“Ok, but be home latest by 8:30.”

I preferred walking down five flights of stairs to waiting for the eternally slow lift. I left the shadow of the enormous building only to be greeted by a merciless sun, whose intensity made me squint. I took a left after reaching the amphitheater; a right later I entered the changing room (that’s what the big shiny board outside proclaimed, but I beg to differ). The (changing) room consisted of malfunctioning shower heads and detachable shower knobs. The lavatory meant for relieving certain pressures were so strategically placed, that the only mammals they could serve were toilet-trained dogs. The mosquito-infested environment was more than enough to drive even a person as indifferent towards hygiene as me, out in a jiffy.

I wasn’t oblivious to my not so-toned physique but I subdued my pride and walked out towards the pool. Archimedes principle was at its striking best as I dived into the pool. As if I was the motivating factor, a family of three left the pool. I continued undeterred, my mind was focused on only one thing, my goal (which at the moment was reaching the other end of the pool without taking a break in between). I did a few laps and decided to take a break not wanting to overexert my grossly unfit body.

Only once I stopped did I notice that I was no longer alone. I now shared the pool with an old couple. Uncle noticed that I had stopped and came up to me and said, “Son that was quite a workout, for how long have you been swimming.”

“Since class 2”, I replied in my usual perfunctory manner, not wasting any words. I then used the observations skills I had honed after reading umpteen Secret Sevens and Famous Fives to narrow down on his type of moustache. It came down to handlebar and pencil but after some research (later), I finally zeroed in on an intermediate I called the scrawny one.

Sensing my apprehension uncle beat a slow retreat, but that wasn’t the end of our meetings. We met everyday for the next month at the pool. Slowly, I opened up and spoke to both uncle and aunty once in a while, but our usual mode of communication would be a warm smile once our gazes would meet. This continued everyday till school started, after which we only met on Sundays.

October transcended upon us like a sword and unceremoniously cleaved our budding friendship, as the pool closed down courtesy the off season. Our meetings were few and far between but every time we did meet, I flashed a toothy grin. Next year, I met them at the same place at the same time, the only difference being that I had actually made a friend. This was more than mildly surprising, considering my introvert nature.

The first time my friend accompanied me to the pool he saw me leave him and go towards uncle and aunty to speak to them. When I returned, he asked me, “Who are they?” I did not know how to respond, so I just said, “I don’t know.” Hearing this, his face went blank and he gave me an incomprehensible look. I just left him looking zapped in the middle of the pool and zoomed away to do another lap.

But thereafter, soon, our weekly meetings severed as uncle and aunty stopped coming down to swim. This continued for three weeks. I then decided to investigate. I kept on enquiring about them, but it is particularly hard to get to know a person’s whereabouts just by describing their scrawny moustache. Half of the people I asked looked at me as though my mind had taken a hike, while the other half just ran away thinking that I was a stalker. I truly understood the importance of a name in those two days of futile efforts. At last, a Good Samaritan stepped in and gave me their house number. For the next few hours those numbers kept resounding in my head, bringing a seamless amount of joy every time they popped into my mind. I went home and started working on a cake I knew courtesy my sisters four minute recipe. When I was happy with the end product I left my house and made my way to house number 308. The name plate outside the house, just below the brass plate that pronounced the fact that it indeed was House no. 308, read A.V. Rao. I stood outside the house for more than a minute thinking about my strategy to start a conversation. On drawing a blank I decided to take a risk and pray to god that it wouldn’t be awkward.

I knocked on the door with a conviction I didn’t feel. There was no response for a while but I decided to wait and soon enough, I heard the sound of footsteps plodding down the stairs. A moment later the door was pushed open wide and a haggard face came into view. I almost dropped the cake in disbelief. Uncle stood there in front of me smiling as if he was unaware of the amount his body had changed. I flashed a smile for the sake of old times, but didn’t take a step forward. I stood there transfixed and utterly ashamed of myself for not trying to locate him earlier.

“Oh! Please come inside,” he said, straining on every syllable.

I went inside and placed the cake on the compact dining table and said, “Where is aunty, I want to give her the cake personally.”

Tears started rolling down Uncle’s face, and I knew! I didn’t know what to say. My experience of comforting people had only been limited to consoling friends after their break up. A fifty day partner is easier to forget but how is someone supposed to forget a person they have spent fifty years of their life with. I just stood there admiring the lack of ornate work on the tiles of the floor. I wanted to run out of the house but my conscience wouldn’t let me. I stood there for five minutes and then told uncle that I needed to go out. I bid adieu and walked out of the door not looking back. That night I could not sleep, and during my tryst with insomnia, I decided to meet uncle once again.

 I went the next day and every day after that for a month. I spent thirty minutes on each of those days thoroughly enjoying myself. We spoke about everything under the sun from songs to our indifferent attitude towards the politicians of the country. The highlight of the meetings was our discussion on script deficient movies which sadly the industry kept churning out mercilessly. By the end of the month, I was happy to see uncle smile again, especially in anticipation of my visit the next day. My school started, but every once in a while I took out time for uncle.

Eight months later uncle passed in his sleep. His face looked at ease and he had a smile on his face. It was almost like he knew he was going back to his wife, his love, his old life. If only I knew his passing away would leave such a large crater in my life, I would have spent a lot more time with him. But unfortunately, that is not how the world works.

A few weeks later, about the time I was coming to terms with the loss, I got an unexpected visitor. It was three in the afternoon and I was studying (for a change!). The door bell rang cutting through my easily lost concentration. I got up reluctantly and opened the door. A man was standing outside with a paper in his hand

“Yes,” I asked giving him a weird look.

“My father has mentioned you in his will”, he said with a slight British accent.

I was stunned. “To you he has left all his love and affection and has thanked you for being there for him, when even his children weren’t,” he added the last part with a slight sheepishness but that was understandable.

“Well I am truly surprised, I never expected this.”

“Well! you know what they say, expect the unexpected.”

“I’ll remember that next time.”

I closed the door only to open it a second later.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“Yes”

“Could you do me a favour?”

"Sure", he said hesitantly 

“Could I know his, I mean your fathers name?”

The man stopped in his tracks, shell-shocked.

“I would like to take this opportunity to quote you, expect the unexpected,” I added with a cheeky smile.

He just said Amar Vir Rao and left.