To paint the stage
with a play of words.
To bring the house down
with the curtains of
a myriad emotions.
To walk a few miles
down character lane
wearing someone’s shoes
and not your own.
To bask in the afterglow
of laughter peals.
To know that you made
the teardrop fall.
That’s the high.
That’s the uninhibited rush.
That’s the theatre of life.
Applause. Curtain Call.
Fade out. House lights.
A friend of mine who had been in school and college with me mailed me a few days back saying he was coming to Hyderabad for a couple of days and would like to meet up with me. Needless to say I was delighted and spread the word around amongst the other classmates and friends, especially amongst the HPS 1972 ISC batch of classmates.
Since the friend only had this afternoon free, I had to think of calling him home for ‘chai’. On a whim I decided it would be Irani Chai to take us back in time with Osmania Biscoots and Lukhmi to go with it. A few of our classmates agreed to drop by and suddenly it was a party.
Yesterday I got a brainwave. Since this was a meeting of the old boys of HPS it would be a nice thing if I sported khaki. The wife thought I had finally lost it, but having being immunised over the years she took my insanity in her stride. Especially when I told her my plan.
I have a cousin in the army who I was sure could arrange for one of his big built Jawans to lend me his khaki shirt for the day. Imagine my surprise when he informed me that the Indian Army had given up on Khaki many years ago.
He must have heard the disappointment in my voice when he came up with a suggestion. There was a street in Secunderabad which was known for its Army Surplus Stores and he was sure a khaki shirt could be sourced from there.
A couple of hours later his orderly landed up at home with a khaki shirt in hand. I was truly impressed and immensely grateful. Then I tried the shirt (on the advice of the orderly) and found it didn’t fit. That was a downer but I stoically took the “Well, you can’t say I didn’t try” attitude and reported to my cousin the unfortunate news that while I had recently lost weight, it obviously was not enough.
Oh hell said my cousin and we disconnected our phone conversation on a let’s catch up soon note. A few hours later however the orderly was back, this time demanding a shirt that I was comfortable in/with. I was too groggy to wonder why he wanted this shirt but I gave it to him.
Good Morning Hyderabad and this morning the orderly was back with m
y shirt and a khaki shirt stitched to my size and specifications. The tailor had obviously been up the whole night stitching a shirt for the Brigadier Saaheb.
If I was impressed before, I was now in awe. If grateful before, I am now beholden. Cousins like this are hard to find, just as whims like this are hard to fathom. But thanks Bro. Thanks.