Last night I attended the wedding reception of a friend’s son. The venue was just a little out of Hyderabad, very close to BHEL, just off the Bombay Highway. I must admit that I whispered irritated thoughts to myself as we drove there. Who in his right mind would chose a venue so far away? Only a Surd, Only a Surd…the answer kept echoing and rebounding on the walls of my agitated mental corridor.

Yes, the host was a Surd and a dear friend at that. And when I reached the venue I realised that hardy practicality had dictated the choice. The venue was humongous, extremely well appointed and the airconditioning was hyper efficient. Obviously an instance where the author of unexpected genius was a Sardar.

And that brings me to the thought that has been bugging me since last night.

Since the host was a Sardar, the other invitees naturally also were of the same ilk. They all wore black suits and ties, all of them had done their beards and all of them were in crisply turned out turbans. And almost all of them had gorgeous smiles. In fact you’d be hard pressed to tell one from another.

I must admit that a dirty joke did tickle my memory. Apparently a call girl was entertaining a Chinese man. After a hectic round of lovemaking the girl was exhausted when she was surprised by the Chinaman suggesting that they go another round. Somewhat flattered, she agreed and thought that would be the end of it. But surprise, surprise the Chinaman wanted it again, and wanted more. She obliged again. And this went on almost all through the night.

From being an overly satisfied young lady she transformed into a highly exhausted and sore thing who got a shock of her life when she peeked below the bed and saw almost a dozen Chinamen sleeping the sleep of the evil and the innocent.

The punchline was something about her being Shanghai’ed when all she got paid for was to get screwed.

I could well imagine an Indian variation of the joke using Sardars. Because frankly I don’t think I have seen as many Sardars as I saw last night as I did at the Republic Day Parade.

Be that as may be, the vision of all these bearded wonders sparked off a nostalgic trip to Calcutta when I was a kid in Class 4 and in the hockey team along with an athletic Surd Charanjeet Singh.

We moved to Hyderabad a couple of years later and I bumped into Rabinder and Gurbinder SIngh my neighbours from Gagan Mahal Colony. And also a classmate in Grammar School, Gurgeet Singh whose father was the head of the Oil Seeds Corporation.

Later I had Gurcharan Singh Saluja in class, God Bless his Soul. Then there was a gap for a few years and only when Taranjeet Singh, a student of HCU came into my life, did my Surd Saga continue.

I wonder where all the Surds are. All those who sparkled my life with the joie de vivre that only these rhythmatic souls possess.

Wherever you are, if you are listening…hello…and thanks ever so much.