Sepia Relationships

My work was over and I was passing through the crowded passage of the office, when I heard a ‘hey’! The voice was familiar. I looked at the person. The gait was familiar too; beard also was same, except the color. Siba – Siba Misra, a photography student from my batch. In forty years all he had developed was hint of a paunch. Earlier he used to be like a banana leaf. He was completely recognizable to my forty years weaker eyes, even in that dim evening light. ‘Siba’, I shouted and we hugged. We barraged each other with, ‘How are you? How is your family? Children? What are they doing? How is wife?’ and then answered each other. Don’t ask me if the answers are still in my system. I told a fellow recordist in the office that we know each other since 1969!

You joined them recently? He asked. I said, yes, less than three months. Very good. It is the best TV software company in Bombay. They are very strong. I did not know those details, so I said, I am sure. Siba said he is in the team of directors that make CID. His production team surrounded him, so he got busy discussing work. I patiently watched him do that. After he finished we both walked out together. He was limping. I knew the story. I also knew that when we meet and time permits, he will narrate it to me himself with all the details and underlined passages. Although, the incidence had happened more than six years ago, it still is a strong experience for anyone…

He was accompanying his son to a college in Pune. They were going by train. As the train moved, Siba lost his balance and fell between the track and the platform wall. Train wheels pulled off a large part of his flesh just above his foot. There was panic. His son pulled the chain and jumped off the train. Soon he was pulled out and made to lie on the floor. As Siba lay unconscious, his very upset son was making calls. One of them was to owner of this TV production house. Brij reached there and got him required medical care until he was fine and ready to go home…

On the staircase of the office, he pulled up the bottom of his pant and showed me his right foot. It was jet black and was very badly swollen. He wore a sock over it to keep it hidden. He was always in chappals. But that was his usual style too.

We walked talking for about 10 min to reach his humble Maruti 800, just stood there and kept exchanging more notes. We had missed personal contact for years. I asked if his foot pains while walking. It is always paining, he said flatly. Only when he gets up in the morning and swelling is less, pain is a bit less; but as the day passes it swells up and pain also goes up.

We spoke about ‘Aangan Ki Kali’, a movie that we did together. We had many good things to talk about it: it was a clean, well made film on child adoption as its central theme. You couldn’t find any part that was done unprofessionally. It was shot well. Actors were good, Rakesh Roshan and Lakshmi. The child artiste, Geeta won a national award. Music was very nice too, ‘na rona munni na tu’, ‘saiyan bina ghar soona’, ‘tumhe kaise kahoon’. Bappi da was at his melodious best then. Siba said many years back he too directed a movie, which did not fare well on the box office, forcing a setback in his career. We spoke about a lot of setbacks in both our careers. In our unorganized entertainment business, there is no security. You can be out of job for years and then suddenly bounce back sometimes without even working on it.

We both were in no hurry for anything. Our comfort zone was completely in place. I said let’s find a place to sit and have a cup of tea. It was a bit noisy there. We looked around and found a decent Udipi restaurant, but he said, forget it; we will have a ‘cutting chai’ from the pavement. We walked some more and found a tea stall. As we sipped tea from little plastic cups, he said his injured foot reacts a second late to the mental commands. So he has to be very careful while driving.

There is so much to talk about so many people you have spent time with, especially as young students. They say every human being is a volume, if you know how to read him/her. So if the story is about two people it could become an epic…

On my last day, rather last night in the FTII in 1972, we both got very drunk on desi ‘ilayachi’ liquor. We slept in the same room. Due to overwhelming insecurity, we started making promises to each other that would make us feel better: we will stay together in Bombay too. If possible even work together.

When I took an auto for Poona railway station on May 3, 1972, I don’t remember if I was upset and to what degree. But I noticed that familiar places like the main theatre, wisdom tree, canteen, badminton court that I started, security cabin and finally the overhead sign board of FTII seemed different that day. All that had been a part of my every moment for the past 3 years. I also knew that it was going to be lost for a very long time to come. No, I don’t think I had time to feel sad, because I must have been too tense about my immediate future in the most ruthless dream city. To put it on record, I went back to FTII just for a day in 1974 for my convocation and then could never go back for next ten years!

It was about time. We walked back to his car. I said I will take an auto from here, but he said; I will drop you to the signal. So just for hundred meters I sat in his car and 15 seconds later got off; jumped in an auto and waved him bye. Strangely the content of our entire conversation was far from pleasant. It was mainly about sickness, failures, accidents, joblessness; but we went through it without feeling emotions attached to such conversation. I guess because the positivity of our meeting did not allow the sadness to take over. With such friends you are always on the same page, same pitch. No loss occurs in relationship, due to time lost.

Friendship with Conditions

Heart is a bit heavy today

It’s… because of the things around,

Perhaps

Or, is it because of me only?

My house?

Discolored walls of my house,

Cracks and leaks in the discolored walls of the house

… I can handle all that with money

But it is the attitude of people,

People, close and distant

Matured and grown up

It is high time it was decided

Any delay can cause unnecessary trouble

The trouble could grow

And turn into a demon beyond control

The point is not how many and how long the troubles have been

The point is ‘why’ have I been tolerating them?

More over why should I live with them any more

You think whatever you say, has a meaning

And my words make no sense?

Then we don’t have right to be together

If you feel you are in a jail

I too am choking to death

Like you are proud of the way you think

I too might have huge respect for my own thoughts

You can insult me in any way you want

Go ahead and insult my looks,

My shabbiness, sloppiness

I am fine with that

It could be the matter of taste

But I will not tolerate insult of my ideas

I love my way of thinking

Just like you

My thoughts are also unique in the world

Just like yours

They are precious

They are pretty

They are full of intelligence

They don’t lack anything

Just like yours

No one has a right to look down upon them

To insult them

They are products of my mind

They are pious for me

This will be a hard decision

But showing respect for my thoughts,

Will be a mandatory condition for friendship

If you say,

What is I said was, ‘wrong’

Then let us not waste time any more

I will turn left from next cross road

You take the right

And then be right, forever