When Qaiser A. called upon me some days back I immediately noticed that he was not his usual self. Normally a chirpy guy full of gossip and juicy titbits his face wore a haunted look.
“What ails you pal?” I asked him.
“What! Er…um…nothing!” he said with a start.
“You are jumpier than a new horse in the town! You haven’t got yourself into some sort of a trouble, have you?”
He grabbed my arm. “Has she told you as well?! Is she going to report me?!” His voice bordered on the hysterical.
“Come on! What is it?! And who’s she? Don’t tell me you are in trouble because of some girl?” I said shocked by his condition as well as his words. In fact the very thought that somebody like Qaiser A. could be in trouble over a girl is shocking because he has always been a brotherly sort of guy, the sort even the most modest damsel would feel safe and comfortable with. Age had changed nothing of this quality except that ‘brotherly’ had become ‘avuncular’.
Instead of responding to my questions Qaiser A. stared at me with a mute appeal in his eyes, his chin quivering like a whole clan of worms had come to life inside it. It was evident that he was having a hard time controlling his emotional distress and it was not long before he lost it and covering his face with his hands he began to sob!
I shook the wretch, “Hey buck up man! What’s gotten into you!”
“Last night after I returned from the Isha prayers I received a phone call, the caller was a female and when she asked me whether I was Qaiser A. I said yes. I couldn’t place the voice and told her as much. It was then that she revealed that she was Suni calling from China…” he said between sobs.
“Suni?”
“We used to be in kindergarten together,” he explained.
“Oh! It is always nice to hear from childhood friends.”
He shuddered and said, “I was pleasantly surprised by her call though I did feel that her tone was rather cold. And then she said it!”
“Said what?”
“She…she said that I had harassed her many times in the kindergarten. Pushed her couple of times in the class and she also said that I would deliberately place my bag on the bus seat so that she had to squeeze herself into a corner! She…she said she was seriously considering reporting me to the authorities!” he started to hyperventilate.
“Et tu, Brute? I mean this is #metoo stuff!”
“Yes,” he wailed, “That too when the Masjid Intizamia elections are just around the corner! I thought this time I would win for sure.” He added with a whimper, “Will they put me in a Chinese jail?”
Before I could ponder upon this possibility, somebody knocked on the door. It turned out to be Javed S. who is a childhood buddy of Qaiser A. “Is Qaiser A. hereabouts? I have been looking for him all day,” he said.
“Yes he’s here. Why don’t you come in?” I invited him inside. This Javed S. is quite a jolly fellow but today he looked like a bad case of indigestion. Now that wouldn’t be strange because Javed S. is a bit too fond of eating but this time it looked like something was eating him and giving him indigestion at the same time!
“There you are,” he said as he saw Qaiser A. and then noting his condition he said, “What happened? Is everything alright?”
“Yes…well no!” Qaiser A. said, “You see I received a call yesterday. It was…”
“Suni from China?” Javed S. supplied.
“Yes! How do you know?! Is it on the news?” Qaiser A. said in an alarmed voice.
Javed S. struck his forehead with his palm. “Oh God! So she informed you too about me!”
“About you?!” Qaiser A. and I said almost in the same voice.
“Yes…,” he faltered for a moment looking at me but then he plunged on desperately, “She said that I am guilty of…er…unbecoming conduct during our days in the kindergarten. She says I deliberately bumped into her once and also said that I once forced my way into the ladies washroom!” Javed S’s indigestion seemed to worsen as he said all this.
“Did you?” Qaiser A. said in a hoarse whisper.
“Did I what?”
“Barge into the washroom?”
“I don’t know! I always had to hurry with things you know. My poor gut!”
“Yes and you used to eat a lot those days too and needed to go to the washroom frequently,” Qaiser A. said in a commiserating tone.
“Ladies washroom! Ladies washroom in kindergarten!” I mused and while the two friends exchanged their troubled notes the plot began to unravel in my mind.
“Give me her number!” I said to them. “I might be able to negotiate matters with her,” I added sensing their hesitation. At this they readily gave me the number.
I went to another room and called the lady, “I am speaking from the local police station. Two guys have surrendered here saying that you are pressing #metoo charges against them.”
“What the ….!” Suni said laughing heartily, “How silly can silly get! It was meant to be a joke!”
“It is no joke madam,” I decided to turn the joke back on her, “In fact I am glad to inform you that one of the guys has deservedly had a heart attack and won’t make it probably!”
“But…” Suni protested in a horrified voice. I disconnected the call. Let the lady sweat it out!
“Issue resolved!” I informed the two miserable specimens, “She will soon call you to say that it was just a joke!” Their faces were a comic mix of relief and disbelief.
Later in the day as I went for a walk, I was still smiling at this amusing episode when my eyes fell upon a lady who was looking at me intently and who looked kind of familiar. I immediately aborted my smile but now it was the lady who was smiling. I was in a state of alarm by the time she crossed over to my side and accosted me saying, “Excuse me I think we were in the same school.”
My tongue felt too big for my mouth and I barely managed to stammer, “Madam you’re mistaken. I…I never went to school!” and leaving one puzzled lady standing on the road I almost broke into a run and dashed into a nearby side lane. How silly can silly get! But then we live in dangerous times…
(Truth is mostly unpalatable…but truth cannot be ignored! Here we serve the truth, seasoned with salt and pepper and a dash of sauce (iness!). You can record your burps, belches and indigestion, if any, at snp_ajazbaba@yahoo.com)