Encounter

I was always the talker, hence I always got the front seat. Had to talk to the driver, you see. Would be rude not to. --------------------------------------- This was college and this was us, the four of us, me and three others. Girls with enough money- just enough- to get a bite at a reasonably priced restaurant. The ride we had to hitch. So this beautiful Bangalore afternoon we were hungry and we set off walking towards Brigade Road. It didn’t take long for us to flag a car down. There was a middle aged man driving it. He looked harmless enough and we piled in. The other three- let’s call them Tall, Short and Medium- slid into the back seat and I was riding shotgun. Everything was as per schedule. Until the man driving the car threw a tiny but interesting spanner into the works... ----------------------------------- He had been talking about how dangerous it was to hitch rides in these uncertain times and I had been nodding perfunctorily and making the right noises when he suddenly said, “I have a proposition for you. Why don’t you girls come to my place and I will feed you to your hearts content?” ------------------------------------ I drew in a breath to begin a speech about why we couldn’t when, from the backseat, three voices went,” Yes, Uncle, yes”! And, sotto voce to me, Tall whispered,” Don’t be a spoilsport. Free food!” --------------------------------- Indeed- free food. The guy might be a perv, a demented maniac or somebody suffering from Alzheimer’s who would take us somewhere strange because he lost his way. But the opportunity for some grub without paying for it was too much to pass up. I nodded acquiescence, not without some trepidation. ---------------------------- The drive seemed to take forever. We were now in an area of Bangalore that I could barely recognise. Tall, Medium and Short were giggling away in the back seat and I found myself, for once, struggling to make conversation. Something felt a little off... And then we were there. ------------------------------ The yard was really brambly and the house looked a little run down. The whole street had a bit of an abandoned look and for the first time Tall, Medium and Short were silent. Had we just made a major boo boo? Oh, well- in for a penny, in for a pound... ------------------------------ Resolutely I exited the car and just as resolutely followed our benefactor into the house. It was a narrow doorway and opened into a tiny room which did nothing to allay my apprehensions. I noticed that Uncle, who had been quite garrulous in the car, was now ominously silent. ------------------------------ The room opened into another similar room and then into another pantry like area which was packed with Tupperware containers, which in turn led into a kitchen. And this was no ordinary kitchen. This was gleaming steel and sparkling wood and shiny floors, so clean you could eat off them. A five star kitchen. Uncle led us next into a sprawling living room. “Sit”, he said. We sat. He said something else and magically a lady appeared. “Feed them”, he said. And left! ---------------------------------- And as we murmured excitedly to each other, food began to appear- glorious steaming platters of Biriyani and kebabs and haleem and some sort of exotic pastry that I had never seen before. All talk had ceased a while ago. We looked at each other and set to. ----------------------------------- In the movies girls are shown having dainty little bites of food whilst boys stuff their faces like there’s no tomorrow. In reality, a hungry 18 year old is a hungry 18 year old, gender be damned. The food disappeared at an embarrassingly quick rate. ---------------------------------- In between large mouthfuls we gathered that Uncle had departed for Friday prayers. No matter. We were sated. Like overfed lions we lounged about on the sofas. I think I even took a small nap. --------------------------------- At around 4, steaming cups of chai appeared and were gratefully consumed. We wandered out into the garden, waiting for Uncle to return. After all, we had to say a thank you at least before leaving. ---------------------------------- As we were wondering what to do, in the distance we saw a bike approaching.” Stud alert”, said someone as the bike came closer. There was a seriously handsome chap riding it-white tee, boots, shades and jeans.The whole package. And as we tried to pretend that we were taking a stroll in our own garden, the bike entered the compound. -------------------------------- Mustering all her confidence, Short asked, “What do you want”. Stud got off the bike and looked her in the eye and said,” I live here. What do YOU want”. Gulp! ------------------------------- So we had to explain and we did but he interrupted us halfway through with a sigh. “ I see my father’s at it again”, he said. To cut a long story short, Uncle was a very generous man who loved feeding hungry waifs. Today happened to be our lucky day. ------------------------------------- By this time Uncle had arrived. After profuse thanks and a promise to him that we wouldn’t hitchhike again, we were off. As we were leaving, he pressed his visiting card into my hand. I only looked at the card once I got home and my eyes popped. Uncle was Haroon, the owner of the iconic Only Place, which served the best beef steak and apple pie in town. And that explained the quality of the repast that we enjoyed at his home. Serendipity! -------------------------------- Over the years, Haroon and I became good friends. We would sit on the steps of Nilgiris and sip chai and I would tell him stories and he would listen. A wonderfully warm, generous man- we spent so many pleasant evenings together. I lost touch with him after marriage, more’s the pity but whenever I think back to my college days I remember Haroon and that “luck by chance” encounter. ----------------------------------- Friendships happen in strange and unusual ways, sometimes for brief periods of time. But that does not make them any less meaningful. That afternoon and it’s aftermath is something I shall always remember fondly.... -----------------//----------//--------- Narrated by Goddess Sangita ----------------//-----------/ Chronicled by Her slave scribe Riley the Dog