Mohanan, or MenonSaar, as he was usually known, is a very close friend of mine, from many many years ago.
MenonSaar Mohanan, as he goes by, had several innings in the print media in Mumbai and elsewhere, starting from the ages of the Upper-Case+Lower-Case to electronic typewriters to the early 8 1/3rd Disk Drive green-screen DOS computers to the current lot of palmtops and laptops and whatnot. He had seen it all, and he had mastered them all, as they came by. Fascinatingly, he was an aeronautical engineer by training, a journalist by trade and an excellent friend, by heart. But, this story is not about his print media stuff. It's about a very fascinating adventure that he had, especially due to his very intense attachment to his work in the print media.
MenonSaar always has fascinating adventures. Each one is larger in scale than the previous one. But this one was straight out of the ethereal or surreal events that sometimes happen to each one of us. Do not question my hypothesis. If it has happened to you, I am sure, you would not know about it.
This happened to MenonSaar on one fine day when he was returning from Kolhapur, of all the places, for he had never gone there before, by road, in a "sleeper coach bus" via Pune to Mumbai. The bus ticket reservation touts had assured him at Kolhapur that this "super-fast super luxury sleeper coach airbus" would take him to Mumbai at the "right time" for him to make it to duty at the new newspaper that he was working at. The News Editor would be having his owlish eyes out at MenonSaar, for he was suspicious about him. He knew that MenonSaar had come to the paper with more than two decades of experience, and could easily take his place, if he was not careful about it. So, MenonSaar took care not to pose any threat, and made sure that he was a very good and dutiful 'employee' of the institution.
MenonSaar usually never traveled by long-distance bus on inter-city journeys. He prefered the train. But, this could not be avoided. Train tickets were not available and he had to make do with the inter-city bus. The road from Kolhapur to Pune was quite a comfortable one, four hours, and he knew that later, the bus would go over on the Mumbai-Pune Expressway, and that journey could be real fast at late hours. He did not like to sit on the cushion-seats and had managed to get lucky in getting a seat and a sleeper bed. This was the first time that he was getting one, and he wondered if he could get luckier and actually fall asleep, through the entire journey.
He tried to make himself comfortable for the journey. He had no luggage with him, no bags, no laptop or anything. He had come on a rapid impromptu journey to visit the local temples, and was returning. It was to be a single day journey, and he had expected to do the travel on both the nights. But, for this bus journey, MenonSaar went around the bus-stand area, checking out the shanties, and purchased two mineral water bottles, "Bisleri, Ayeess-Kold Bisslery" as they kept shouting out, and got some familiar banana chips, egg-free cakes and some bananas. This would do for the night, and it was only 6.30 pm here, at Kolhapur. They would probably be reaching some place at Pune by 10.00 or 11.00 pm.
He was worried, for he had had several cups of coffee, and at the bus-stand, had a large portion of Coca Cola, from a "wurrigginal phauntan" (= original fountain). His head was getting woozy, but he was feeling very hyper. He was sure that he could go and crash to sleep once on the bus. It was a very sultry evening, and the interiors of the bus was like a putrid oven, more like a fridge that had an open container of sliced up onions, and opened suddenly. The fermented smells hit him strongly inside the bus, and so, MohanSaar rushed to his seat and opened up the window, and desperately tried to breathe in all the air from outside. He should not have tried to do so, for there was a very badly maintained truck, right up, next to his window, that was revving up its gears, and the heavy particulate-matter smoke, dark dark smoke from the exhaust hit him straight away on his face. Badly hit by the smells inside, and the exhaust, MohanSaar was in a state of panic, and one desperate voice inside his brain was telling him, "Escape. Get out of the bus and go and take an unreserved seat in the train to Mumbai. Do not sit in this bus."
Another rational voice inside his head was arguing, "Wait. You do not have enough money now. This bus will start and it will all be okay once the highway air hits you. Relax. Wait." MohanSaar relaxed, and sat on his seat, and started munching on the banana chips. Ouch, he went... These banana chips were terrible. Not like the banana chips back from the motherland, from the heaven on earth. These were probably some terrible ones made locally, with yucky oil and more yucky taste. The egg-free cakes were much better, and so he relaxed, and waited for the bus to start and decided to also start on a banana. The banana chips could be kept aside for some time later.
It was better as the bus got out of Kolhapur city areas and on to the highway to Pune. The wind was better and MohanSaar began to feel happier. The bus picked up speed once it was on the highway, and MohanSaar settled in to his seat. The countryside was beautiful, and the daylight was quite clear, and he could suddenly see a very large Ganesha statue, an extremely large one, on top of a hill, to the East. It was an amazing sight. He could not have hoped to see such a sight in the train, especially if it was the usual night journey. This was much better, he felt.
Very soon, he was sleepy, and decided to climb up to the sleeper berth above the seat. It was quite an achievement to be able to climb on to the berth in the narrow aisle, but MohanSaar, as he succeeded in everything, he did so, and went to sleep. The caffeine from the coffee and the coke was reacting, but he was quite unaware. In his dreams, he was back at the journalism college, with all his friends, and sitting at the canteen, and making plans for trekking for the weekend. All friends were part of the discussion in the dream, and sure enough, there they were, Gaurang, Nasir, Bharat, Sunil and two other guys, whose names he could never remember.
Nasir was arguing as usual, in the dream, and insisting that they should go for trekking to the Western Ghats in Kerala, and MohanSaar was arguing for trekking at Rajmachi near Lonavala. Nasir and Sunil did not seem to heed to MohanSaar's insistence, and very soon they were in a long discussion of how to go to Kerala and how to plan for the trek. It was only Gaurang who was listening to MohanSaar, for Gaurang hated going anywhere in the South. For him, eating early morning, hot hot poha and having a cup of tea in the steady monsoon rain was much better than having idlis and coffee.
Then, the images in the dream began to get cloudy. It was like there was a gust of fog, but it was raspy too. MohanSaar began to cough. And, as he coughed, in the dream, the fog began to move away from him and on to Sunil, who welcomed it, and Nasir, who pushed it away, and Bharat, who just shifted away from the seat to a better location around the table. MohanSaar realised that it was Baangi, who had joined the group, as usual, smoking a cigarette as though he was smoking six. It was always a wonder that he could puff away like that manner, though he always had a single cigarette to accompany his languid persona.
Gaurang was saying something... that he would come for the trek only if there would be good food, and he could get his two 'degchi' (= large vessel) full of dal (= lentils) and rice, and chicks. At the mention of 'chicks', the ladies at the next table looked back disapprovingly, especially the dish who looked like Sadhana. Ohhhh... MohanSaar sighed in his sleep. If only he had had the initiative during those days, he could have asked her out. But that was not to be. He had been busy trekking on all weekends and had never had the time to ask them out. Bharat was explaining to the glorious-looking Sadhana-like that Gaurang did not mean 'Chicks'... but he actually meant that he wanted Chicken + Dal + Rice.
The images in the dream got very clear and sharp, and MohanSaar was excited. At last, after so many years, he could get to talk to all the ladies, his classmates, and explain to them that all he wanted was Chicken + Dal + Rice and seek their approval. But, Gaurang was interrupting. Gaurang was always interrupting. He was saying something again and again about two 'degchi' and that he wanted to eat separately, and he wanted his own chickens and he would eat his entire share by himself. Sunil Rao was puffing away on his cigarette and asked in his trademark languid style if they were to plan to purchase 4-6 chickens at the village, and ask some family to cook for the food. MohanSaar was upset with the manner in which Gaurang had interrupted, and he tried to stop him from talking. He waved out to him, while trying to avoid the cigarette smoke from Sunil Rao, and turned...
And turned, in the sleeper berth above the seats in the bus that was hurtling down at breakneck speed on the Kolhapur-Satara highway, and MohanSaar did what anyone who would turn around in the sleeper berths would do. MohanSaar fell down from the sleeper berth and on to the aisle, hitting himself on the seat handles, and on somebody's large suitcase and finally, hit his head very firmly on the aisle floor. The sound was muted due to the sound of the bus hurtling away, and the movie that was blaring out on the TV screen. Nobody seemed to have realised that someone had falled from the sleeper berth.
MenonSaar always has fascinating adventures. Each one is larger in scale than the previous one. But this one was straight out of the ethereal or surreal events that sometimes happen to each one of us. Do not question my hypothesis. If it has happened to you, I am sure, you would not know about it.
This happened to MenonSaar on one fine day when he was returning from Kolhapur, of all the places, for he had never gone there before, by road, in a "sleeper coach bus" via Pune to Mumbai. The bus ticket reservation touts had assured him at Kolhapur that this "super-fast super luxury sleeper coach airbus" would take him to Mumbai at the "right time" for him to make it to duty at the new newspaper that he was working at. The News Editor would be having his owlish eyes out at MenonSaar, for he was suspicious about him. He knew that MenonSaar had come to the paper with more than two decades of experience, and could easily take his place, if he was not careful about it. So, MenonSaar took care not to pose any threat, and made sure that he was a very good and dutiful 'employee' of the institution.
MenonSaar usually never traveled by long-distance bus on inter-city journeys. He prefered the train. But, this could not be avoided. Train tickets were not available and he had to make do with the inter-city bus. The road from Kolhapur to Pune was quite a comfortable one, four hours, and he knew that later, the bus would go over on the Mumbai-Pune Expressway, and that journey could be real fast at late hours. He did not like to sit on the cushion-seats and had managed to get lucky in getting a seat and a sleeper bed. This was the first time that he was getting one, and he wondered if he could get luckier and actually fall asleep, through the entire journey.
He tried to make himself comfortable for the journey. He had no luggage with him, no bags, no laptop or anything. He had come on a rapid impromptu journey to visit the local temples, and was returning. It was to be a single day journey, and he had expected to do the travel on both the nights. But, for this bus journey, MenonSaar went around the bus-stand area, checking out the shanties, and purchased two mineral water bottles, "Bisleri, Ayeess-Kold Bisslery" as they kept shouting out, and got some familiar banana chips, egg-free cakes and some bananas. This would do for the night, and it was only 6.30 pm here, at Kolhapur. They would probably be reaching some place at Pune by 10.00 or 11.00 pm.
He was worried, for he had had several cups of coffee, and at the bus-stand, had a large portion of Coca Cola, from a "wurrigginal phauntan" (= original fountain). His head was getting woozy, but he was feeling very hyper. He was sure that he could go and crash to sleep once on the bus. It was a very sultry evening, and the interiors of the bus was like a putrid oven, more like a fridge that had an open container of sliced up onions, and opened suddenly. The fermented smells hit him strongly inside the bus, and so, MohanSaar rushed to his seat and opened up the window, and desperately tried to breathe in all the air from outside. He should not have tried to do so, for there was a very badly maintained truck, right up, next to his window, that was revving up its gears, and the heavy particulate-matter smoke, dark dark smoke from the exhaust hit him straight away on his face. Badly hit by the smells inside, and the exhaust, MohanSaar was in a state of panic, and one desperate voice inside his brain was telling him, "Escape. Get out of the bus and go and take an unreserved seat in the train to Mumbai. Do not sit in this bus."
Another rational voice inside his head was arguing, "Wait. You do not have enough money now. This bus will start and it will all be okay once the highway air hits you. Relax. Wait." MohanSaar relaxed, and sat on his seat, and started munching on the banana chips. Ouch, he went... These banana chips were terrible. Not like the banana chips back from the motherland, from the heaven on earth. These were probably some terrible ones made locally, with yucky oil and more yucky taste. The egg-free cakes were much better, and so he relaxed, and waited for the bus to start and decided to also start on a banana. The banana chips could be kept aside for some time later.
It was better as the bus got out of Kolhapur city areas and on to the highway to Pune. The wind was better and MohanSaar began to feel happier. The bus picked up speed once it was on the highway, and MohanSaar settled in to his seat. The countryside was beautiful, and the daylight was quite clear, and he could suddenly see a very large Ganesha statue, an extremely large one, on top of a hill, to the East. It was an amazing sight. He could not have hoped to see such a sight in the train, especially if it was the usual night journey. This was much better, he felt.
Very soon, he was sleepy, and decided to climb up to the sleeper berth above the seat. It was quite an achievement to be able to climb on to the berth in the narrow aisle, but MohanSaar, as he succeeded in everything, he did so, and went to sleep. The caffeine from the coffee and the coke was reacting, but he was quite unaware. In his dreams, he was back at the journalism college, with all his friends, and sitting at the canteen, and making plans for trekking for the weekend. All friends were part of the discussion in the dream, and sure enough, there they were, Gaurang, Nasir, Bharat, Sunil and two other guys, whose names he could never remember.
Nasir was arguing as usual, in the dream, and insisting that they should go for trekking to the Western Ghats in Kerala, and MohanSaar was arguing for trekking at Rajmachi near Lonavala. Nasir and Sunil did not seem to heed to MohanSaar's insistence, and very soon they were in a long discussion of how to go to Kerala and how to plan for the trek. It was only Gaurang who was listening to MohanSaar, for Gaurang hated going anywhere in the South. For him, eating early morning, hot hot poha and having a cup of tea in the steady monsoon rain was much better than having idlis and coffee.
Then, the images in the dream began to get cloudy. It was like there was a gust of fog, but it was raspy too. MohanSaar began to cough. And, as he coughed, in the dream, the fog began to move away from him and on to Sunil, who welcomed it, and Nasir, who pushed it away, and Bharat, who just shifted away from the seat to a better location around the table. MohanSaar realised that it was Baangi, who had joined the group, as usual, smoking a cigarette as though he was smoking six. It was always a wonder that he could puff away like that manner, though he always had a single cigarette to accompany his languid persona.
Gaurang was saying something... that he would come for the trek only if there would be good food, and he could get his two 'degchi' (= large vessel) full of dal (= lentils) and rice, and chicks. At the mention of 'chicks', the ladies at the next table looked back disapprovingly, especially the dish who looked like Sadhana. Ohhhh... MohanSaar sighed in his sleep. If only he had had the initiative during those days, he could have asked her out. But that was not to be. He had been busy trekking on all weekends and had never had the time to ask them out. Bharat was explaining to the glorious-looking Sadhana-like that Gaurang did not mean 'Chicks'... but he actually meant that he wanted Chicken + Dal + Rice.
The images in the dream got very clear and sharp, and MohanSaar was excited. At last, after so many years, he could get to talk to all the ladies, his classmates, and explain to them that all he wanted was Chicken + Dal + Rice and seek their approval. But, Gaurang was interrupting. Gaurang was always interrupting. He was saying something again and again about two 'degchi' and that he wanted to eat separately, and he wanted his own chickens and he would eat his entire share by himself. Sunil Rao was puffing away on his cigarette and asked in his trademark languid style if they were to plan to purchase 4-6 chickens at the village, and ask some family to cook for the food. MohanSaar was upset with the manner in which Gaurang had interrupted, and he tried to stop him from talking. He waved out to him, while trying to avoid the cigarette smoke from Sunil Rao, and turned...
And turned, in the sleeper berth above the seats in the bus that was hurtling down at breakneck speed on the Kolhapur-Satara highway, and MohanSaar did what anyone who would turn around in the sleeper berths would do. MohanSaar fell down from the sleeper berth and on to the aisle, hitting himself on the seat handles, and on somebody's large suitcase and finally, hit his head very firmly on the aisle floor. The sound was muted due to the sound of the bus hurtling away, and the movie that was blaring out on the TV screen. Nobody seemed to have realised that someone had falled from the sleeper berth.
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