Standing and dripping under the
shade of the cold Corporation Bank ATM, four strangers stared into nothingness
wondering when the rain would stop. I was one of them. One uncle broke the
silence, "Is there a short-cut to enter Xavier's from here?" "Yes," I replied,
"But you really can't use it. Security won't allow you."
Striking
a conversation with strangers is very interesting, especially when you are stuck
somewhere and have got nothing else to do. And, it becomes necessary for
some others to speak as they feel it is really important to make their presence
felt in the interest of fundamental rights, the present government's plight and
patriotism(because its only that time when people think about the country, for
e.g. "Bhai sahab, aaj kal sab neta aise hi hain. Hum aam logon ke baare mein
koi nahi sochta!")
The above principle made another
lady speak, "Eh, dis is Reng Bheven lane, no? Is Xavier cempus
really dhat big?" That Uncle (My friends don't like it if I call strangers
Uncle or Aunty) butted in," No, this isn't the Rang Bhavan lane."
"Those terrorists also came
here, no.. I saw in dhe T.V. My friend lives here, she also
saw."
I said, "Yeah.. They came they shot
those officers dead. I lit candles for them."
Aunty-" No. but dhe news people
said.. It is Reng Bheven Lane.." She felt important.
"No, it is not. It is
called Badruddin Tyebji Marg," the well-informed Uncle gave some gyan.
The other Aunty, who could not hold
it any longer, spoke,"This ATM shutter has a hole. They shot at it." And then
she felt important. I corrected her, "No, it is the bank door where they shot.
The hole is still there on there on the glass door too." I managed to contribute some valuable information to the
conversation.
Uncle chirped," I could see the Taj
and the helicopter too." And here, both the conversation and the rain stopped, leaving
Uncle feeling the most important of all.
But, it left me wondering why did
we inflate ourselves in this manner? Who was the
rightful owner of these lingering, but distorted memories?
