Swami - the one that got excluded...

The last few days have been exhilarating with the launch of my book 'Love at first sight & other stories' a collection of short stories which is out now and is available on eBay.in.  I'd like to post one of my favorite stories which couldn't be a part of the book. It is called 'Swami'. There is a  reason why I was not able to get this story included in the book which I can't explain. But this one is very close to my heart. Anyway, hope you will like it. Here goes!

Swami

Obscured by clouds, the Sun looked like the Moon that December morning. A rare fog though not too dense had engulfed the city. Men and women wore ironed clothes and rushed to their workplaces. School children dressed smartly in their uniforms took little steps to cross the street. Shopkeepers prayed for a good day as they lit up incense sticks. A green grocer sprinkled water on fresh vegetables as he pushed his cart. Light was a little low for 9 am. College students gathered at the bus stop and chatted as they waited for their respective buses. Dinning noises from the accelerating vehicles and the restless honking made little difference to Swami who slept like a log.

At 10.40 am, Swami woke up lazily from his bed still stinking of the Toofan brand whiskey he had last night. With his eyes still half shut like shutters on a Bandh day, he looked for something in his shirt pocket and then under his pillow. When he found his Gutkha, he tore open the sachet and poured its contents in his mouth and tried to open his eyes wider while still lying down. Swami's seventy two year old father silently prayed as he saw his thirty-seven-year old son lay on his bed completely useless. He had become immune to the guilt of having given birth to a son who was an epitome of a wasted life.

Swami had a planet sized ego. Though he never managed to pass in any exam after the ninth standard, he had the confidence of an IAS officer. Also, what surprised people most when they met him for the first time was the command with which he spoke. He proclaimed expertise in women, sex, relationships, cricket, medicine, politics, bureaucracy, international relations....well almost everything except computers. He shaved and had a haircut only once in three months which made him look shabby. In the last twelve years, he had not worn clean clothes. The last time he looked good was in his marriage. But, his most remarkable quality was his ability to praise someone to an extent that the person would get ready to be his slave for life. No one knew how he managed it. 

After his bath everyday, Swami prayed like a priest. It was the only sight that had kept Swami's parents alive. Otherwise, they had given up on him. He had been at home for the last twelve years without any work whatsoever. He had married once and not surprisingly, his wife left him. No one else in the building liked him and there were a few who waited for some miracle to come by and take him away forever. 

In the afternoon, after a heavy lunch, Swami slept again and woke up only at five in the evening. This was his routine everyday, till 5 pm. But once the clock struck five, he would get ready in his Gutkha stained shirt and trousers and wait for someone or the other to take him out and buy him drinks. He adopted the same strategy everyday...Praise & Hunt. There were also a few who would come periodically and take him out. One of them was Jacob. He was his only consistent friend for the last twenty years. Also, he was the only one who had the good fortune of being offered drinks by Swami. Jacob was unmarried and was Swami's classmate at school. He worked as a clerk in a private company and lived comfortably and had enough property to take care of. Once in a week, he would meet Swami and  they would sit over drinks and most commonly end up in an argument over an issue which was concerned with neither of them. Swami, in a fit of rage would break bottles at the bar and then they would be thrown out. Outside the bar, the fight would end and they would hug each other and return home. This happened almost every alternate time they met.  

At 5.10 pm that day, Swami was on his terrace. He looked around like a spy and scanned  the vicinity for women like an automated CCTV camera. He reached out for his pocket, took out a cigarette and lit it. As he took the first drag and was about to blow it  into the misty dense air, someone hit him on his head. He coughed and almost choked. 

"Bastard..." he said as his voice almost died.

"Sorry Sorry. I was just..," said a voice.

"Jacob! After so many days? Where were you?," asked Swami

"My company had sent me on a small tour. Anyways, keep all office shit aside... what's the plan today?" asked Jacob as he snatched the cigarette from his hand. 

"I have no money today. You have to decide," replied Swami.

"You don't worry about money. Where do you want to go today,?" asked Jacob.

"Anything, up to you," said Swami

"Ok. Let's go to our old bar. What say?"

"No. I will never come there again. Remember we got into trouble last time when I almost hit the owner," replied Swami. 

"Ok. Now listen, there's a new shop they opened on the other side of the lake. Not very decent, but its ok. After 3 pegs, all bars are the same," said Jacob as he pulled out a Rs. 500 note from his pocket and put it into Swami's pocket.

"Keep this with you. I will cover all the expenses today. Don't worry." he said.

"Thanks man," said Swami with moist eyes.

And thus, another evening full of excess drinking, needless rant, unsolicited free advice by the unemployed man to the employed one began. Swami tore a sachet of Gutkha as he entered the new bar they had planned to visit that evening. 

The new bar looked anything but new. It wasn't even a bar. It was a large hall behind a wine shop with scores of men and women mostly from the labor class sat in groups and created a chaos as they gulped down bottles of local-made alcohol. Regular liquor, though available, sold very less. There were snack vendors on one side of the hall who sold spicy snacks made of a goat's intestines, limbs, tongue, brain and liver. Pungent sneeze inducing odor arising from the vendors' frying pans dominated all others. Swami and Jacob found a corner and sat down on two stones which had a natural arrangement of another flat stone in between them which served as their table.  

There were no waiters. Jacob bought the drinks and two plastic glasses. They poured themselves two large pegs.

"Cheers," they said and put the glasses to their lips.

Two more rounds followed and Swami was back into his form. Like almost every time, the topic was again women. One man who had never married and the other one whose wife had left were discussing ways to deal with women when they get irritating. When they were at the peak of their discussion, suddenly Swami stopped as his eyes were fixed into one direction. Jacob was a little late to realize Swami had stopped speaking and when he did, he turned around to see what stole his attention. A saree-clad dark woman was sweeping the floor. When Jacob noticed clearly, he realized that she indeed was worth all the attention Swami paid to her. 

She was dark and was reasonably tall. She had worn an old saree and looked tired. But, there was a glow on her face that Swami couldn't ignore. Swami had never seen such sex appeal on anyone before. With every movement of the broomstick on the floor, her hips swayed. She had tied a portion of her saree above the regular length which exposed her right leg's shin and left leg's calf muscle. She had worn silver anklets which shined in the low single phase lighting of the public bar. Her bosom, though not clearly visible, looked very promising. 

"What a lady!," said Swami as he continued to ogle at her.

"Yeah man. She is so good," said Jacob.

"Ok, so what else, when is the next cricket series?" added Jacob.

"I don't know. This woman is amazing man," said Swami.

"Yeah she is. But, she is a sweeper in a wine shop cum bar, leave her. Let's talk something else." said Jacob.

"Hmm. But I think I love her," said Swami.

"What rubbish. Let's finish this drink and head home," said Jacob.

"I am not going anywhere. I will speak to her," said Swami who seemed to be out of his senses half because of the whiskey and half because of the lady at the bar.

"Look at her man. Whoa...she is so sexy." said the thirty-seven-year-old loser.

"What will you do? Marry her?," asked Jacob

"If she agrees, I will. Right now" said Swami.

"All I can say is that you are drunk completely. Let's go home" said Jacob.

"Fuck off. I am not going anywhere. I am here to stay and I will speak to her now." said Swami. 

With these words, Jacob sensed imminent danger and knew that getting beaten up in a cheap unisex bar for eve-teasing is more insulting than anything else. And all this, at the age of thirty-seven. 

Before he could say anything, Swami was gone. He was about seven feet away from the woman and was about to make the mistake in a couple of seconds, a man wearing an old man wearing a white dhoti and banian  appeared out of nowhere and said, "Pushpa, O Pushpa, sahib is calling you."

At once, she dropped her broomstick and ran towards the bar counter. Swami followed her. The Sahib was the owner of the wine shop. He said, "Go to the first floor, it is in a mess. Clean it up fast."

"Ok. Sahib" she said and rushed to the first floor.

Swami returned to their place where Jacob waited in anxiety.

"What the fuck? where did you go? You will get us beaten up," he said. 

"No. I can handle this. Don't worry." he said and in a very rare move, bought another half a bottle of whiskey. 

He looked around for a long time. But, she didn't appear again. Swami wanted to go to the first floor. But, Jacob convinced him to stay. 

Swami and Jacob continued with the drinks and at about 11.45, with both of them about eight pegs down, a discussion on Indian Political System began. But, subconsciously, Swami was still searching for his new found sweetheart.

"Do you know who takes all the money in this entire corruption network?', asked Swami as if he was the chief of Anti-Corruption Bureau. 

"You have no clue," he smirked.

As Swami looked up to answer his own question, he heard a voice.

"Sir, the bar is closing in 5 minutes, also I have to clean up this place. You have to leave now," said Pushpa, the glamorous sweeper.

Swami kept looking at her as he struggled to sit upright and involuntarily, he swayed like a flower in a wind.

"Quick. You have to leave now," she ordered.

From corruption in Indian Politics, Swami was back to where he belonged.

"Ok. Ok. We are leaving," he said and picked up his glass to finish it in one go.

They were the last customers to leave the bar. On their way back, Swami only thought of Pushpa. 

The next morning, Swami woke up at 11.00 am. At 11.30, he was ready after a bath and prayers. At 11.55, he was at the bar, alone. He had determined to make a move to get this woman. As he sat there waiting in anticipation, he was reminded of the day when he angrily hit his wife with a pan on her head and she left him. His father had to catch his in-laws' feet and managed to keep him away from jail. 

He had only three hundred rupees left with him from what Jacob had given him. He probably didn't remember that he bought the last round of drinks last night else he would have regretted it.

He took a beer and sat at the messiest place. The sweeper would come to the messiest place first. he thought.

At about 1.45, Pushpa appeared, and as Swami had expected, she came to the corner where he was sitting first. Swami observed her more carefully. He noticed that she had easily crossed thirty and praised God for making someone as beautiful as her.  He noticed that she  didn't wear any silver toe-rings which meant she was not married. He also wondered how she remained unmarried for this long. As Swami kept looking at her, her phone rang. From inside the folds of her saree at her waist, she took out an old mobile phone and spoke. During the conversation she had under the only light bulb in that corner of the bar, she smiled. And that smile, made her face glow brighter than the bulb above her. She looked like an angel to Swami. This image of Pushpa smiling as she spoke on phone haunted him forever. 

He couldn't gather the courage to say anything. He just kept looking at her. At about 3.00 pm, when only ten rupees were left with him, he decided to return home and scout for someone who could get him back to the bar for the evening session. That day when he reached home, he had lunch and slept only to wake up at 1.00 am and cursed himself. He slept again and woke up at 10.00 am the next morning. 

In the next one week, Swami paid three visits to the bar, alone. 

It was Saturday again and as expected, Jacob arrived at 5 pm. He, as usual, gave Swami Rs.500 for expenses and they headed towards the bar again. They bought whiskey and sat discussing Indian Cricket. Swami looked around but he couldn't find his dream girl. She appeared after an hour and made his day. She wore a green saree and had put flowers in her hair. As usual, she tied her saree a little above her ankles. 

Swami couldn't control his emotions and said, "Jacob, I want this girl. I want her," he asked.

"What will you do with her?" asked Jacob as he downed his fourth peg of the day. 

"See boss, think practically, apart from the fact that we can get beaten up here if we attempt any mischief, I'll remind you that for the last twelve years, you haven't earned a single rupee. All your property is in dispute. You are dependent on the money that you get as rent, that's Rs. 1400/- per month. Your dad takes care of your all other expenses. With this kind of a profile, how will you marry anyone ?"

"Jacob. Shut up. This is the last time you are telling me all this. I agree that currently I have little cash with me. But, I think I can manage it," replied Swami angrily.

"What nonsense. She sweeps the bar and manages to earn more than you do, " replied Jacob with a wry smile on his face.

"And, my property will soon be mine. I think I can pull it off. I also plan to start my business soon," said Swami.

"What business? In the last 12 years, I haven't seen you move a single sheet of paper you lazy ass. Rubbish. Don't give me crap. You are drunk that's it," said Jacob.

"And, if you start a business, will you still ask her to sweep the floor in your office?" said Jacob and laughed out loud. 

"HAHAHAAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH....," he continued.

"You are useless. Just go home and sleep," said Jacob.

Swami stood up. He screamed loudly and gathered attention of the everyone in the bar. In a quick move, he lunged forward and gave Jacob a tight slap. The bar was as calm as it usually is before a storm.  Swami, at the top of his voice said, "Don't you fucking insult me you bastard,", and slapped him again. 

He broke the bottle (quite traditionally) and held a broken piece of the glass by Jacob's neck. 

A brave man from the nearby table rose to his feet and before Swami could do any further damage, he took control of him from behind. As Swami struggled to free himself, he accidentally cut Jacob on his forehead. But, it was a minor cut. Swami was beaten up and police was called. The next day, though Jacob didn't want to complain against Swami, since there were eye witnesses, he was kept in custody. After a week, because Jacob said it was an accident, Swami was given a six month sentence in the central prison. Else, he would have been inside for longer. 

He had a luxurious life at home. But, at the prison he was asked to clean toilets, help in the kitchen and cut wood. These were things which he never imagined he would ever do at home. Hardships in prison had taught him many a lesson in life. After he was released from the prison, Swami had changed. He had given up Gutkha, Alcohol, Smoking and spent most of his time in pursuit of God and religious activities. 

Jacob never came to Swami ever again. Neither did Swami attempt to meet Jacob. Six years passed.

Six years later

One day, Swami's land line phone rang. 

"Swami, this is Jacob here. My father passed away this morning. I wouldn't have called you. But, last night he asked me about you and how you had been. I thought I should inform you," said Jacob in a sad voice.

"I am sorry Jacob. Very sad to hear that. My deepest condolences. You were my only friend and because of my ego and anger I fucked up. You were right Jacob. You were always right. I will be there in 20 minutes," said Swami as tears rolled out of his eyes. 

Swami reached the cemetery and saw many people who he recognized from his childhood. Jacob's sisters, his mother and his uncles. As children, they had all played together. 

They bid a tearful adieu to Jacob Sr. and one by one people walked out of the cemetery wiping their tears. 

When Jacob saw Swami outside, he hugged him and cried uncontrollably. Swami consoled him and said it was the time be brave. Both men had crossed forty and their hair had greyed.

Swami felt someone pulling his trousers. It was a young boy who looked almost five years old. 

"Daddy, where is Grandpa?," he asked Jacob. 

"He has gone away Peter, he will come back when you grow up," replied Jacob 

"Jacob, you got married? Didn't even tell me. Anyway, very smart looking boy," he said and lifted him up in his arms.

"What's your name?" asked Swami. 

"My name is Peter," he said and smiled.

That smile struck Swami like lightening. It was the same smile that had haunted him for six years. He didn't want to believe what he knew had happened.

"Mummy!," said the young boy as a woman approached Jacob. It was Pushpa. 

- Deepak Karamungikar

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