Games memory plays.

Some road trips leave a mark on your memory. Forever. One such trip was to Pocharam Dam, an abandoned dam that was built during the British regime. It is about 100 kms form Hyderabad. The earlier day, my friend Durgaram had purchased 2 kgs of fish and had them marinated overnight. In 2005, none of the friends in our circle were comfortable, except Easwar, who had just returned from Germany. He had brought a bottle of wine, of which, we had only heard. The rest of us, filled in petrol in our bikes and had about 5-600 each for expenses. There was Suresh, Easwar, Easwar Babu, Durgaram, Srinivas, Pradeep and Me. Three of our other important friends couldn't make it. 

With a film-roll camera, we set off on our journey on a not so hot day towards the end of July. We stopped for breakfast at a roadside hotel near Medchal. And when done, a friend loaded the roll into the camera and the first picture was taken. Soon after the picture was taken, we realized that the two packs of cigarette and the matchbox were on the table and would be clearly visible in the photograph. Durgaram began to panic as it was his camera. 'Chutiye ho tum log,' he said to everyone. And after a while, he calmed down as we zoomed into serenity in the interiors of Medak district. At about 1.00, we were still a little far away from our destination. We found a roadside dhaba to suit our plan. We gave him about 2 kgs of fish and asked him to fry half of it and make curry out of the rest. We also took 1.5 kg of country chicken and asked it be to cooked. It was a great place with a fenced backyard and chairs. We downed two beers each and at about 2.15, the food was ready. At 2.30, we all started again, towards the dam. At 3.00 pm, we were there.

Hunger was killing all of us. We found a nice place by the lake and opened the wine. The taste sucked. I had never tasted wine before. However, extremely aromatic fish curry and fry made our taste buds orgasm. We spent a lot of time just praising the Dhaba cook. At 4.45, we decided to take a walk around the dam. It was full on one side and water was extremely polluted. But then, we all took turns to get photographed. I remember very well, that there were five of us, who sang the song 'Dil Chahta Hai, Kabhi naa beete...' for four-five times. We had a great time. At 6.30, we decided to return.  On our way back, we were happy to have spent a day enjoying. Food was great, company was greater. Everything rocked.

In 2009, I was going through an album at a Durgaram's place. I found that photograph which we had taken with cigarette packs on table. Luckily, it was hiding behind a glass and only professionals could identify. I laughed and showed it to him. I turned the pages and found that photograph which we had taken near a tall wall near the dam. All seven of us were present. I looked at it and smiled. Those were the days, I thought. All friends now don't even meet once a year. But then, another thought puzzled me.  I very well remember that, while reaching the place, the last human I saw was about 3 kilometers away from the dam. That day, there was absolutely no one in that place, in all the 3-4 hours we spent there. No chance. The question was, who took the photograph? No, there was no self-timer in that camera. It was too ancient for that feature. Then suddenly I asked my friend, who all had gone that day, apart from me and him. Even he ended up naming seven of us. Easwar, who had come from Germany, was with Easwar Babu, I remember this very well because we had named the bike Double Easwar Bike. I remember Srinivas was behind me. I quickly called Suresh and asked him, who was riding pillion with him that day. He didn't remember. Neither did Pradeep. But everyone agreed that they were with someone or the other. So, if there were four bikes, and everyone was riding doubles, then there was some name we were missing out. Also, who took the photograph?

Later, we were informed that the location is very famous for small time thief gangs, robbers and murders. The area is also infested with foxes. Glad we didn't know all this before going.

Today, in 2012, I am in touch with all of them online, except one or two. I have never lost touch with Durgaram. He continues to be my best friend. Every time we meet, we discuss this topic. Who was the eighth friend who had come with us? The photographs have nothing to say. All friends are still damn sure that there was someone with us. They have no doubts. Also, the biggest proof is the photograph. It was taken in such a serene place that there was no question of any humanity whatsoever. 

Memory sometimes cheats you. May be sometimes it also plays games with you; I still remember the four bikes that we traveled on. I also almost remember what clothes everyone wore. I remember what we drank and ate. I remember we had a hard time opening the wine bottle with everyone trying a new technique. I remember the argument with the Dhaba owner over packing the parcels. I also very clearly remember what each of the seven friends spoke. But who was the eighth guy? I and Durgaram are so tired of discussing and guessing that we don’t bother anymore. But the question remains.

- Deepak Karamungikar

(Reconstructed from true events of my life)