In the early 1980’s, offices of Divisional Inspector (Weights & Measures), Palghat and Chittur, were housed in the same building as that of District Inspector, Palghat - beyond the junction where the Basel Mission School Road met the ‘Kotta Maidanam’-Ottappalam Road. It was an antediluvian, dilapidated building which threatened to tumble down at any moment. Anybody who stood in its front doorway or courtyard could have a panoramic view of what passed over 400 metres abutting on its compound wall. Only five or six rooms in this building were used by the inspectorate. About four of five other suite-sized rooms remained unused at the far end. On joining duty as Divisional Inspector, Palghat, in 1979, I’d sought, and received, permission from Mr. X, District Inspector, to reside in one of these unused large rooms. Mr. X himself resided in a nearby hotel. He’d come to office dapper, debonair and tiptop, as early as 5:30 or 6:00 in the morning. Sometimes he’d go in the middle of the day for ‘in situ’ verification and calibration in liquor manufacturing units. In situ’ means, in the place of origin. Large business houses would willingly pay one-and-a-half times the normal charges, plus expenses (T.A., D.A., etc.) of the Inspector, for this. It would still be cheaper for them. During in situ in liquor manufacturing units, Mr. X would have access to tankfuls of their stuff, so that he’d walk in dapper, but be returned to his room on a stretcher in a state of coma. That is to say, Mr. Xs diurnal would dawn dapper and debonair, and nocturnal would close in coma. Gopalan, the night watchman, would be my companion in the night. I’d often wondered what such a timid, saintly, courteous little man as he could do if somebody were to break into the inspectorate at dead of night. I’d held additional charge of Inspector, Chittur, for some time. This vacancy, in Chittur, however, was soon filled up by Mohanan Pillai, a direct recruit like me. Mohanan was my classmate in college [FMNC], and was a close friend to boot. On taking charge, he too took up residence with me in my room – of course, with Mr. X’s blessings. Soon we received news about one Sankaran Nair who was recruited by KPSC as Manual Assistant, and who was expected to report for duty in a week. My Manual Assistant was Balan, and my Peon was Parameswaran. So we knew that Sankaran Nair would be posted as Manual Assistant, Chittur, under Mohanan. Tidings about Sankaran Nair reached us even before his person could. He was a convicted murderer who’d already finished his term in gaol. It was ‘veni’…and ‘vici’ – without the ‘vidi’ – for him. That is to say, he came…joined duty – and took up residence in OUR room. Gopalan was his unwilling, but timid, valet who’d open the door for him when hed return after his nightly romps. Hed then have to carry out his [Sankaran Nairs] bidding until such time as he too would, like Mr. X, lose himself in semi coma. There was not the faintest shadow of insubordination in Sankaran Nair, however. But I could still sense that he was not entirely happy with my peremptory manners. If only I’d turned and looked the other way at times, he could have made some extra money! An unlikely and unexpected development took place during the following days. I wondered whether Id discerned nascent indications of a sort of unequal camaraderie sprouting up between Balan and Sankaran Nair. The twosome would manage to sneak into some cheap joint for a quick gulp of the ‘local stuff’. In due course these sneakings became more frequent and longer in duration. We learnt from Parameswaran that their tête-á-tête during such drunken sprees would flare up into heated altercations and then culminate in bloody blows. Late one night, Mohanan and I were preparing to go to sleep. I’d just changed into ‘my negligee’ – a pair of pajamas which were some 4” short of the length of my legs, and a black sweater which my father had used for about twenty five years, but which yet was good enough for me even now. Suddenly, unexpectedly, we heard frantic bangs on the front door. They [the bangs] were horrible because accompanied by terrified screams which foreboded flight of the one screaming, from some life-threatening attack. Sankaran Nair was not with us at the time. Gopalan ran and opened the door; and stood shell-shocked. We could just make out in the dim light of the 40 watts bulb, the faint shivering silhouette of Balan, his shirt all in tatters and soaked in blood. His head was swollen as though it had been clubbed all over with something heavy; and his eyes bulged out so with terror that they appeared as if threatening to vacate their sockets at any moment. The world seemed to crumble down upon us as Balan, all incoherence, mumbled and screamed : what had started as a friendly party, he managed to tell us, developed into a bloody bout of blows between Sankaran Nair and Mr. X. The fisticuffs had ended in Sankaran Nair stabbing Mr. X. We questioned Balan in horror, and could just gather that Mr. X had joined their party within about 15 minutes of its commencement. What was even more frightening was that, Sankaran Nair was at that very moment coming in search for me – to wreak vengeance for my blunt and imperial methods with him. Of course, I knew that I was strong and could very well defend myself. But this fellow was a convicted murderer; a mad rowdy; and he was having a dagger! We suddenly became very frightened, and fled – without even waiting to change our clothes. Nothing seemed amiss in the neighbourhood where Mr. X resided, even in the hotel per se : everything was calm, serene, there. We knocked at his door, frantically, yet discreetly, so as not to raise any unwanted alarm. But there was no response inside the room. We dared not go to the police, for obvious reasons : our buffoon-like dress; our residence in the inspectorate itself…and so on. That night, spent in a cheap hotel room, was absolutely miserable. We wished to be back in our room, somehow, as early as possible in the morning. Walking on the town road in our comedic dress was bound to be very embarrassing, we knew. At the same time we were afraid too - of getting trapped with Sankaran Nair in our room, if wed reached it before somebody else also were near at hand to help, if help became necessary. By the time wed reached Basel Mission School we were very uneasy and became extremely cautious and stealthy. Wed noticed from afar that Sankaran Nair was standing in his wonted spot under the mango tree in the front of the inspectorate, and cleaning his teeth with mango leaf stalk. We were afraid to enter the compound through the open gateway in the front and go into the building by walking the pathway and passing him. So we skirted the compound wall from the outside, and were trying to find a convenient spot where we could clamber over it. But, as surely as the weather cock would rotate on its axis according as the wind blew, so Sankaran Nair stood his ground and rotated from there according as we skirted the wall from this end to that, or from that end to this. What puzzled us all this while was, he appeared as though he were astonished at what we were doing, and was not even attempting to charge at us. And our puzzled looks, and our clumsy efforts to clamber over the wall when the whole gateway lay wide open, made him gape at us with even more astonishment and puzzlement. When we had somehow managed to put on some decent clothes, we found ourselves trapped within our room, with Sankaran Nair standing on the threshold, thus blocking our exit. “Where were you yesternight, Sirs?” he asked. “Uh? We?” I stammered with obvious discomfort. “Why, where were you?” “I? Why, I was here. He looked intrigued at my question. I came a little later than usual. You were not here. And Gopalan wouldn’t even come....” “What? Did you fight during your party? I interrupted him, mustering sufficient courage to get to the crux of the matter. “Oh, that! So Balan has already flashed the news to you, eh? Yes, I did suck the life out of that bloody, hijada, namby-pamby bum. I’m senior, Sir. Thirteen years. And that dirty @*#!*! Hed had the nerve to tell me I’m junior! Thirteen years, Sir – plus one month here – fourteen years all together. Sirs; thirteen in Central Jail ! The best in the country !!! Hed now know whos senior and boss, and who junior. “Who?” Mohanan stammered. “Why, ME, Sir; Balan is junior, for sure. I’ve kicked his dirty bum out of his stinking arse. He’d never act smart with me again.” And our District Inspector? I was beginning to see some light at the end of the tunnel. Why, Mr. X? That Nani Radha dandy? I dont know. That nincompoop fop! Why should I? For the first time since the previous night we guessed that the blood on Balan’s shirt could be mere curry or liquor or some other, stains which got stuck on his shirt during their fight. Mr. X arrived, a little later than usual - dapper, debonair and tip-top as always in the morning. We barged into his room without waiting for ceremony and wished him in a voice more abrupt and staccato than at other times, “Good morning, Sir.” “Good morning. Why, you look and sound different, both of you. Whats the matter?” “We’d knocked at your door, Sir, yesternight, 9:45,” I ventured to broach our subject. “You knocked? At my door? No! Not possible. I was inside throughout the night. Did not go out even for food. Very heavy work, you know...the whole day. In situ. In XYZ Breweries.” We understood : the ‘heavy work’ . We shifted residence that very same day. Never after that have we, Mohanan and I, resided in any Government office. Even as I write this now, with utmost regret, I hope I would receive forgiveness for my youthful indiscretions. Balan tried to give us the slip during many days thereafter. The manner in which he behaved, until such time as the whole matter became the subject of jokes, was strikingly similar to those of the characters in the links shown below. youtube/watch?v=U5vMqYYAaNc youtube/watch?v=RXBOsUx43MU https://google.co.in/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CCUQtwIwAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fyoutube%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DmP6O1V2I9_k&ei=d-kbVNzAJsaiugTutoHgBA&usg=AFQjCNEudgorPmEGIE9yxX63QyJ57AS75Q&bvm=bv.75774317,d.c2E
Posted on: Sat, 20 Sep 2014 17:38:33 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015