While, I do not mind his all pervasiveness or his crossing city boundaries, his personal attention to my character building really needs a lot to desire. Here is what is happening in my world.
I had come with a lot of hopes for this conference. Oh, sorry, did I forget to mention that I was here on business and not recuperating from my sad little biking incident? Well now you know. I am carrying about three hundred sets of brochures and CDs and what nots. I go real early to the hall, set up my stall. And guess how many people visit? A dozen. I collect about three cards and hand out 12 brochures.
At the end of this stifling day, interspersed with bad lunches and worse ice – cream (they murdered even plain vanilla ice cream), I pack my bags up. Easily about 50 kilos on each arm, I head out to the Auto Stand. What do I see? Nothing. Well, with 100 kilos hanging on your arms, nothing is not a welcome sight. I let them down and wait. Finally, conveyance. Bring it down to the hotel and have some sad dinner. My wrists all swollen. I had forgotten that common sense tells you not to overload tendons after eighty kilos have landed on them rather hard. Well, now I seem to have done it. Definitely need to get it X rayed back home.
Today. Going by the past trend, I carry only a small amount of brochures. Reach early again and sadly it’s the same story. Not too many ENTs interested in Cochlear Implants in
A day spent vacuously staring at the stall opposite; chit chatting with the med-reps next stall. There is nothing remotely interesting on display. Even the competition seems to have given this conference a miss. Bad lunch, but surprisingly decent dessert this time round, Ras-Malai. A few calls and then it’s time to pack-up. Wanted to go to the courier company and send all the brochures back. Would have been mighty difficult to carry all of that back with my broken arm. Guess what happens? I lose my wallet at the conference. I do not notice till I get to the hotel. Rush back and it’s not there. I call in advance to ask a couple of acquaintances to look for it and keep it safe in case it’s there. It is not. What could I expect? It was not the cash that mattered, neither the train ticket back. It was all my plastic. These little one inch by two inches rectangular pieces of my financial liquidity were all in there. I do not have a single pai now. Thankfully, the hotel I paid in advance. All my ID was in there. I come back to the hotel, hoping against hope that I must have packed it in my bag, even though I clearly remember not doing anything of this sort. It’s not there.
With a heavy heart, I get to the reception and ask him to get me the number of the nearest Police station so I can get a letter to cancel all my cards and get my DL back.
Here is the conversation I have.
Voice of police: “Hello, Havaldar Jadhav speaking, rajawadi police station”
Me: “Hello, I am Vidyabhushan, I have lost my wallet at the Mentcon 07 at DY Patil hospital at Kadamwadi. Can I come down and get a letter to get my cards cancelled?”
VoP: “Speak to sir please”
Sir: “ Yes, what is it?”
Me: “Have lost my wallet, can you help me?”
Sir: “Where? At Kadamwadi? Please report to Sahapuri Police Station”
Me: “But, I don’t have any money, how do I get there?”
Sir: “Call them and ask!!!”
Me: “Sir, but please, apply some common sense, I am a stranger here, no cash and you expect me to go to a police station 5Km away? Sir, how?”
Sir: Bzz Bzz (that was not him, it was just that he hung up on me.
Went back to the reception. Asked him if there was a bar in the hotel. Yes there was. Went and had a stiff one. Feeling a little more in control, went to the reception told them the case and asked them for a loan of 500 rupees to get to the station and back.
Made it to the Shahapuri Police station. What I went through there, is not really publishable. Want to put it all behind me. The constabulary wanted me to go to a magistrate and get an affidavit before they would even enter this on their books, like the magistrate is God who will turn all statements true. I still do not understand how me making a statement in front of a magistrate would change anything? As if I would lie to the police, the guardians of the law and order and not to the magistrate, who to me is just a bureaucrat. By this time Mom had called all her connections in the higher ups of police and they were trying to call me on the phone. I spoke to the senior person there and he was understanding and got the constable to record my report and give me the letter.
I thanked uncle who was calling me and got back to the grumbling constable who took down my application in Marathi. Not one of my best written languages. I somehow got it done and got the letter, and then the ass has the gall to ask me for Baksheesh. I imploded. What part of “I HAVE LOST MY WALLET, MY CASH AND ALL CARDS?” do you ass not understand? I just stood and stared. He stared back, I sat down and started calling the uncle, I was noting down his badge name and asking him his number. I told him very casually, “Bloody fool, till now I’ve been decent. Now lets have it out, you and me.” Against the ACB. By then the senior came out and told me. “Sir, Let it be. I got it done na, please let it go.” He had heard uncle calling on the phone, so knew who I was speaking about.
So, I calmed down, in a very controlled voice, told him in chaste hindi (somehow I speak kind of chaste hindi when I am really stressed) “I have lost all that I carry. You still ask me for a bribe, what kind of a buffoon are you? Then I stormed out.
Back at the hotel. Tapping away at the laptop. Need another stiff one and then I’ll turn in. Dad has arranged for his friend to give me money to get back. Been to the railway station and gotten my ticketing done too. Got a few customers here who can help me out in case I need anything. But right now I only need God to forget about me for a while.
With you, never wanted to cross swords!
You are the best and will always be,
Now can you just let me be?
Vibhu.
No comments:
Post a Comment