I was trying to hail an auto at a busy signal when I received the call I was dreading.
I looked at the screen and considered for a moment, then I put on my Bluetooth earphones and accepted the call. I knew this wasn’t going to be a conversation, it was going to be a podcast.
Before I could say hello, “Did you hear about it?” asked my wife.
“Yes, she messaged me,” I replied.
The previous night we had gone for a dinner at my college friend’s house. Over the years, my wife has become friends with her as well.
I waved at an auto and it ignored me.
“...fight last night…” I heard through my earphones, still focusing on the road.
I hoped my wife was not blaming me. Over the years of marriage I have learnt one thing, whenever things go wrong, almost anything can be traced back to me.
My friend is married to this guy whom we don’t particularly like. My friend doesn’t like her husband either. He is just a jerk we tolerate because we both are fond of her.
I waved at another auto. This one slowed down.
“..beside the point…”
We were sitting in the drawing room where her husband was out trying to force one of the guests to have another drink, despite him saying “No” almost six times. Fearing the next person would be me, I excused myself and went to the kitchen to help my friend.
“What you did...”
The auto stopped in front of me.
“Malad?” I asked. The driver nodded and I climbed in.
“Are you listening?” I heard on the call.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was getting into an auto.”
There was a pause and a sigh on the other end of the line.
“Why do you do these things, I genuinely don’t understand?”
While I was helping my friend, she began unloading the accumulated frustration about her husband. It wasn’t a conversation I was particularly interested in, but I let her blow off some steam. Within a few moments, my wife joined us in the kitchen saying, “I don’t want another drink.” My friend was startled, thinking it was her husband.
“You know the kind of person he is,” I heard over the call.
“Hmm,” I said.
“Hmm? Don’t give these monosyllabic answers? You know this is going to blow up right?” said my wife.
“RIGHT,” I said. Still monosyllabic but I said it with emphasis telling her that I agreed with her.
My friend turned towards me and said, “You stand here facing the door.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Just keep an eye on the door, if he is coming,” then she turned towards my wife, “Don’t stop talking if he comes, or else he will know that we were talking about him,” she looked back towards me, “Start some random conversation if you see him.”
“There is a place to be funny. You should have known better. The guy is insane,” said my wife.
“RIGHT,” I said. And there she goes. This was the lecture I was dreading. I have been in trouble for things coming out of my mouth, but this time it wasn’t my fault. It was just too good an opportunity to lose out on.
“You know what he’s like,” my friend said.
“Yeah,” my wife agreed.
I nodded sympathetically while contributing absolutely nothing.
Just then I saw him walking towards us with the whiskey glass in his hand.
Without missing a beat, I interrupted the conversation, “…So anyway, once I dragged the dead body out of the car, I realised…”
“What dead body?” her husband asked.
He looked at me, then at his wife, then at my wife, then back at me.
Now this is the part which gets my goat. Both the girls burst out laughing.
“…of all the things you could have said,” my wife said on the phone, “…you chose THAT? I would have preferred he heard the actual conversation. Your fixing it made it worse. He thought we were making fun of him.”
“RIGHT,” I said.
“What right? … you seen the size of guy… What if he got violent?” she said.
The thing is, I am a writer. If you ask me to imagine a scenario, I will go wild and come up with the most bizarre scene. I’ll not come up with lame excuses like I am late because there was traffic. I will dream up crazy scenarios that are disassociated with reality precisely because they are fun.
“You should be happy that guy didn’t punch you,” she said.
On that point, I agreed. The guy was drunk and is super ripped. For a second I thought he might take a swing at me.
“You’re lost in your own world. Half the time you only hear bits and pieces of what people are saying. Then your brain disappears into some imaginary universe,” she said.
“RIGHT,” I said.
“At least be aware of whom you are with and what’s happening around you,” she said.
Now that accusation I simply couldn’t accept. My entire profession depends on observing things other people miss. I am the most observant person I know, always dialled into my surroundings.
Just then the auto screeched to a halt. The driver got out, looked at me angrily and said, “Bahar nikalo.” (Step out)
I removed one earbud and stepped out, confused.
“…having a conversation with yourself, without having any idea where you are..” I heard in my right ear.
“One second,” I said on the call.
I asked the auto driver what was the problem.
“RIGHT, RIGHT, bolker char baar right le liya. Jis signal se shuru kiya tha wohi aa gaye wapas, kyu time khoti karte ho? Mujhe Auto dusri shift me dena tha 6 baje,” he said irritatedly. (You keep yelling RIGHT, RIGHT. We’ve come back to the place we started. Why are you wasting my time? I had to return the auto by 6.)
I looked around. We were back at the same spot.
“What happened,” I heard on the call. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, I am fine. I’ll just take half an hour more to reach,” I told my wife.
“But… didn’t you get into an auto long back?”
“I did, but… there is a dead body on the road,” I said and disconnected.
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