I’d decided to take on French as my second language. Fortunately a friend of my father knew a French lecturer from Calicut University; he lived at Malaparamba almost twenty kilometers from my house at Poilkav.
I expected to meet an old fellow with grey hair, wearing a Chaplin coat, which was my view of a college lecturer especially a French lecturer who had been in France for quite a long period. To my surprise he wore no shirt at all, covered only by a checked lungi and a loose fitted shoes, he stood upside down on hard cemented floor. He was unbearably philosophical and the only thing that made him French was not his crystal clear French accent but his well groomed French beard.
Madhan sir’s house was at the top of a hill where no vehicle could travel, thank God I didn’t have one otherwise I could have faced parking problems. The path about the hill was not a pleasant one, all sorts of insects roaming around, but the greenish tint around was certainly pleasing.
I was returning to Calicut bus depot, walking along the footpath with an umbrella to shield from the scorching sun. Suddenly, it was drizzling and within minutes the drizzle turned violent and unimaginable .First rain of the season, brings out the aroma of the soil. Mango showers had set in early and it was raining quite heavily. Mango showers are generally accompanied by heavy thunderstorm and lightning, while the wind was almost catching up with Shoaib Akthar.
On crossing a bridge to the bus stand, a stranger approached me. He had a look of an AGMARK keralite wearing a white mundu and creamy shirt coupled with a trademark rubber ‘hawai’. With nobody around the place he was almost pleading to get him to the bus stand under my umbrella. The bus stand was at least a half mile from there. I couldn’t reject him, as and when he got into my umbrella he behaved like the Camel of the Arabian deserts. He came very close to me, pushing and holding me tightly with his right hand.
All of a sudden I remembered about the stories about the thieves in the town ,a week ago my cousin had clued-up about how well dressed young men would get under your umbrella’s during rainy season and steal your valuables.
We were walking over that very deserted bridge, dancing all the way with my left hand on the umbrella and the other on my back trouser, trying to guard my money. Alas, we reached the crowded end of the bridge and a red bus was fast approaching us in the opposite direction. My heart was pumping up and in a moment of madness I pushed the stranger on a muddy pavement ,running all the way to the other side of the bridge, and managed to hold on to a red bus. Looking back through the rear window of the bus I heaved a sigh of relief thinking that I’d outwitted a smart thief.
I heard somebody saying ‘rendu nathapuram’. That was exactly opposite to the place I was heading to.I got down at the next station and managed an auto back to the main bus stand.
The rain was at it’s best bashing everything around, through the glass pane of the closed auto I could see a bleeding man wearing muddy cloth “screeeech” ,the auto man braked his sedan to get an old couple into his auto. For a second, I thought someone spotted me.
Back home an hour later, I couldn’t digest the fact that my cousin had lied to me.
I should have remembered; he was good at making up stories.
