An Off Day

An Off Day - Ravi Srivastava

After thirty years of working in India’s corporate sector, I called it quits and set up a consultancy service in partnership with a former colleague. The new enterprise flourished almost immediately, due to the fact that we had a set of very competent juniors. And so, both of us attended the office on alternate days, giving us plenty of time for leisure as well.

On one of my off days, I decided to visit Ramgarh, a town close to where we lived. Ramgarh was where our family had lived when I was in school and college. Most of my friends back then had drifted away to bigger cities in pursuit of higher education and better careers, but I had heard that a few of them were still living there. I planned to track them down; in any case, I wanted to see my old house, one where I had spent the happy years of my boyhood.

         Ramgarh was only an hour’s journey by train and I took a morning train so that I could be back by evening. The train reached the Ramgarh station on schedule. I was amazed to see the transformation of the area; the small wayside railway station was now a busy junction, with shining platforms (eight of them now), air-conditioned waiting rooms, a Chai stall that now served cappuccino, and the bookstall that used to carry Hindi comics, now had Dan Browns and Atwoods. The change was visible outside the station, too; the man-pulled rickshaws had given place to auto-rickshaws and metered taxis. I engaged one of these and asked the driver to take me to Fort Road, which was the area where we had lived about forty years back. Fort Road itself had changed a lot; from an unpaved muddy track with just a few grocery and vegetable shops along the way, it was now a bustling thoroughfare, with well-lit stores, choc-o-bloc with shoppers. I had to look really carefully to spot the lane which branched off the main road and towards our house. I got off the taxi at the T-point and decided to walk through the lane until I could see our old house.

The lane, fortunately, had not changed much; the old temple, with its tinkling bells and crowding flower vendors, still stood at the corner. Old men could still be seen smoking a hookah leisurely in the verandas outside their houses. After a few minutes, I reached the patch of land where our house had stood. It was still there but I was dismayed to see that the front room where I had my study table had been converted into what seemed like a tailor’s shop. There was even a young tailor working at his sewing machine. The young man, perhaps intrigued by my searching looks, paused and asked,

“Good morning, sir. Are you looking for someone?”

“Well, I was just looking at the house. You see, our family used to live in this house, about forty years ago, and the place where you have your sewing machine is where I had my study table.”

The young tailor got up and shook hands with me.

“Sir, that is wonderful. I will be happy to show you around the house if you are interested. Our family took over this place only a year back, and it has proved to be very lucky for us. My business has prospered here.”

“I am glad to hear that. But, I don’t wish to disturb your work. I actually just want to know if some of my old friends, who also lived here then are still around. They would be around sixty years of age, and perhaps you may not know them.”

I mentioned some names, but he could only place one of them; Mr Din Dayal was still living on this lane in his old house. He ran a coaching school, the tailor said, but he was not sure whether it was the same Din Dayal of my good old days.

How exciting! At least one of my school day friends was still there. I was keen to meet him, talk about our school days, and generally exchange notes about how life had treated us since.

“Can someone take me to his place?” I asked.

The tailor asked one of his assistants to take me to the ‘Scholar Coaching Centre’. The Coaching Centre turned out to be just a few houses away. I thanked the assistant and told him that I would take it from there. The signboard indicated that the Centre was on the first floor. I climbed up the stairs which opened into a small office with a working desk where a clerk was busy making register entries. I asked him if Mr Din Dayal was free, and if I could see him. “Sir, he is taking a class. You can wait here until he is free” he said.

“Thanks, also, can you just tell him that an old friend is here and would like to meet him?”

“Sure, sir.”

He went into the classroom and came back to tell me that his sir would be free in ten minutes. He indicated a row of chairs along the wall and asked me to wait there.

In about ten minutes, Din Dayal came out of the class and entered the office. The clerk indicated to me, and Din Dayal looked at me carefully, trying to place me. Both of us had naturally changed in the intervening forty years; I had lost almost all my hair, and his hair had greyed. Soon enough, he recognised me and exclaimed, “Oh, Arun? How are you? How many years have passed since we last met each other? Good to see you, man. Tell me, what brings you to this poky little town, after having spent all your years in the big cities?”

“Well, I am based in Delhi now, and since Ramgarh is so close, I thought I’d come and see my old friends if they are still here, and spend some time with them.”

There was a pause before he replied.

“Oh certainly, Arun. We will do so. But, you see, my students have their exams next week, and after that, I have to take the next batch which is preparing for the Engineering College admission test. I will be free from these two classes in about a month’s time. If you come around that time, we can surely catch up like you suggest. Won’t it be fun? Do try to come.”

“Oh yes, Din Dayal, I can see that you are busy; I will try to come sometime when you are free and then we will talk to our hearts’ fill.”

With that, I took my leave. I had earmarked the day for reliving the old memories of Ramgarh, but now I didn’t know how to spend the rest of my time. Suddenly it occurred to me that on the way from the railway station, I had noticed a signboard ‘King and Co.’ on a chemist shop. One of the sons of the owner of that shop used to be in our class, Krishan Lal. Although we were not close friends, we used to admire each other; I for his prowess in football and he for my academic achievements. I thought I might as well check if he was at the shop. He might have succeeded his father for all I knew.

I engaged an auto-rickshaw for Railway Road and ventured towards ‘King and Co’. There were a few customers who were being attended to by two salesmen at the counter. I stepped up and asked one of the salesmen.

“Is there a Mr Krishan Lal around? I would like to meet him.”

The salesman looked up and said, “There is no employee by the name of Krishan Lal here. However, our proprietor’s name is Krishan Lal. Do you mean to see him?”

Certainly, I thought, since Krishan Lal was the son of the then owner, he would now be the proprietor.

“Yes, can you tell him that Arun, from his school, is here?

He looked at me with interest and entered a cabin at the back of the shop. In a moment he appeared with an old man, with thick spectacles and greyed hair. I could see my old classmate in him, but he took a little while to place me.

“Oh, you are Arun, aren’t you? What a surprise! What brings you here? I had heard that you were a big shot in the corporate sector.”

“Well, I was. But that is in the past now, I am now settled in Delhi and working on my own. I took an off day and thought I’d meet my old friends and catch up.”

There was a look of slight irritation on his face.

“Yes, that is wonderful to know! But, you see, we are very busy right now because of the prevailing influenza season. Why don’t you come after, let us say, a month? We can then talk at leisure.”

“Oh yes, we will do that. I will come after some time. But I am so happy to see that you are well and keeping busy...”

Before I could finish, he had already turned to a customer who was waiting at the counter.

I stepped down on the road and looked around for an auto-rickshaw to take me to the railway station. It dawned upon me at that moment, that though I had taken a day off, it was not an off day for others.

I reached home in Delhi much before I had planned, and my wife was naturally surprised.

“What happened? You are back so early? Couldn’t you trace any of your old friends over there?” she asked.

“Well, I did trace two of them, but they were too busy. People who say old friendship survives all ups and downs don’t know a thing about how life works; it is making money which comes before everything, even before friendship.”

It was a Sunday two days later. After breakfast, I took the morning papers and settled on the front lawn of our house. I had barely finished the front page when I saw a car coming to a halt at our gate. I looked up and was surprised to see Din Dayal and Krishan Lal stepping out. I rushed to the gate, and we broke into hugs, with broad smiles on our faces.

“You see, Arun. That day when you came to Ramgarh we both had a working day. We had been feeling very bad since then and decided that on Sunday, which is an off day for both of us, we would come to visit you. Hope you are not busy today?”

We all burst into laughter, as I took them inside. I realized that the wise men who had said that old friendships indeed survived all ups and down were not wrong, after all!