Musings, Music & More

Post Palsana

This summer has not been kind to us, I mean, to be honest, very harsh, the kind we have never experienced before. Of-course we complain nearly every summer that we cross, don’t we? But this time it is oppressive and we are still in April. At this rate we all will evaporate in May, Jeez! Lord, have mercy on us. 

All I can do to fight the unwelcome summer is to stay put in the apartment, that is, after I finish my ritual of morning walk. 

But last night, I couldn’t resist the temptation to watch an interesting match of IPL and sleep deserted me for a few hours after that.

So… got up later than usual, inevitable! The perfectly crafted pair of running shoes gifted to me by my U.S. – settled daughter beckoned me lovingly. I was out in the crisp morning air.

‘Hey Rajenbhai, out for a morning walk?’ the sight of the gossip-monger Harishbhai of Palsana would normally be enough to call off the morning walk. But some residual etiquette I inherited from my parents came to my rescue.

“Oh well, yes.’ I summoned my reserve of patience, and shot back, ‘wow! what made you to take up morning walk, bhai?’ The word ‘bhai’ was spoken with unnecessary, avoidable tinge of anger.

Harishbhai, wearing his new walking shoes without socks, came up close to me, ‘Oh these doctors! Would they just prescribe medicines like good old days? No. ‘, he removed his thick spectacle, took a deep breath, “they love torturing noble souls like me. Mimicking the doctor’s advice ‘Go and start taking morning walks now on”

I had to raise my eye brows to express surprise.

“And the wife picked up from where the doctor had left, made me wake up at some uncivilized hour and ordered me to …”

‘… to for a walk’ I finished the sentence as Harish had a bout of cough, I wanted to seize the moment to turn in a direction that was opposite to his. Somehow, get rid of the gentleman, quick!

“Oh no, why? Come this way. We will go and have some fried stuff at the popular ‘Jai Ambe’ farsan.”

I was aghast at the suggestion. The oily stuff, to be downed with hot, sugary tea was not my cup of tea – pun unintended. 

Mustering whatever arguments I could recall, ‘No, Harishbhai, it would be bad for my sugar and all that oil…’

“Rajenbhai,’ he commanded like a Brigadier, ‘you are coming with me – give me some company, will you. Surely you don’t have to be so fastidious, man’

He put his arm around me and literally dragged me to Jai Ambe Farsan.

So, the sugar issue went for a toss. God’s wish it was – Hari…sh Ichchha.