Busybody

I sat at chai gate, early morning(around 11 oclock that is) still in the hangover of yesterday, smoking a cigarette, and staring at the bluish white smoke that looked as if I was setting it free and contemplating why that one-eyed man at chai gate was so nice for a change today. Some seniors(who seemed to have fallen in love with this place and vowed they would never leave here) sat opposite me. And the one eyed man sat next to me, just outside the gate, dressed typically gujju with a bright blue t-shirt which read "Desyre", tight pants which made me think his legs were imprisoned and hair combed to resemble the traffic outside, Dyed orange here and there as if some bollywood director would offer him the role of the cooling glass wearing hero in his next movie.
There was something different in him today. The guy who usually could not relent to the beurguoise concept of sending someone to get you cigarettes, asked me in a soft tone,"Bhaiyya Cigarette vigarette chahiye?" He politely took four bucks from me and came back soon with a cigarette and a cup of tea. As I sipped the cigarette and smoked the tea(maybe it should have been the other way round), this guy was running from one end of the gate to the other restlessly, as if someone had told him that if he didn't perform his dharma of serving tea, the gods would come down on earth and bash up his face to resemble a tea cup. Then he started clunging on to the gate in different postures, just like Naomi Campbell posing for a Victoria's secret promotional video. In a split of a second he was gone. Just as the thought of finding something else that was amusing to stare at came to my head, the guy came back, this time with a plastic cup. And called out for the senior and politely asked him if he wanted tea. He answered in the negative, just looking at a dozen cups around him as if he was checking if his quota was over. But Mr. Busybody would not give up. "Arrey, Chai peena yaar. Is baar maine achhe cup mein leke aaya hun." Again a negative answer and a look at the used cups. Busybody pleaded, bugged and almost told about his fear for the gods. And then one of them got up and said"Tu yahan se jaa, ya fir main chai gira dunga." Busybody looked back pleading for sympathy. "Abe subah subah dimaag mat kharaab kar yaar." The senior retorted. Busybody had enough and turned to me."Tere ko chahiye?"I looked somewhere else as if I didnt hear.
The poor guy came and sat next to me, but outside the gate silently sipping the tea. After approximately 12.5 seconds of thought I turned to him and asked "Tera naam kya hain?" He beamed and said something undecipherable. Then yesterday's grass told me it was "Pyaare laash". "Oh nice name."I said laughing inside at how technically complex the relation between his name and himself was. And that made Busybody's day. He tried to start a conversation. "Andar Ganesh aa gaya?" As I wondered which kaka in the workshop was named Ganesh, he said he was talking about the idol for Ganesh Chathurthi. "Ganesh chathurthi ko andar main hi dhol bajaatha hun. Kaam bhi karta hun, dhol bhi bajaata hun." Trying to impress me with his musical brilliance which to him was the only rival for Himesh Reshammiya. I nodded. Pulling myself out of the conversation I sat back and thought about why people try being nice once in a while. And I knew I would end up with something that Mathew or Madhusutan said. He is not him and I am not me. I have been constructed by everyone and everything. So is he and that leaves out the possibility of trying to be someone. Either you are or you are not.And what you try to be is usually contradictory to what people think about you. This fails you. And now what I am trying to say...There is no point trying to construct or determine the way our life is going to go. Its beyond our control. A dozen other factors determine it that are miles out of reach. And I guess the best way would be to let life walk its way, and we can sit back over a mug of beer and enjoy the jouisance of having that bottle in our hand.