This gentleman was my friend in college days and I owe him for reading some of the French classics(English translation) of literature. For he stole them whenever he went to his brother in law’s house which was about 4 hours distance from our place. He stole these books from the local library when the librarian was not keen or otherwise assiduous. Also he stole spoons and forks from big hotels and to my knowledge, was not caught for that. In fact he had no need of stealing those things because he was an affluent guy unlike most of us and it was a part of certain ideas connected with geste or adventure or uniqueness he might have possessed then in his youth. Or was it kleptomania- I am not sure in this regard, because I practically lost touch with him during the rest of my life. He married a rich man’s only daughter in our own town, unlike us who mostly married out of love,except one or two gentlemen who never married and preferred a bachelor’s free existence. Some may assume that my friend P. was a bad guy. Not at all.A good friend, frisky and very intelligent, and I sincerely hope that he has got rid of that bad proclivity in life quite early, as I see from other reports that he soared to a high position in the corporate ladder. I had only met him once or twice after leaving college and our discussions were something else. Some attitudes in life, certain predicaments etc. He was almost of my age, may be a few months older, and studied in the same college but pursued a different stream … I perused Camus’s ‘Plague’ in this fashion,from his pack of purloined volumes. There was no good book stall in our small borough and almost all the stores sold books in regional tongues . The solitary bookstall that sold English books did not have a good selection, because people who bought such books were rare.Sometimes we had to go to the private library of a few teachers who read serious books and I am happy to say that I still have contact with a couple of them and intend to visit their places in the coming vacation with a young friend of mine.I know that they are in old age, and you know time goes fast without waiting for our good bournes. One of them told me a few years ago that the best quote about old age is not of Benjamin Disraeli, or something like ,Old age is regret or similar to that stuff- But this one- ‘Old age is unnecessary’. In fact, I do not know if that quote is from any writer or his own creation. Once I told this to my mother’s friend when she was in frail nick in her old age and she told me that it is very befitting, at least in her case… My friend was 6 feet 2 inches, very fair with a lot of hair on his face, that gave him an unusually manly look. Sometimes I felt like a dwarf in front of him , as I was called lightweight or Tom Thump by many. He had an imposing appearance and girls liked to talk to him and he was likewise amenable in this regard. During our last year in the degree course, we chose Mr. P. as a contestant for the Union Chairmanship because of his audacity and talent.We formed a group with some mottos and all these we did for jest knowing fully well that our candidate will fail. A humourous notice was drafted by one of our friends and was circulated. Our candidate failed but the one who wrote the notice was to fetch Asian Book award for best literary fiction later in life. There was an instance which P. narrated to me once, after we became friends through another good fellow who introduced him first to me .In his household, there was a smart young lady who used to assist in the kitchen and wash clothes.In a vacation, during the holidays for the preparation of the final examinations, while my friend was studying, this lady washed his clothes and ironed them regularly . In gratitude, he purchased a sari for her and gave in private. .This was later known in the family circles and his mother scolded him and asked him.. ‘Did you give ‘pudava’ to her?’. Giving ‘Pudava'(dress of a woman) to a lady was an old custom, now not in vogue, an agreement of sort for the marital ties, legal or illegal in that particular community to which my friend belonged .In the old epoch, this practice was quite prevalent, though after generations, this went away. My friend was quite innocent about all these matters and so was subjected to the rank of a laughing stock. About his family- He had two sisters, one younger to him and one elder to him and both were intellectuals. He belonged to a family of writers and his uncle,brother in law , all were authors of renown. His father was the most handsome old man I had ever seen in my life. And I saw him only once in the railway station when his family and we friends were present to see my friend off when he got a berth in the city. Later I was to learn from him that his father went to Dwaraka in the north western coast of India famous for its historical and religious significance and spent many months there meditating… —(From Fiction in progress)
