9/11 was far, far away

[FONT=&quot]Well, 9/11 was far, far away. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Yet he had a loaded gun aimed straight at my chest and I stood at point blank range. My right hand still gripped the rear door of the white sedan from which I had emerged. Scared and speechless, I shifted my gaze helplessly from the gun to the open trunk of the car. Sudip stood there as a number of oversized strangers rummaged around it with powerful flash lights. The ice cold wind howled, penetrating deep into my skin. I shivered craving for the interior of the heated car from which I knew now that I shouldn't have stepped out. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

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[/FONT][FONT=&quot]It was an early evening in Rochester NY , somewhere in the middle of a long dreary winter, an evening lost far away in the mysterious past. It had snowed most of the day, presenting a depressing landscape from the apartment window, an apartment occupied by three poor graduate students, including yours truly. We were moaning and groaning, missing sunny India , whose gruelling summers we used to complain about even the other day! [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]And then, with the approach of evening, it had suddenly stopped snowing. The pristine whiteness of the snow was soon transformed into mud and slush by the passing vehicles. Yet youthful exuberance can hardly be held on leash. The brighter side of life began to take charge, the youngsters gearing up for exciting adventures. We were transformed without notice, by the magic wand of youth, into boundlessly energetic beings ready to invade Cleopatra's bedroom! Well, perhaps not exactly that adventurous, but quite certainly John Masefield whispered into our ears:[/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]"Quinquereme of Nineveh from distant Ophir[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine ,[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]With a cargo of ivory[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]And apes and peacocks,[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Sandalwood, cedar wood, and sweet white wine.[/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Dipping through the tropics by the palm-green shores,[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]With a cargo of diamonds,[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Emeralds, amethysts,[/FONT][FONT=&quot]
[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores...." [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Despite the dismal scenery outside therefore, our spirits soared. But we hardly possessed the means to support the surge we felt in our hearts. So we settled for the forty fifth best alternative. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]"Hey, let's go for a movie," said one excited voice in the room. "The ravishing so and so is quite a rage and the movie's been running for over a fortnight! Quick march men, left, right, left ..."[/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]The others looked unsure for a while, but it didn't take too long to convince them. People from adjacent apartments joined the gang too and we slogged through the piles of accumulated snow on our way to the parking lot. Only one of us had a used car, a dirty white Ford Falcon, picked up from an old car dealer whose shop bore an uncanny resemblance to a junk yard. It was a throwaway price, needless to say. But then, it was a bargain, for the car even moved sometimes. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Six of us, or was it seven (?), clad in our worn sweaters, coats and overshoes crammed into the old creaking car. The battery was near dead of course and needed a good deal of coaxing for the engine to start sputtering. But the good old car finally started and even began to roll on its wheels. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Traffic was slow and the occupants of the car were not too familiar with the streets, streets partly buried under snow and transformed beyond recognition by the relentless fury of nature through the day. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Nonetheless, we found our way to the downtown area. It was no pretty sight that greeted us there. The wind was still screaming and the snow flakes that stuck to the wind shield soon turned into hardened ice. The wind shield wiper stopped moving and visibility was reduced to near zero. Passing car tires left ugly dark trails on the snow and few pedestrians were around, except for the pathetic street-hookers with painted faces waiting in shady corners for chance customers. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]And of course, we lost our way, not knowing which turn, amongst the ones that were visible, to take to reach the theatre where the damsel of our dreams awaited our arrival. No, we had no idea where the theatre stood as we skidded through the icy road like Columbus in search of India . Like the same Columbus , we landed somewhere else as we soon realized. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]It was Bala I think, who suggested at the intersection where we stood under the red light, that we needed to turn right. As soon as red changed to green, Sudip released the clutch, pressing softly on the accelerator and we slowly began to swing rightwards as suggested. Thanks to the frozen windows, he missed completely, along with the rest of us, the "NO RIGHT TURN" signal at the corner! [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]We had travelled a few yards at most, when a fleet of sleek, shiny black cars appeared from nowhere it seemed and surrounded us on three sides forcing us to pull up against the kerb. We had no idea at all what was afoot and my heart began to thump, somewhat violently I need to admit. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]The cars spilled out what literally appeared to be an army of people, the smallest of whom was about the size of Mike Tyson. They surrounded our car and knocked on the driver's window with unfriendly expressions writ clearly on each face, or whatever appeared to be faces through the frosty glass panes. We had no choice but to pull down the window. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]"License and registration please," one of them said in a voice that was far from pleasing. All of us were shivering by now, partly on account of the cold, but more so at the Tyson looks. Whites as well as blacks and believe me friends, the white Tysons were far more fear inspiring than their coloured counterparts. None of them wore police uniform and this made the situation even more uncomfortable. However, police or not, we lacked the courage to refuse what we were being asked for. Little pot bellied Indians are no match for giant Americans. Sudip produced the documents without protest and we watched the show silently. Well not silently really, my teeth were chattering as they did once again many years later while watching the Exorcist. Yes, I admit once again, I am scared of ghosts as well as giants. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Documents verified, they asked him with polite firmness to step out of the junk pile on wheels and open the trunk. Sudip, like the rest of us, was only to ready to comply. He alighted and did as he was asked to, with the rest of us waiting inside the car, like rabbits chased into their burrows by an unfriendly dog. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]"Is this what's known as a holdup?" someone whispered. No one had an answer, wondering whether hold ups required people to display the contents of the trunk. Our experience was limited, never having watched hold ups outside movie theatres. We tried desperately to recall if the hold up guys asked you to open the trunk of your cars. Normally, as far as we could remember, they asked you for your wallet and then went for the jugular. We were already nursing our jaws, having completely forgotten where Sudip had disappeared with the Tyson gang. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Finally, Arup, who was sitting in the middle of the back seat, stammered to me. "Hey, why don't you get out from your side and find out what's going on? Hope they aren't battering his brains out." [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]I wasn't too sure if that was a good idea, but leaving Sudip to face the music on his own didn't sound like philanthropy either. So, I obeyed and as soon as I stepped outside, I faced the muzzle of a gun for the first, and hopefully the last, time in my life. The message was silent as well as loud as well as clear beyond doubt. "Don't you move one more step!" snarled the man behind the gun. I didn't, trying to figure out if it was a bullet hole in my head that had disabled the muscles controlling my locomotive faculties. If that was the case, I should have felt the pain, but it certainly didn't hurt. I was confused you see. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Petrified though I was, I discovered with dubious comfort that the incident had not disabled my auditory abilities altogether. Indeed, I heard a faint noise from the direction of the car's rear, the area where the trunk is generally located. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]"May I know what this is all about?" I was almost sure that it was no other than Sudip's voice I heard, a voice much transformed of course, and bearing an uncanny resemblance to that of a baby lamb in search of its mother. No one replied and, with quiet resignation, he watched them search the car, their flashlights probing the faces of the remaining occupants in the car as well. Graduate students from the university, all Indians, they found. The scholarships we received were just about adequate to keep our bodies and souls together and buy the necessary raw materials for PhD degrees, viz. books and stationeries. The big guys' faces expressed nothing but contempt. "When did the US government start importing pygmies?" they appeared to ask. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Soon the search was over. Much to our relief, they didn't find the treasures they were hunting for and finally ended up identified themselves. Plainclothes policemen they were, in search of a white Ford Falcon carrying stolen dynamite sticks! Even if we had stolen them, they were no longer on us and we were free to go they told us. But they had information that a car of that description had indeed been used to steal a carton (?) full of dynamite sticks in the recent past! [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]That was the only time in my life I believe, that I sweated in relief as I stood under the open sky, with the temperature hovering around (-) 10 degrees Fahrenheit.[/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]"We can still book you though, you know," said one of the officers. "You violated road rules. You were not supposed to turn right. Didn't you see the sign?" [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Sudip, teeth still chattering, said: "You see, I'm somewhat new to this area … perhaps that's what explains …" [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]"OK, get in and follow us. We'll show you the way," said the man. Not unpleasantly now. All except one of the cars vanished with the velocity of light. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]Before getting into the car though, Sudip came out with the punch line for the driver of the waiting police vehicle. "Can you please show us how to get to this theatre we are looking for?" The stupid-est question a policeman had heard someone facing a firing squad ask. Or ask at least so soon after failing to discover a bullet hole in his person. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]The man couldn't help smiling. We drove sheepishly behind him till a hand jutted out of the car in front, poking the air several times towards the left. And then it drove on straight ahead as we turned left and landed right in front of the theatre. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]I have forgotten the name of the theatre as well as the movie we had gone to watch. Nor do I remember who the actress was that had brought us so close to the crematorium. But I do recall that all tickets had sold out and we had to trace our way back glum faced to our living quarters. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]And of course, we did read about a dynamite explosion in a Government building next morning. There were no casualties though according to the newpapers. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]

[/FONT][FONT=&quot]As I said, 9/11 was far, far away.[/FONT][FONT=&quot]

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@ Sowmya

I have already said in my fb to your post on Vishnu et al that I'm impressed by your use of the English language. I must have interacted with you earlier too, but it took me a while to notice your finesse. Keep writing please. I enjoy reading good English.

Regarding grad students, I guess things have changed substantially since the days I described in my post. In purchasing power terms, they are better paid nowadays. Most of them own cars and visit India quite frequently. This was unthinkable around the the time my post speaks of.

All the best and Happy New Year.

oj

 

@ natpudan

Interesting comment on Sardarjis. I wonder if there are Sardarnis at IL. Btw, the Falcon I described had a hole on the floor and we ofter used it to dispose of empty beer cans!! Kamalji would love to own this car!

oj-da

 

@ Kamalji

Best line I have read in a long time!

Men in search of bombs being charged for possessing them!! Excellent twist my friend.

oj

 

@ k2s

Indeed, the police in India are not merely incompetent, they are rude too. A few months ago, I was trying to locate a movie theatre in Kolkata (not to go and watch a sex bomb, but because there is TV studio next to it where I was supposed to be interviewed!) and I asked a policeman about its location. He replied he was not from that area and had no idea. I wondered why he was patrolling the area then, but refrained from asking. I was not from that area either, but managed to find the theatre finally.

oj