LOOKING BACK

He punched the man standing before
him.The punch landed square on the
nose! I shuddered.

In my childhood I had read a nursery
rhyme which highlighted the qualities
of a boy ! Here it is :

" What are boys made
of ?
Snips & snails & puppy
dogs tails !
And what are the girls
made of ?
Sugar & spice & all things
nice ! "

while I was thus recalling the poem
he hit the man a second time
reaffirming the veracity of the poet's
assessment of a boy. And the man
started bleeding from the nose. There
was no 'sugar and spice' in this
situation !

And then he proceeded to beat up
the defenceless man so thoroughly
that the man collapsed on the floor.
Nobody came to the aid of the victim
though the place was full of people. I
was a mute witness of this act of
violence. I just stood there.

The unfortunate recepient of all these
blows was not an enemy. He was
not even a bad person. And yet
people who witnessed this act of
violence cheered him and there was
heavy clapping as the victim
collapsed on the ground.

I was watching a boxing bout !! He
was the champion boxer. He raised
his hand-in-red-gloves in a victory
salute. And smiled.

That was my first encounter with the
man named A.N.U. (as I would prefer
to call him here). That was in the
university days, way back in time. I
had just joined as an under graduate
and he had been there for many
years, punching noses, dancing in
the boxing rink.
Boxing was his passion in those
days. Nothing else mattered, not
even studies. He was a man of guts
and action. There was a hostel in the
university precisely for such men -
H&H Hostel, and he lived there. And I
believe his days in H&H were his
most cherished ones.

He was not my type. He was a man
of physical action. I shunned
violence even in sports, even in
thoughts.And yet what bonded me to
him was his disarming frankness and
indulgent smile. He was an open
book and he remained so all his life ,
through his struggles.

He was a man with dreams and
wished to live his dreams, to live his
life king size. He did not achieve
material success so necessary in life
to live such dreams. He had got a
teacher's job in a school and it was
then, years after the university days
that we met for the second time.

He had now left his boxing days
behind. He had become a food
junkie.He liked good food and lots of
it, and would not mind travelling a
good distance if there was a hearty
meal at the end of the journey ! 'The
best Jalebi is at Natthu's shop',

somebody would say. He would be
there in double- quick time! ' The
best 'Pakodas' are in X in civil lines'

and one would see him gobbling
those next day ! Even earlier, in the
university days, I had occasionally
seen him at Jagati's restaurant on
university road but that was for a
different reason.You cannot blame a
person wasting money on an
occasional visit to a restaurent for a
dinner if you have yourself suffered
the hostel food.

He was an active man and kept
himself trim through middle age. His
school hours were early in the
morning and he preferred to cover,
part of the distance, on foot. So he
got down from the bus two stops
before the school's stop and jogged
rest of the distance to his school
much to the amusement of students
and the teaching staff !

"Is there anything wromg in this ?",
he asked me one day.

" It is a bit unusual thing to do. But if
you are comfortable with it, it is
okay. "

Later in life I came across him a
third and final time in another town
where I had settled down . He was
now ageing fast and it was taking toll
of his body. But he continued to
maintain his jest for life - and for his
desire for good things. He would still
pick up the best shoes at S C
Sharma's in connaught place - of
course in sales at a heavy discount

;
he would get the more expensive
sunglasses at BonTon's in a bargain

and decent jackets in 'sales' at
Raymonds. He was, as it were, living
his dream vicariously , on a shoe
string budget.

And then I lost touch with him during
his final years. Neither he nor myself
were, in those days, internet savvy.
we completely lost touch with each
other.

I still remember him and I do miss
him. I miss his infectious enthusiasm
for small thing he wished to possess.
It reminded me of a child who
becomes happy when he manages to
get his favourite toy . He lived life to
the hilt in his own way. And he never
harmed anyone - except, in a way, in
those university days boxing
matches !!