LOOKING BACK

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 sweets are at Natthu's shop', somebody would say. He would be there in double- quick time! ' The best 'Chaat' 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 .

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