Stranger in the Irani

A long time ago, in the eighties, I happened to live in the Malakpet area. But not for so long for people to recognize me and wish me almost twenty years later. That’s what happened when I was in Hotel Niagara at Chaderghat one fine morning sometime last week. I thought it was someone I knew who wished me but it turned out to be a strange but not unusual experience for me.

Saturday morning I was in Malakpet to attend a conference which turned out to be terribly boring. I left midway and stopped at Niagara for a cup of Irani chai. Maybe it was the Elmore Leonard book (Stick) that I was reading or maybe something I picked up from my cop friend but I knew what the white haired, shabbily dressed stranger who wished me as he passed my table, was up to. He had spotted me long before I noticed him.

Sure enough, he appeared before me again. I was engrossed in the book. There’s something about Elmore Leonard’s books that makes me feel very sorry- sorry for a lot of things- for not being able to write snappy dialogue like him, sorry for not being able to think up the kind of stories he does, sorry, sorry… Then when the stranger sat on the chair before me I knew what was coming. Perhaps his shabby dress gave him away but I wasn’t very startled when he extended his left on the table bringing his fist for my inspection. He uncurled his fingers to reveal a few coins. When I looked at him he asked me for five rupees because he wanted to have lunch. Only five rupees. He made a gesture of putting food in his mouth with his other hand.

I wasn’t exactly in a generous mood that morning though I was reading a book by one of my favorite writers, Elmore Leonard, had a plateful of chota samosas in front of me and a cup of hot Irani chai was on its way. I had walked out half way through an official conference, the sun wasn’t out and it was a long ride back to office. Then pay day was a long way off. But he had got me at a wrong time. No Hyderabadi sitting in an Irani restaurant and shoveling chota samosas into his mouth can afford to be not generous. On top of it, I work for the Government (our motto: we serve all). He looked at me longingly.

I did not know if he’d have lunch with it or a drink but I hoped it was something for his stomach as I gave him a tenner and gestured him to buzz off. I needn’t because he was gone even before I had shut my wallet. It wasn't exactly a smart thing to do, but then we Hyderabadis are like that.