Fiction: The Alcoholic

Jitendra Bhatnagar

- Jitendra Bhatnagar

Sudhir entered the Milky Way and headed for the corner table expecting to find Vijay, Iqbal and Ajay – the other three members of the Group of Four or ‘4G’, as they liked to call themselves. They met at the Milky Way at seven every evening and the corner table was their domain for the next couple of hours. Sudhir did not see his friends. Instead, he saw a wizened old man occupying the table, a glass of whisky in front of him. ‘The Milky Way’ was a misnomer. It had nothing to do with milk. It was a bar, though not of a particularly high standard.

Sudhir raised a questioning eyebrow at the bartender who shrugged his helplessness. Sudhir advanced to the corner table and asked, “May I join you, sir?”
“Be my guest.” Said the old man, with an expansive gesture of his hand.

‘The old man has a lot of gumption to make me feel a guest at my own table’, thought Sudhir.
Thanking the old man, he sat down and discreetly sized the man up. A thinning mop of snow-white hair adorned his head. A pair of thick horn-rimmed spectacle sat on his nose. A clean-shaven man, he was dressed in an immaculately tailored pin stripe suit. Sudhir could not see his trousers and shoes but the torso he had observed led him to conclude that those would be equally good. The old man sat with military erectness. He could not be more than sixty, sixty-five at the most, Sudhir thought.

“Were you with the Armed Forces, sir?” Sudhir could not resist asking.

The old man merely smiled in response. It was a mysterious smile. “What can I order for you, son?” He asked.

“Nothing, sir. I will wait for my friends to turn up. Thanks all the same.”

“Do you and your friends come here often?”

“Every evening at seven.”

“Oh! And you occupy this same table every day?”

“Yes sir, I am afraid so.” Replied Sudhir.

“Awfully sorry to have encroached upon your realm, son. I will move to another table.” The old man said and started getting up.

“No, don’t trouble yourself, sir. We will be quite comfortable with you for company, I am sure.”
The other three members of 4G walked in together and were surprised to find their friend in company of an old man. Sudhir introduced his friends. The old man acknowledged them with a nod of his head and a smile. From what the old man divulged about himself, our four friends could gather that he had moved to the neighbourhood recently and led a retired life. He lived alone, enjoyed a drink or two every evening. He hinted that he could be a regular visitor to The Milky Way. The old man did not fail to observe the furtive glances of consternation among his audience.

“Don’t be alarmed, children. I will sit somewhere else and not bother you.” He assured.

“Oh, no, no, sir, no. Please don’t. Your company is welcome.” They lied.

The man merely smiled. That mysterious smile again. The four were intrigued.

In the guise of placing their order, Iqbal rose walked to the bar and asked the bartender, “What is with the old man?”

The bartender again shrugged and said, “I don’t know, sir. Never saw him before. But I can tell you one thing. I have seen many a man drink but not like him. He has been sitting in that corner and drinking since this afternoon.”

“He must be a tank.” Exclaimed Iqbal, placed his order and came back to the table. Their drinks served, Vijay saw the old man’s glass was empty and asked, “What are you drinking, Pops.”
“I will place my own orders, son, thank you. And you can call me Grandpa.”

“Grandpa!!!!” The four exclaimed together. “Surely you are not old enough to be our grandfather.”
“You will be surprised, children.” That mysterious smile again.

Grandpa’s drink arrived. Iqbal casually said, “Grandpa, you should not be drinking so much at your age. It is not good for you, you know.”

Grandpa guffawed. “The bartender must have told you. The sneak.” Growing serious, Grandpa said, “He could be with us today. But he drank himself to death.”

Confused, the four looked at each other. Grandpa seemed to have gone in a trance. The four had to strain their ears to catch what he was muttering.
* * * *

The monsoons have always played havoc in the north Indian plains. But they were particularly severe fifty years ago. Rains would pour for days together turning roads into rivers. One ventured out only if it was absolutely necessary. I was a bachelor then and lived alone in a first-floor room all by myself. Mercifully, the rain had taken a break for a day enabling me to stock enough food to last me a week. It started raining again just as I hit the bed.

Heavy pounding of the door interrupted my beauty sleep. Drowsily I rose rubbing my eyes and opened the door and confronted a raincoat clad figure, a small suitcase in his left hand.

“Yes?” I enquired.

“Don’t you recognise me, bro?” the caller seemed surprised. “I am Raghav, your elder brother’s friend. We met some time ago at your brother’s place in Delhi. Remember?”

“Oh!” I recollected having met a bloke called Raghav at my brother’s place. “Come on in.”

He came in out of the rain and got rid of his raincoat. His face clearly visible, I could recognise him now. He was my brother’s friend Raghav, alright. He told me he was on his way to Dehradun on his bike when the rain overtook him. The raincoat was futile against the downpour and he was soaking wet. Poor visibility made driving difficult forcing him to seek shelter ASAP. Luckily, he recalled that I, his friend’s younger brother lived in the neighbourhood. So here he was. The thought of having to spend the night in company of a comparative stranger was not pleasant but I had no choice. I made makeshift beds on the floor for I, a bachelor, did not have a spare bed.

Raghav did not bother to ask me if he could smoke. He chain-smoked bidis. Soon the room was thick with smoke and the floor littered with bidi ends. I asked him why he smoked so much.

“Because I will drink if I do not smoke.” Raghav replied.

“No. Seriously!” I said incredulously.

“Oh, I mean it. You see, I am an alcoholic.”

The word was new to me. I asked him what was an alcoholic.

There are two kinds of drinkers, my young friend. One, who drink occasionally. They drink moderate amounts of alcohol in company of others. Such people are social drinkers. The other kind keep drinking till they are dead to the world. They crave for more when they are back with the living. It is not their fault. They hate themselves for it when they are in possession of their faculties. They do not drink out of habit. They drink because they have to. They drink because they can’t live without alcohol in their system. They suffer with a disease called, alcoholism. Fortunately, such people constitute a small percentage of society. Unfortunately, I belong to that minority.

It set me thinking. I was still not sure he was not pulling my leg. He had got to be kidding. He assured me he was not and proceeded to tell his tale.
* * * * *

Farmers did not always use pumps for irrigation as they do now, he said. For centuries they had used bullocks till diesel pumps arrived and made bullocks obsolete. I worked for a company marketing diesel pumps. I had a jeep with a diesel pump mounted on it. My job was to go to the villages, meet their pradhans, gather local farmers and demonstrate and promote the product. I was good at it. The bosses were pleased with me and rewarded me with out of turn promotion. I was so happy. Some of my close associates demanded a party and we went pub-hopping. I am from a Brahmin family and had never tasted alcohol in my life. My friends would not take no for an answer and I succumbed to their insistence. My first sip hooked me for life.

It was well past midnight when my friends dropped me home, dead to the world. I was still half dead when I came back to the living world at noon the next day only to find myself lying in my own muck. I had thrown up all over my bed and did not know it. My head was bursting with pain but somehow, I made it to the toilet and cleaned myself as best I could. I was disgusted with myself. How would I face my colleagues in office? What will they think of me? The entire office would be abuzz with my shame. I did not go to office and, like a coward, quietly resumed my touring circuit. It took time to make peace with myself. I convinced myself that it was a momentary weakness and that I was strong enough not to succumb to it again. Little did I know.

It was not long before I was forced to spend a lonely night in a god forsaken town. The hovel of a hotel was a picture of gloom. I thought I would take a drink or two, eat, if I could what the hotel offered and try to sleep.  Before I knew, I had finished a whole bottle and asked for another. I drank and drank and drank.  The next day was a repeat of …... you know what. Only this time I did not feel as bad as I had the first time.

It was not long before I started carrying a bottle in my briefcase. I had to have alcohol in my body all the time or it would not function. Things were not looking good but I was managing. Then came the day when I met the pradhan of a village and asked him to arrange a demo. He gave me a funny look. I asked him what was bugging him.

“You were here only yesterday sahib.” He said.

“Really! You are mistaken. This is the first time I have come to this village.” I responded and returned the look.

The pradhan said he was not mistaken and insisted that I had already demonstrated the product. The pradhan and I were still at it when a young stranger stopped, gave me a surprised look and said, “Aray, Raghav sahib, you again! Did you forget something yesterday?”

This shook me. What shook me even more was that many other people knew me and asked me what I was doing there when I had already visited the previous day. “Was it possible?” I asked myself. “Did I really visit the village a day before? So many people could not be wrong. If I did visit, how could I forget it?” I racked my brain to recollect some happening of the visit. Not a trace! All memories of the previous day were blacked out of my mind. I drove back to my town hotel in a daze and settled down with a bottle of whisky to try and reconstruct the lost day. No go. I could not remember anything. Could I have lost my mind? I was not sure. I tried to continue my work as best as I could. It was obviously not good enough. I was summoned to head office once again. Not for a promotion this time. The boss lecture me about how I had fouled the company’s name by my disgraceful conduct, being drunk all the time. I tried to protest but he had received complaints from hotels where I had created a mess. The boss asked for my resignation and advised me to go to a rehabilitation centre.
Music was my hobby when I was a student. I was rather good at vocal music. I had learnt singing at Bhatkhande which came in handy after my release from rehabilitation centre. I got a job as a music teacher in a public school. I have been off drinks for years now but alcoholism is, and will remain, my problem as long as I live. There is no such thing as a cured alcoholic, my young friend. I cannot, and must not, touch alcohol ever again. If I do, I will go back to being an alcoholic. Are you aware that there is an organisation called ‘Alcoholic Anonymous’? We alcoholics are encouraged to meet and relate our experiences. We strengthen our resolve by shaming ourselves in public. I do hope I remain strong for the remainder of life.
*****

“He left me the next morning,” Grandpa said,” and I did not see him again for a couple of decades. I don’t know how he found me but one evening he came to my house. A bedraggled man in shambles, I was not able to recognise him. He had to introduced himself to be recognised. He came up with a sob story and begged me for a loan of one hundred rupees. I had no choice but to lend him the paltry sum. He was such a pathetic figure.

“The next day’s newspaper carried a story of a man found dead in a road side drain, left hand clutching tightly a bottle of country liquor. From the papers in his pockets he was identified as Raghav.”

Setu, February 2019

Fiction: Judgment Day

Jitendra Bhatnagar

- Jitendra Bhatnagar

He shot out of the dark alley, missed hitting Ashutosh by a whisker, stopped in his tracks, his eyes locked with Ashutosh’s for a moment, and he sprinted away like a hare. Aku, as Ashutosh’s friends called him, claimed his car parked near the clock tower a short distance away. He kept reviewing the recent scene as he drove to his home in Dalanwala. The young man, he thought, was probably in his late teens, a boy actually. His fair complexion, finely chiselled features and the confident body language indicated that he was from an affluent, sophisticated family. What intrigued Aku was that the boy was clad only in his undergarments, while clutching under his left arm a bundle which could be his shirt and trousers, and the haste with which he removed himself from the scene of their near collision. Even more intriguing were the red blotches on his vest. Could they be blood marks?
With a start he realised he had reached home. His mind went back to the fateful December night six months ago.
* * * * *
Aku was returning home after a late-night party with friends. The night was thick with fog and near zero visibility. Aku was driving very carefully trying not to hit any chance pedestrian. Nearing Astley Hall, he espied a shadowy figure staggering zig zag on the road. “Must be a drunk”, he thought and would have driven on had he not noticed that the diminutive figure was a woman. He stopped near her and asked her if she needed help. She only looked at him blankly. He asked again. Same response.
“Are you in trouble?” He tried again. Only a blank stare.
“What are you doing alone on Rajpur Road at this late hour?” Still no response.
“Where do you live, Ma’am? Can I drop you home?” Same response.
“Get in, lady. It is too cold to be out in the open.” She remained rooted to the spot.
He opened the door and guided her to the passenger seat. She did not resist. He too got in, gunned the engine and started off. Then it hit him!
What had he gotten himself into? He had a girl in his car he had not even seen two minutes ago, knew nothing about her. Not even her name. What to do with her? Where to take her? To his house? He had no other choice. A bachelor, he lived alone. It would be most improper to take a young girl to a bachelor’s joint. Ah, no. He has Hoshiyara and Dhania, the faithful old couple he had inherited, along with the bungalow, from his late parents who he had lost to a car crash three years ago, when he was still in college studying for his law.
He roused Hoshiyara and Dhania and put the girl in their charge.
Sipping the tea Hoshiyara had brought to his bed the next morning, he suddenly recalled the girl he had brought home last night. He enquired about her and Hoshiyara told him that Dhania had stayed the night with the girl, and was still with her.
He greeted the girl at the breakfast table. She only looked at him through her sad melancholy eyes. He tried to engage her in conversation but failed. She seemed oblivious to what was going on around her. She only pecked at what was served to her. Aku once again asked her name and was met with silence. Her only response to his queries was a glassy glance at him.  Aku gave up and, as was his routine, left for the court.
Aku had obtained his law degree, undergone two years of apprenticeship with a senior lawyer before striking out on his own. He had set up his office at home in what used to be his father’s study. A year on, he was still waiting for his first client. Luckily for him, his father’s legacy was earning him a sizable income.
Dhania was taking good care of the girl. Her ashen face had gradually started recovering some colour and she seemed more aware of her surroundings. But she had still not spoken. Not even her name. He did not know why but Aku started calling her Ananya and, to his surprise, she responded to the name but remained oblivious to all other overtures. Aku’s efforts to find her family remained fruitless.
Gradually, several weeks later, Ananya found her tongue. She started conversing, first with Dhania and, later with Aku too. But she would still not divulge any personal information. She did assure Aku, though, that she was not insane and was in full possession of her senses. By and by Ananya became a member of the household and took over some of Dhania’s duties. She was a natural cook and earned the title of ‘Empress of the Kitchen’ from Aku.
Aku found her intelligent, a good conversationalist and a delightful company. She maintained a mysterious silence about her past which remained a closed book. Now, six months later, there was no change.
* * * *
The narrow alley, through which the boy emerged, was dark even though it was high summer noon. Paltan Bazaar, as usual, was crowded with shoppers. The boy halted at the alley’s mouth waiting for his query who passed within two feet of him. He took a step forward, stabbed his query piercing his heart and, before the stunned onlookers could react, withdrew to the sanctuary of the alley. Midway through, he quickly shuffled out of his blood-soaked shirt and trousers, bundled them under his left arm and shot out of the other end of the alley, missed hitting Ashutosh by a whisker, stopped in his tracks, his eyes locked with Ashutosh’s for a moment, and he sprinted away like a hare.
Aku read about the crime in the local paper next morning and realised that the killer was the boy who had almost collided with him the day before. A law-abiding citizen as he was, he decided that he should go to the police and tell them what he saw. He sought advise from his mentor, the senior lawyer who asked if he could positively identify the boy who he thought was the assailant.
“I am not sure.” Aku told him.
“In that case, do nothing.” Mr. Pathak, his mentor advised him. “You will not be of any help to the police. You will only be made to run between the police station and the court and make a fool of yourself. You cannot afford that as a budding lawyer, can you?”
Aku accepted his senior’s advice. Did Nothing.
* * * *
Hoshiyara and Dhania were happy that Ananya was taking more and more interest in the affairs of Aku’s house. She had almost completely taken over and relieved the couple of most of their duties, leaving them free tend to their ailments, old as they were getting.  Aku was happy too.
Aku spent his mornings and evenings in the office, his table littered with some open law books, a strategically placed open file in front of him, pretending to look busy in the unlikely event of a client walking in on him. Today also he was pondering over the file but in reality, thinking about Ananaya, when Hoshiyara came in and told him that a man was waiting to see him.
Aku recognised the hesitantly entering man immediately. He had seen him making rounds of the court for the last few days, meeting lawyers and pleading with them to represent his young son accused of the Paltan Bazaar murder. All had refused. Some because he could not afford their fees and others because they believed it was not a winnable case. Aku believed that all accused deserved legal assistance even if the case was not winnable. He said he would not mind representing the accused. Mr. Pathak, his mentor, pooh-poohed the idea, telling him that it would be like committing suicide. And now the man was sitting in his office beseeching him to take up his son’s case.
“My son has not committed the murder, vakil sahib.” He said. “We are god fearing, law abiding middle class people. I have worked hard to send my son to college. He wants to be a doctor. He is falsely accused, vakil sahib. Take a look at his photograph, sir. Does he look like a killer?”
Aku looked at the snap. The face smiling up at him was not the one that had nearly collided with him. This boy was innocent. “I will represent your son. Leave the FIR and other papers with me. I will study them and meet your son in police custody.”
“Thank you, vakil sahib. God bless you. What will you charge, sir? I am a poor man but will try and raise money to pay you.”
“There will be no charge. I am accepting the case because I know your son is innocent. But let me warn you. This will be the first case of my career. I will try my best but it may not be good enough.”
“Theek hai, sahib. At least my son will be represented. He is good boy, sahib.”
With an effort Aku shook his mind off Ananya and started thinking about the case, the first case of his nascent career.
* * * *
Aku found Ramesh, the accused, occupying a stool in police custody. An ashen faced Ramesh, a lad not yet twenty, was clearly scared shit. He greeted Aku with folded hands and, begging that he was innocent, pleaded to be saved.
“What were you doing in Paltan Bazaar?” Aku asked him.
“I and my friend were only passing through the bazaar, sir.”
“What is the name of your friend?”
“Surendra, sir?”
“Isn’t he the one who got murdered?”
“Yes, sir. He was my best friend.”
“Then why did you kill him?”
“I did not kill him, sir.”
“Tell me in your own words what happened that day?”
“Yes, sir. Surendra and I were walking from Sindhi Sweet Shop towards the clock tower. Just as we approached the narrow alley, someone jumped out of it, stabbed Surendra twice and ran back to the alley.”
“Did you try to chase him?”
No, sir. I was shocked to see my friend stabbed. He had fallen down and I tried to help him. There were so many people around but nobody came to help us, sir.” Ramesh was weeping.
“Did the passers-by try to chase the assailant?”
“I don’t know. I was trying to stop Surendra’s flow of blood.”
“So, nobody came to your help? You took Surendra to the hospital yourself?”
“No, sir. Two men stopped to help, but the police arrived before the three of us could do anything. They took Surendra to the hospital.”
“Did you go with your friend?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What happened then?”
“Surendra was already dead. The police asked me questions. Then they took me to the Kotwali and locked me up.”
“Why were you carrying a knife?”
“I was not carrying any knife, sir. I did not kill my friend.”
Aku came away in a state of agitation. He knew Ramesh was innocent. How to prove his innocence was the problem. There were many witnesses who saw the crime being committed and all were ready to swear they saw Ramesh stab Surendra. Not a single witness said with certainty that Ramesh had not done it. Aku could not even claim that Ramesh was nowhere near the scene of crime. By his own admission, Ramesh was with Surendra when he was killed. Absence of knife would have been a good defence. But the police claimed that the weapon was recovered from Ramesh. A poor case as far as Ramesh was concerned. All the evidence was against him and nothing pointed to his innocence.
*****
He spent the next few days in meetings with Ramesh and his father. He sought guidance from Mr. Pathak who, at once, advised him to withdraw from the case. That an innocent man was likely to be punished for a crime he had not committed did not seem to bother him. But Aku was too young to be insensitive like Mr. Pathak. he was determined to fight for Ramesh’s acquittal, come what may.
Aku found himself emotionally torn. On the one hand he was determined to fight for Ramesh’s acquittal, come what may. On the other, he felt he was getting increasingly fond of Ananya. Life had taken a new charm since Ananya’s arrival. Hoshiyara and Dhania were taking good care of him. But in Ananya he had found a companion which neither of the old retainers could be. He could spend his life   in company with her.
‘What!!! Did I really think it?’ he asked himself. He was amused with the way his heart appeared to function. ‘But oh! What is wrong with it, anyway?’ he thought. He was genuinely fond of Ananya. Ananya had a charm he felt he could not resist. Was Ananya fond of him too? Both, he and Ananya were alone in the world. Ananya may not be a beauty queen but was he a handsome hero like Devanand?
He thought he should propose to her but decided to wait till he could be sure of Ananya’s feelings towards him. He also had to gather courage too, he admitted to himself.
Time passed. The case was going worse than his mentor had predicted. The public prosecutor was a senior lawyer who had more experience than Aku’s age. He easily circumvented every move Aku made. Aku was no match for the prosecutor who tied Ramesh and a rare defence witness or two in knots. Aku just could not counter his opponent’s courtcraft.
*****
Aku decided he could take it no longer. He called Ananya to his office room, looked at her for a long moment and, collecting his thoughts, spoke.
“Ananya, you have been here for almost a year. Are you quite comfortable? I like to think you are well provided. You only have to tell me or Dhania if you need anything. I do hope she takes good care of you.” Ananya nodded in agreement.
“Ananya, I want to thank you for what you have done for me while living in this house. I no longer feel like a tenant who comes here only to sleep at night. You have made this house a home for me. Now, I look forward to coming home every evening. Thank you Ananya. I thank you from the bottom of heart.”
“Thank you, Aku. May I go now? The kitchen needs my attention?” Ananya spoke without betraying emotions.
“No, Ananya, there is more. Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?” Ananya stare at him. “Yes Ananya, will you marry me? Say yes and we will get married at once.” Dumbfounded, Ananya could not take her eyes off his face. Then Ananya lowered her eyes and Aku said, “I know Ananya. It is not going to be easy to make up your mind. It is a difficult decision for a girl to make.”
Aku spoke again after some time. “Ananya, today is a big day for me. It is my judgement day. Yes, the court will pronounce the judgement in my case today. You will make me very happy if you decide in my favour and say you will marry me”. Aku saw with consternation the grieved look in Ananya’s eyes. He could not fathom what was passing through her mind, what emotional upheaval she was going through. Both looked at each other in silence.
“Alright, Ananya, think very carefully before you decide. I am now going to hear the court’s judgement. You may deliver yours when I come back in the evening.”
*****
“Ananya, Ananya”, a visibly upset Aku rushed in. “Ananya, please come out of hiding. This is no time for playing games nor being coy. The court’s judgment has gone against me. I lost my case. Come out now and pronounce your judgement in my favour.” Ananya did not respond. Aku rushed from room to room but did not find Ananya. She was nowhere to be seen.

Setu, January 2019