Prologue
He was exactly what a teacher would wish for a student to be, at least, apparently. Attentive and silent in the class, neat and tidy, does all home work, answers their questions and above all has excellent handwriting.
But things are not always as they appear to be.
Trouble used to be routine those days for us guys. Matters such as calling a nick name or linking one's name with a girl used to be a big issues. Fights and slandering were common among the boys which mostly led to Fr. Arzenius or Fr. Clerus to end up in a settlement where both parties suffered.
One thing was noticeable all those days that whenever a trouble occurs, our hero will be somewhere around but he will not be, again apparently, anyway involved in the issues. But without his knowledge or rather initiative, nothing amiss would happen. Even though he spoke only a few words, they were rightly weighed and uttered to the most vulnerable person.
But he couldn't fool everybody, especially our most senior Chacko sir, the mathematics teacher who named him Soothran.
The Easter
I was in the final term of my course, when I found myself to be staying alone at Madiwala, Bangalore. My room-mate quit the course and went to Dubai. There was no one to share the rent. Lonliness was the bigger issue. Only relief was my old friend Soothran was staying only a couple of streets away and luckily they had a TV. So every Sunday after Mass and laundry I used to go there.
Then came Easter.
I couldn't go home and so was Soothran. But all his room-mates would head home. So I decided to spend the Saturday night at his apartments so that both of us can have company and of course a TV.
We woke up late on the Easter morning and decided to go for 9:30 Mass at St. Thomas church. Around 8:45 we postponed the breakfast and headed for the church. We had to walk. The normal route would be to go to Bangalore Dairy and take a left turn.
When we reached St. John's Medical College junction, I told him that I know a short cut and took the road towards Taverekere/ St. John's Woods of Prestige Group. Soothran's face turned grave as he outsmarted me by saying “ I know a shorter cut”.
Maybe, I thought. He is a smart guy and he was at Bangalore for a longer time.
Thus we went ahead and he guided me to a narrow walkway meandering through the compound of the staff quarters of St. John's Medical College. The summer sun was over our heads and we started feeling the heat. In a short while we reached Taverekere main road. I had a vague idea of the bearing and I asked him, shouldn't we take a right turn?
Sothran's face turned adamant and he declared he knew the way very well and asked me to shut up and follow him. After ten more minutes of hard treading under the heavy sun, I was sure that we were lost.
"Are you sure, we will reach the church?” I asked.
"I think we missed a right turn” Soothran.
"That was what I asked you earlier” said I. “But you were very sure.”
Soothran kept a tactful silence and I looked at the watch. It was 9:45.
Then there were not much further conversation, because Soothran was a rather silent guy and the sun took away my interest to talk.
Both of us, lost in the streets, on our foot, scorching sun.
Normally, by any means possible, I would not ask for directions from any body on the streets. But this was an exceptional occasion, yet I didn't ask because I would have to start with where we are now, which will paint myself as a total jackass. And Soothran asking someone something useful is impossible. So we kept on walking ahead and ahead.
Both of us, lost in the streets, on our foot, scorching sun, hungry too.
By then we reached a butcher's lane. Several mutton shops were lined side by side with several skinned sheep hanging and swinging on hooks. A doubt occurred to me, I don't know whether it was due to the sun and hunger, were they rather smaller sheep or bigger dogs. I didn't dare the question seeing the butchers and their choppers. But I asked it to Soothran in Malayalam and he just laughed.
A couple of streets ahead we saw a familiar thing. It was a BMTC bus parked by side. Soothran sid, “My God, this one goes to BTM Layout”. (Since he knows Bangalore better, he knows the bus numbers!!!). I noticed that the lanes were broader here.
Believe me, I was for the first time in my life near BTM Layout.
Now the sun was not a problem and the hurting fatigue in legs unfelt. We moved on.
Finally, I don't know what time, we saw a main road bisecting the lanes and THANK GOD, A BUS STOP. We could see a water tank on the opposite side.
Thankfully we were in a bus shelter!!!!!!!
A bus came and stopped, I didn't ask.
After some time, another bus came. I approached the front door, opposite to the driver and asked
"Madiwala jayega?”
He nodded and and we got in. Soothran got the tickets and there were seats.
After some time, I don't know how long (was it the sun and hunger??) we reached Madiwala. We alighted at the bus stop and walked to Soothran's home.
My best memory is that I fell down to a bed.
I told him “From now onwards, never again, I will take a road heeding your suggestions”.
Morale of the story: (but it's not a story, I have to respect the style of literature)
Never trust Soothran on bearings.
(regarding everything else, I have previous experiences)
