HUNTING FOR A HOUSE--TWO

THE  LOST  SHEEP

Believe me, hunting for a house to live in is the most daunting task I have ever faced.  When one has lived for a long time in a house, the comforts of the house one has configured and enjoyed,  cloud the vision from seeing the comforts of the houses inspected for possible occupation.  It appears to be a matter of mental readjustment; it takes time to ease the old house out and see the new houses with an open mind.  However, there are certain indisputable aspects in a house which stick out as sore thumbs.                                                          

*

Scanning the rental columns of the local journals, I noted  down the address of a house in Kalakshetra Colony and decided to see it without any delay.

As the address was within the colony I was living in, I took a leisurely walk in the direction of the area, where I guessed it must be.   Approaching the area I had in mind, I started to look keenly for the name Raja Street.  I went about it methodically, from one end to the other, reading every name board without fail.  After about fifteen minutes of careful combing, I ended up at the other end, without finding the street. 

I was now standing in front of a large house.  A big black car was parked in front of it, with its engine running and a man at the wheel.  All the dark tinted glasses were up, obviously the car was air-conditioned.  When I was wondering if I should ask someone, a burly man came out of the house, opened the gate, came out, closed it, and took a few steps towards the car.  Then he saw me standing there with an air of uncertainty and walked towards me. 

“Are you looking for someone?” he enquired.  His speech was slightly slurred.   He was near enough for me to pick up a whiff of alchohol.

“Well…,” I dragged, “not really.  I’m looking for a street.”  I replied  reluctantly. 

“Which street?” he asked.

I decided not to bother a stranger with my problem, especially when he was inebriated, “Please don’t bother.  I can find out myself.  You must be busy with your work, and your friend is waiting at the wheel.”  I took a step to move away from him, when he caught me by the arm with unexpected alacrity. 

“I am not busy at all Sir, and my friend is in no hurry at all.  Sir, you are lost, and it is my duty to show you the way.  Please get into the car.  We’ll take you to where you want to go.”

I was beginning to get worried.  I almost felt like a lost sheep, waiting to be rounded up.

Rather sheepishly I replied, “Look mister, I am not lost.  I am only looking for a street.”

“Precisely!” he exclaimed.  “If you don’t know your street, you are lost, I tell you,” he told me.  His grip tightened.

I thought I was getting into panic mode.  What was he getting at?  My purse had not more than a couple of low denomination notes and a few assorted coins.  Or, were they a bunch of gays, trying to get me into the car, take me to a remote spot and rape me?  The very thought was repulsive.  Perhaps it was an attempt to kidnap me and claim a handsome ransom from my son, or daughter, or wife, or brother, or anybody at all, who valued my life worth the ransom.  To my knowledge, and I am very knowledgeable in such matters, nobody, I repeat nobody at all, in the whole inner and outer circles of my family and friends, valued my life worth any kind of ransom, apart from the fact that none of them was financially fit to pay a handsome ransom.   In fact, to be frank, many of them were unaware that I was still alive and kicking, kicking myself for being alive.

“Look,” I tried to make it clear to him, “I am not looking for my street, but a street,”  making sure I got the stress on the indefinite article right.

“A street?” he repeated, mentally scratching his head.  “I don’t think there is any A street, or B street, or C street around here.”  Now, he physically started to scratch his head and, in the process, unwittingly let go of my arm.  He looked crestfallen that a rare opportunity to play the good Samaritan had slipped out of his hand.

That was the moment I was waiting for.  Within seconds, I was out of his reach and moving, saying, “Thank you, thank you very much for your kind consideration.”

As I took a turn, away from that street, I could see him still standing next to the car and scratching his head.                    

A.V. Dhanushkodi

June 23, 2011