Of men and Faludas

I stop by the restaurant I used to frequent, whenever I missed home in India. I haven't been there in months.

Of late, I don't feel the same way about things. Something has changed in a very fundamental way, and I can put my finger on what it is...... Somewhere I have read that a soul has many rooms (is it in my friend Julia Dutta's writings?). Mine has probably had a change of rooms.

To me, home meant a place I can always go back to. It always symbolized seeing my father, and resting - just mentally letting everything go. Now there are no strong arms that await, there is no healing touch. A lot of battles fought alone...and on behalf of those close to me. I don't balk at battles, but I have lost my sounding board. Things haven't been simple in the last couple of years.

These are the times I miss having a husband. At the end of the day, it would be nice to just hold someone and not have to speak. To have someone who would be protective, and with whom one can occasionally let down one's guard, and not pretend to be strong. Not all married women are blessed with such a man. But I have seen the effect of the right man on a woman. Men and women heal each other in so many ways...it'a pity that sometimes we pretend otherwise. Independence is over-rated.

*-*-*

To my pleasant surprise, I discover that the restaurant hasn't lost its effect on me. With most waiters speaking Tamil, and serving familiar food, the atmosphere relaxes me completely. A benevolence descends over me - not unlike what one gets after having a few drinks. And I haven't even touched a drop.....

The waiters chatter on familiarly, with their friendly smiles. They ask after Kamala, they have known her since she was two years old. They have practically seen her grow up.

R, the owner of the restaurant, is an old friend. We have been part of the same theater group, staging shows once a year for charity. We know each other's families, and wish each other on important days. R is a natural actor, and like most natural actors, is completely at ease with himself. There is a very spontaneous and friendly air about him. He saunters by my table, asks if I have been served, and tells the waiter to ask the chef to take special care in preparing the meal. "And make it fast for our special guest!", he says.

"Thanks, R!"

I smile at him, and he vanishes with a quick wave.

"You eat in peace, I'll be back!"

I see him checking on the other diners, asking a waiter to refill water, making sure everything is going well. I settle down and enjoy my special Masaal Dosai. It is made just the way I like it - with a generous dose of butter. What's life without an occasional indulgence?

Dessert comes. The faluda is refreshing, topped off with rose flavored ice cream. I dip my spoon in it, and savor the layers, mingled differently in each spoonful. The smooth ice-cream feels divine on my tongue, and I close my eyes....this is nirvana in a tall glass. The strands of vermicelli are done perfectly, and the milk is sweet and refreshing. Whoever invented this knows his/her stuff.

"Nice faluda?"

I smile at R. "Absolutely! A wonderful end to a Friday."

R sits down across from me, and asks the waiter to bring him a soup. It is rare for him to do this. Most times, he is on his feet. He says he sleeps for only four hours each day - and yet he is one of the most cheerful people I have met - always a kind word here, a joke there...friendly ribbing, followed by caring words. I don't know how he manages it.

"How's aNNi*?" I ask, enquiring about his wife.

"Ach!" He slaps his forehead in mock anger. "See, this is the problem with you. Why do you have to make me your brother? If pretty women call me brother I feel like running away!"

I laugh. This is a standing joke between us. The mock anger, the fake frustration are all too familiar.

"R, remember my line? All married men are my brothers!"
"There is no need for such lines! Why make us brothers - we have feelings too!"
"I am appealing to your protective side - as my elder bro you are honor bound to protect me, you see."
"Sheesh....Why do women utter such filmi dialogues? Now I have no choice but to be a bro under severe protest."

One thing I like about R is his outrageous statements. A whole day's stress will evaporate in 5 minutes once R starts talking. He might posture and talk big, but at the end of the day he is a devoted husband and father. His wife, after over two decades of marriage, is used to his speech and doesn't bat an eyelid.

"But why make all married men your brothers?", he persists.
"Because that's the way it is. My life is complicated enough without incurring the wrath of other women."
"What wrath?"

I shrug. "Wrath. If I run around with another woman's husband, you think she's going to be happy? She'll curse me and that curse will be upon my family too!"

"Ach! Filmi dialogue again. What's wrong with you women? You take a simple matter and give a big build-up about it"

I can't help laughing. I feel like becoming filmy and dramatic, just to rile R - and see what hilarious comments he comes up with.

"What build up?" I say with mock seriousness. "Its wrong to take another woman's man, period. No discussions!"

R looks bewildered. "Who's talking about taking another woman's man?"
"Huh? You of course!"

R shakes his head. "This is not taking. Its like 'Ma'm, may I please have a taste of your Faluda, please?' That is all. Who's talking about taking an entire glass? Just take some, say thank you and that's it!"

I look at my faluda glass. "I don't share faludas, R!"
"But other women may not mind."
"Ahaan, with other people's faludas come other people's germs, sir! Who wants those?"
"Well - the other option is to go hungry! You are wasting your life."

Sigh. "I'm just waiting for the right man, R!"
"Yeah. The right man, the right time, the right bells and whistles. May never happen..."
"I know"
"And you're okay with this?"

He says this with the same wondering tone as Timon in The Lion King.
Simba, Nala wants to eat Pumba!
Yes.
And Pumba is your friend!
Yes.
And...we're all okay with this?

I burst out laughing.

"You're impossible, R! If I listen to you...."
"If you listen to me..."

I finish the last of my faluda, and fold my hands in a Namaste.

"Mera izzat ka faluda ho jayega**!"
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*aNNi - brother's wife in Tamil
**Mere izzat ka faluda ho jayega - roughly translated, "people will make a faluda of my reputation!".