Raising the bar - Short Story March 2014

Raising the bar

Atlanta, USA, 1996

Ravi gently moved his hand across his brow, drawing with it a few beads of sweat that had overstayed their visit. The sun was out as it should be, summer in Atlanta was not for the faint of heart. He narrowed his eyes to focus on the obstacle in front of him. The obstacle was a bar. The bar was slightly thicker than an inch. It was delicately placed at a height of 2.3 meters above the ground. The last four years of training came down to avoiding the bar on this particular day, on this particular run. He looked left for a fleeting moment, and made eye contact with his coach, Nitesh.  Nitesh smiled back at him, his eyes were cloudy but his confidence shined through, they had trained day and night for this moment, which would make both coach and student immortal….

Rewind….Barcelona, Spain, 1992

The young man walked like he had a sharp object lodged up his backside. His Ipod played some heavy metal, connected to his Bose headphones, they did a good job of blocking the cacophony outside, allowing the listener to focus only on the cacophony inside. He had had too much to drink at the party, the women had been all over him that night, every night. He was tall for his age and of athletic build. Being an athlete probably had a lot to do with it. An hour back he had been having a few shots. Downing tequila, one, two, three, four, no one is counting, except the bartender.

“You are from out of town? Come to see the Olympics, maybe?” the brunette had said. She had one hand on his arm, the other signalling the bartender for more shots

“Yuhhhhhes love. I might win the medal tomorrow, be sure to look out for me on TV” said the young man.

One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, four, counted the bartender.

Ravi woke up with a splitting headache. Today wasn’t an ordinary day. Ravi Subramaniam, son of Mr and Mrs. Subramaniam, an eighteen year old boy, was about to participate in the Summer Olympics competing in the High Jump. He had to report in at the stadium at 10 for breakfast with his coach. He glanced at the alarm clock, it had been buzzing since 8 am, for an hour now. He picked up the clock and flung it across his hotel room. The clock broke into six or seven distinct pieces, a couple landed on a Brazilian accent. The accent woke up with a shock, got into a pair of jeans, a t shirt and stumbled out the door. Ravi, took another hour to get ready and rushed to the stadium to meet Nitesh.

“Good morning Ravi. Glad you decided to join me today, wasn’t excepting you to come. Another night of some social drinking I suppose?” barked Nitesh. His arms were folded and his face stern.

“Sorry Coach. But chill. We got it covered. Have you seen the competition, you know no one can touch me” shot back Ravi as he grabbed a few fruits and a bowl of cereal. He hungrily shoved it down his throat, to keep the whiskey calm and down.

A few hours later, the crowds had filled the stadium. His competitor from Russia had cleared 2.3 m, it was not his turn. He turned towards the crowds and moved his hands together, cheering them on and chants of his name filled the stadium. They loved him, the Champ is what they called him when he had been on the cover of Sports Illustrated that year.

“Champ. Champ, Champ” yelled the crowds with rising fervor.

He turned back towards the bar. He narrowed his eyes as he focused on the bar that had been set at 2.4m, clearing the bar would guarantee him the gold. He looked towards his coach, and then turned away hurriedly. He took a few steps towards the bar as he started his run. Those would be the last steps he took that day, as the dehydrated, inebriated drunkard called the Champ fell flat on his face. The pool of regurgitated whiskey and tequila on the synthetic Olympic mat would take a few hours of scrubbing to remove.

Chennai, India, 1993

“In my opinion, without this treatment, you have a few more years to live, maybe four. The treatment is expensive and your insurance doesn’t cover it. I wish there was something I could do, but my hands are tied” said the man in the white coat. The man in the white coat was a doctor. Nitesh had given him the number that morning, Ravi wanted to get a health check-up done and he had only one name in his phone address book. 

The champ gripped his chair tightly. The last year had been a blur, his vomit covered face had replaced the GQ covers, his country had not forgotten him but the reason they remembered wasn’t one of pride. The champ was scared. He needed the treatment, for that he needed money, for that he needed a job, family or friends. He had nothing. He had Nitesh.

For a second he hoped the doctor would break into a big smile, the white screen behind him would separate to reveal a TV crew, and he would end up on primetime tonight, the third page of the daily tomorrow. But there was no screen, the doctor did not smile and there would be no news.

Knock Knock on hard word.

“Ravi, what a surprise. Its been what, three months since I saw you?” said Nitesh “You don’t look too bad, looks like the doc gave you a clean chit eh”

“You don’t look too bad yourself Coach” mumbled Ravi “Can I come in”

“Sure Sure. You are…were…one of my favourite students. I always have time for you” said Nitesh

They settled into the tiny living room of the tiny Chennai apartment. You couldn’t really see the walls, since they were peppered with medals, black and white photos of the coach in his younger days and Tanjavore paintings of Indian gods.

“I am going to win the gold in the Olympics in Atlanta” said Ravi. His eyes were steadfast and unblinking. His breathing was calm and measured. There are moments when you know that the whole universe is watching you and that you are simultaneously watching the whole universe. It runs like electricity through your veins, yet it doesn’t titillate or excite you.

“What?” exclaimed Nitesh “Do you even remember what happened in Barcelona. You have gone crazy”

“I was crazy Coach. When I partied and drank the night before the Olympics. When I skipped training to go for drinks. I was crazy back then Coach, not any more. I am going to win the gold in the Atlanta Olympics. I cannot do it alone. I need you now more than ever. Please. Please” said Ravi.

Present Day, Atlanta, USA, 1996

Nitesh smiled back at Ravi. His training had been intense since that morning when Ravi had come to meet him at his house in Chennai. Nitesh would push Ravi till his legs cried out in pain and when they were about to break, he would make him sprint for another half an hour. The media had been supportive, reporting Ravi’s transformation as an inspirational story, of how a phoenix had risen from the whiskey infused ashes that Ravi had strewn on the Olympic field in Barcelona.

Time and Science gave way out of respect for that moment. As Ravi sailed over, the universe froze. The Coach and Ravi could almost feel each other stand side by side on some cosmic plane looking at this young strong man arch over the high jump rod. Cameras flashed, people screamed, the country jumped up with joy and pumped their fists as the young Indian boy won the Olympic Gold.

He would leave him a note explaining everything, Nitesh thought to himself. Sacrifice. Ramu, the man in the white coat, an actor friend had recited Nitesh’s script word for word to the Champ. The treatment had been effective. He waved to his student, one last time, Ravi waved back as he  pumped his fist into the warm Atlanta sun. Immortal.

The City screams romance ! it does..it really does.

Paris, France

We booked ourselves at the Ibis Bastille. The hotel was very conveniently located 15 minutes (by walk) from the Bastille Metro station and as we later discovered 2 minutes (by walk) from the stop after Bastille!. The Metro and bus system is the lifeline of Paris, as long as your hotel is located near the Metro, moving around Paris is a dream. I found the staff very helpful and the rooms clean.

Tip: Ive got mixed feelings on whether or not to include breakfast in your hotel stays. At 10-11 euros a day per person it might seem a tad expensive, but waking up to a croissant and some orange juice isn’t the worst. The only downside is that the food is usually sparse in most hotels. If you do end up booking breakfast you are likely to find cornflakes (normal and muesli ish one), bread (usually croissants and a few more varieties, fruits, cold cuts – usually turkey and ham, cheese, honey/nutella, yoghurt, juice and coffee/tea. On the upside, I think a filling yet light (read non-oily) breakfast of the items mentioned above may be the perfect start to a day which will doubtless be filled with long walks and a queue or two.

 

We took the train from the airport to the station in Bastille. The metro runs straight from the airport and you can buy a three-day Paris pass for 15 euros a person. The pass covers all trains, metros and gives you a discount on the Siene cruise. IMHO, a great buy, we only took trains and buses all over the city, and with all the discounts and the convenience of hopping onto the metro without waiting in line to buy a ticket every time, the pass was a godsend.

The Paris metro is the best thing on the planet. It is an idiots guide to finding places. There are 4-5 lines – green, yellow, red, blue and pink. The only way you would be totally fucked on the Paris metro is if you were color blind. Just look for the nearest spot near the tourist attraction of interest, do some Scotland yard connecting the places using the various lines and it actually works out to be that easy.

Things to do?

Sit at the cafes and people-watch. The bistros are fantastic to pick up an expresso and a nice buttery croissant. Watch the people go buy and you cannot help but think chique chique chique.

Go to the Moulin rouge area during the day. Be careful of the local population who will try to tie a friendship band around your hand and then charge you 2 euros for it. Be polite and keep walking away. Stand on the large industrial fans outside the Moulin Rouge (remember the classic red windmill from the movie) and have some fun as the winds make your hair stand up. Do make sure not to suffer a Monroe J

If you want a fantastic view of Paris, don’t go up the Eiffel tower. Once you are up the Eiffel tower there isn’t much else to see. Go to the viewing deck of the Montparnasse building and get a view of the Eiffel tower! If you bought the Paris day pass like I told you, you ll get a discount on the way up. Trust me, the view is fantastic! We watched the tower light up and twinkle and that is a moment I will go back to again and again!

One could book a table at the most expensive restaurant near the Eiffel tower with a view of the tower. One could then tip the guy at the reception a large amount to make sure you get the best table of the house. One would then proceed to plough through a 5 course meal including foi grax and wine you cant pronounce and from an age that you couldn’t care about.

Orrrrrrrr

Go over to the nearest 7x11 equivalent supermarket. Pick up all the cheese and bread you like. Take a bottle of their finest wine, 6 euros including taxes and stroll confidently towards the Eiffel tower. Right in front of that monolith, you will find a massive park with a massive bunch of drunk kids. If you followed above instructions to the T and proceed to consume the 6 euro bottle of wine, you will slowly find yourself also forming part of the drunk kids description! Stay till 10-11 pm, the tower lights up and sparkles like a diamond every 1 hour, and I ooooed and aahed every time it did that.

We finally did try the foi grax at a restaurant in Montmarte. The waiter later informed us that it is usually paired with a sweeter wine to counteract the slight bitterness of the dish. Montmarte is up a hill near the Moulin Rouge. It has a lovely area full of artists where you can pick up a neat painting for 20-50 euros. We also had lunch at one of the restaurants nearby, where for 30 euros we shared a 4 course meal which was well worth it. 

Euro trip prep!

When my country's economy was in doldrums, when the exchange rate had caught up with my grandfathers age and when it was most likely that my access card would mysteriously stop working, we (my wife and I, we agree on these kind of decisions) decided to troop off to europe for a 14 day holiday. 

Disclaimer: You could replace I with We everywhere  in the rest of the note, but since a lot of these are opinions I am keeping it to “I” so I don’t get the boot later. At the same time, it might be in my best interest to admit my wife was phenomenal in finding out great things to do during our trip which made this one of the best holidays ever!

Its funny how when you add expensive tickets (september is peak season, or just off, maybe the second highest peak), expensive hotels ("We arent college students anymore. There was a time for backpacking, we should stay in good hotels now!" "Ofcourse we want the mountain view, I dont care if it costs the same as another room"), expensive currency (Damn you exchange rate. Damn you to fucking hell")....its funny when you add all the above (Unhelpful trivia: In France you could ask for the bill or ask for l'addotion (phonetically its luddi cyon)  which means addition but also means the cheque!), its funny how when you add all of the above what you end up with is a priceless holiday.

I would like to tell you a bit of what we did, how we travelled around, what we ate and saw, the people we met and the places we avoided. Any useful tips or tricks I shall italicize.

The Flight to

We took the Lufthansa flight to Paris, it took off just after midnight and reached at 10:30 am Paris time.

Tip 1: I guess experiences on flights vary, but I am never going to do Lufthansa again. They DID NOT have inflight entertainment. I mean they did have gujjus but I don’t think we can give Lufthansa credit for that. We flew Swissair back, much nicer crew!

Paris -> Basel -> Interlaken -> Basel -> Mulhouseville -> Nice -> Pisa -> Grosetto-> Rome ..is what we ended up with.

  

Currency

I took enough euros to cover for 100 euros a day (that’s budget for two people for food, museum tickets, fridge magnets and the like, more on this later). I also took enough euros for the entire hotel stay so that I didn’t have to take out my credit card. This was in some ways a budgeting trick so I didn’t spend more than I had as well as ensuring the credit card was open for emergencies (having to rebook or some other emergency God Forbid). This was also good to not be impacted by currency fluctuations. Fact: I actually ended up spending more because I bought euros, the exchange rate moved in favour of the rupee during my stay, but a known devil is one I prefer. I am definitely not in the business of trying to make or lose money on buying / selling euros, instead I would like to have a fixed budget for a holiday and not be surprised at the end of it.

Tip: Stow the money in multiple bags / locations so that in case it gets stolen you have backup.

Tip: We also kept a count of how much we spent by noting it down on the phone. This helps because the spends during a day really add up. You will be surprised how after doing nothing during the day you will have 100 euros less. A gelato here, a water bottle there, a few museum tickets, one boat ride, god I have to have another pink and green macaroon, a few more museum tickets and BOOM. The other thing it does is noting expenses helps pull you back from making spends you will regret and also helps push you to spend on some other crazy stuff you will enjoy. E.g Didn’t buy a burberry bag. Did spend an extra 20 euros to go up the Montmarte building to get a glorious view of the Eiffel Tower. Never hold back on expenses related to seeing, eating, drinking on holiday. I would hold back on high street - retail expenses especially if you aren’t on a splurge spree (Ladies please note, my wife did some good shopping in Rome but she found it pointless as did I to buy 150 euro boots in Paris)

  

The Eurrail Pass and How I went about it

The Eurrail pass is a handy tool that lowers cost of travel within a country, within two countries, three or the entire bunch of them. It also gives you discounts on some local boat rides, metro tickets and some shopping. I found the site www.eurrail.in very handy since the prices are in rupees and they delivered the tickets to my address in India within 3 days of booking the tickets online.

First we made an iternanary (this word itenary is something I shall never be able to spell without autocorrect or the dictionary on Microsoft word).

So as I was saying, first we made an itinerary of places we wanted to see. Checked all the rates on the website for intercity travel and then did the same thing again after clicking the “I have a eurrail pass” option. I found the two country France-Switzerland pass saved me money so decided to buy that one. They have two classes on the train – conveniently named first and second with the first class ones usually costing a tad more than second. The passes are usually valid for 3 days / 4 days / 5 days. You need to write the date on the pass, and as long as you write the date, all travel within or between the countries where the pass is valid is free!.

Tip   : Take the second class tickets unless you have over-night trains. On overnight trains first class tickets are sleepers and second class tickets are well reclining seats. Also make an excel file comparing the rates by booking directly and with the pass. You also don’t need to make reservations for traveling within a country on the local trains. We made the mistake of making reservations for local trains by paying 8 euros each but you could use the pass to just sit directly on the train without a reservation! You do need a reservation though for all overnight trains, inter-city trains and some scenic trains (some trails in Switzerland cost more because the views are gorgeous)

I suggest you take second class, I paid maybe 10-15% more for the tickets and travelled first and didn’t find it particularly fantastic. There was no wifi, there usually wasn’t much food and unlike India where the difference between first class and third class can mean air conditioning, a hygienic bathroom and the opportunity to have your gold chain stolen, the standards of air conditioning and hygiene in the bathroom are high everywhere in Europe. They also didn’t seem to be snatching chains on the train in general.

Tip: An overnight train isn’t very strenuous. It also saves 100 euros worth of a hotel stay. I wouldn’t suggest finding one just to save hotel money, but if it so happens that you need an overnighter to go from city 1 to city 2 do not rule it out. The trains are fabulous and the savings don’t hurt.

Chapter 2: The Case of the Golden Deer

मसार गल्वर्क मुखः शंख मुक्ता निभ उदरः |
कस्य नाम अनिरूप्यः असौ न मनो लोभयेत् मृगः || ३-४३-२९

Its face is like a mug made up of sapphires, its paunch is pearly and conchoidal, and whose heart is it that will not lured for this deer with an inexplicable beauty. [3-43-29]

   

“We need a case Lx, my brains are starting to get rusty” gushed Raam

“Let’s wait it out. A good detective is a patient one. And if we don’t get a case in the next 10 minutes, I am in favour of committing a crime” replied Lx

Raam stared at Lx the way one would stare at a friend with lower IQ but one you care about.

“It’s plain and simple logic, my friend. You need to adapt to a changing environment. You cannot keep making bulky televisions when everyone wants thin LEDs. You cannot keep making big hand phones when smaller is cooler”

Raam interjected, “Clearly you haven’t seen the latest mobiles, they are starting to get bigger now, the size of a person’s face”

“I think we are losing the plot Raam, we need a case to solve remember. Let’s focus on that”, said Lx.

Ding Donggggggggg

“I knew it!” exclaimed Raam. Any self-respecting detective knew that once the detective settles down in his chair and declares that he is in the mood for case solving, a beautiful mysterious woman usually shows up either accused of murder or afraid that someone might murder the beautiful mysterious woman’s portly husband. The reason why these mysterious women only wore red, black or white was probably linked to the fact that “The mystery of the polka dotted t shirt woman in figure hugging jeans” just doesn’t seem to hit the spot. 

Having concluded that the bell must be the precursor to the entry of one such beautiful mysterious woman Raam shouted “Come in, detectives Raam and Lx await you”

The portly man entered with some difficulty. He looked around with disgust, covering his face with a handkerchief. “You have got to be kidding me. Kids !! Kids !! I knew I shouldn’t have trusted the yellow pages. Kids”

“Welcome sir, you are neither beautiful nor mysterious, and my instincts tell me that you are also not a woman. You are a man, and you are portly” deduced Raam

“Well done Raam. I think you summarized that rather well” agreed Lx

“Hummmm” hummed the portly man

“Have a seat Sir, and tell us how we can help you” they said in unison. 

The odd “Hurrah” could be managed by groups of the non-synchronysed swimming variety, but the boys display of skill in managing 12 words in chorus clearly had a positive impact on the portly man. He sat down, then realized he had sat down and leaned forward to brief them.

 “Gentleman, my name is Tukaram. It’s my sister, she’s been kidnapped. And it has something to do with a golden deer that I saw outside my house” gushed the portly man, or Tukaram if you prefer

“A golden deer??” exclaimed Lx. He continued, “Why don’t we start at the beginning. Tell us more about yourself”

“I work on a farm and my sister, Sita, stays with me. After our parents died, I have been taking care of her. We have been farming for years now, growing sugar cane and selling it to the local factories. I run the tractors on the field, Sita handles the accounts and makes sure we have enough money in the bank to feed ourselves”

“Business hasn’t been great lately. The monsoons are still key to whether we make a good crop. And then there is all the construction”

“Construction? You mean real estate developers. Where are your farms located Mr.Tukaram? With the way the city is expanding they must have reached all the way to you”

“My town is called dodakanahabulli”

“Dodakabli?”

“Dodakanahabulli”

“Dodakaboooli?”

“Dodakanahabulli”

“Dodaaa….so focussing on the issue at hand. I am sorry about your sister Mr.Tukaram.Tell us about the day Sita was kidnapped. When did it happen. Did you notice anything unusual about her behaviour. Please tell us everything you can remember about the incident. Anything could help”

“It happened two days back, on Thursday. It was a normal day, Sita was actually happier than usual. We finished up our daily work routine, wake up at 5am, take the tractor through the fields, rest, lunch, inspecting crops for diseases in the evening, house chores, dinner..and that’s when I saw it”

“Saw what?”

“The…….golden deer”

“Is it possible you just saw a regular deer. The light plays tricks on the eyes sometimes. Why just the other day, I was walking with Ram in the park and we saw this couple. And they looked silver but it was actually the moonlight, so they weren’t actually silver. If they were silver, you could say things like “you guys make a shiny new couple” or “Which band do you guys like? Metallllllica?” or you”

“Lx. Shut up”

“Thanks Ram” said Tukaram and continued “It was golden I tell you. I have 6/6 vision. The moon was out, and it was a clear night. First I noticed a golden flash outside the window, but I ignored it. Then Sita saw it as well, she poked her head out of the window and almost fainted”

“I ran across to her, and there it was. It was moving quite fast, it was a golden deer. You must believe me”

“I wore my sandals, rushed out of the house to catch it or at least get a better look. I thought I saw it in the distance, and I ran after it with all I had, but the further I ran, the further it seemed to disappear. The air was suddenly not very clear. Black fumes engulfed me, and I found it hard to breathe. I suddenly felt afraid for Sita, and ran back to the house as fast as I could”

“I reached home calling her name but I didn’t get an answer. It was as I had feared. Someone or something has taken my sister. I am a god fearing man sir, but the deer, Sita, I feel mythical forces are at play. I haven’t been to the temple in years, maybe this is god’s way of taking revenge. I must have angered the lord, for he has .”

“CTFD”

“CTFD?”

“Calm the fuck down. Lx, get the man some water.”

Grudgingly gulping down the water, Tukaram’s pulse seemed to come back down towards frantically out of control. Ram sat back in his chair and assumed a more comfortable position, a good detective needs to be comfortable. Imagine trying to solve a case or connect together clues when your jeans are too tight or in bad weather. Holmes must have a good tailor, he figured. But enough about Holmes.

“Now that you have CTFDed, Lx and I would like to ask you a few questions. Please keep your answers brief and to the point. Understood?”

“Yes, I think I have. Ill do my best. I shall answer your questions as best I can. I will try and remember every little detail. It is difficult but I must, for my sister. I shall answer eve”

“CTFD”

“…..”

“Good, now let us begin” said Raam to Tukaram, arming his verbal racquet with the semi-eastern grip, positioned himself at the middle of the net near the T and began his volley onslaught as Lx assumed the standard look to the left-look to the right-look to the left-repeat position. 

“How big is your farm”

“2 acres” 

“Any neighbouring farms in the area?”

“Most of the farmers have sold their land to the local developer Lanka Constructions. It’s just me and Sitaram. He holds another 4 acres right behind mine”

“Did Sitaram have more lands in the area?”

“He did. He owned more than 20 acres. But he sold most of his land to Lanka. In fact, the entire Lanka urbania opposite my farm belonged to him.”

“Can you draw this out on a map for us”

Exhibit A: Tukaram’s Map

“So the Green plot is where I farm. The blue one is where Sitaram does his farming. That’s the main road running right next to my plot. On the other side of town is Lanka Urbania, the large township project that is almost complete. They have met me a couple of times asking me to sell my land, but I would never sell to them. Money is money, but you don’t give up what you love doing for years for a pile of cash. You just dont”

“That’s very useful Sir. Very useful indeed”

“Indeed” added Lx

“I hope you boys have heard about the legend of Maricha. If you know any priests who can do a havan or do a grand offering let me know. That’s the only way to get Sita back”

“Maricha Sir?  You didn’t tell me about this dude before”

“This dude son, is a savage demon. He transformed himself into a Golden Deer to entice Raam to move away from the house, while his wife Sita was left unguarded at home. This helped give Raavan the time to kidnap her.”

“Sorry to interrupt you sir. All very nice to hear, this Maricha business. But we would like to focus on the facts if you will”

“For example, when Lx handed you our favourite set of coloring sketchpens to make a drawing, we noticed you also took a yellow one. What we didn’t understand was that squiggly drawing you made at the end”

“That’s the deer”

“That’s the deer?”

“That’s what I saw, the deer. And the yellow path is the direction in which it ran before I lost track of it, also the air around me got smoggier and I couldn’t see very well”

“Hmm” hmmed Raam

“Hmm” hmmed Lx

“Ok. This is done. I made a big mistake coming to you guys. I should have gone to the police. I thought they would find me crazy for telling them a story about golden deer and the Raamayana, but I think they are my best chance. Or maybe Ill go tell the priest at the local temple. Maybe he will help me out of this mess”

“The case is solved” exclaimed Raam and Lx in unison.

It was this kind of synchronous exclamations that had given Tukaram confidence when he had entered their sparsely decorated office. It was the same synchronous exclamation that made him sit up again.

“Really? You know who abducted my sister? Tell me. Tell me quickly”

“It was a clear night, the moon was out and your eyesight was clear. Yet, as you ran behind the deer, you said you were finding it hard to breathe and see, and that the air got blacker”

“You work on a farm, on a farm there are two things, crops, and a tractor to run through it”

“Your plot gives Sitaram access to the main road, and the fact that he owned the lands on the other side indicate that he knows Lanka well”

“You did not want to sell to Lanka but you might have been persuaded to sell to another farmer, with the right amount of pressure from outside”

“Go immediately to the police, tell them to bring a search party, and search Sitaram’s premises. Tell them to take special notice of where he keeps his tractor and his other farm equipment. You should find your sister there. She will be unharmed and well fed. He didn’t mean to harm her, just keep her there till you signed over your land parcel to him”

“That unscrupulous no-good two bit lying conniving motherfucker”

“Well put”

“Thanks. I will go immediately. Thank you boys. Here is a cheque, its blank, you can fill in your fees and cash it in”

“Wow. That’s awfully generous of you”

“Yes no worries. That account of mine has 600 rupees in it. That’s about how much I was willing to pay you two anyway. So go ahead and take it”

Tukaram gathered his stuff and started out towards the door. Suddenly he paused and turned around.

“You might have solved who took my sister. But you boys must admit. The golden deer must have shaken your modern-age beliefs. Maricha…he may have distracted me but I shall continue to pray to Lord Raam so I don’t see that monster again”

“There was no golden deer sir. No Maricha and this is definitely no Ramayana. The deer has a name”

“Yes it does, Maricha”

“Well, you might want to call it that, but the more anglicised correct name is John”

“John?”

“John….John Deer”

“WHAT”

“What you saw sir was the symbol on Sitaram’s tractor made by the John Deere Tractor Company, 

Exhibit B: John Deere Tractor Company Logo

which he ran past your house to distract you. He then circled back and came to your house, took your sister and went towards his farm while you were still searching the elusive beast. The black fumes, exhaust, from his tractor as he ran it at high speed to make sure you didn’t get too close”

“Ayooooo Raaaama”

The next day, Ram woke up early. A good day to go to the park. 

His dad called out to him from downstairs “Raaam..Time for breakfast. Come fast”

“Pass me the cereal dad. Thanks”

“Crazy stuff in the papers today. Some farmer’s sister was abducted, but the police managed to find the guy who did it. The farmer’s neighbour! People these days, they ll do anything for money”

“Maricha….you didn’t get away this time”

“What did you say son?”

“Nothing dad….Nothing”

Chapter 1: The one that hummed and the one that is handsome

Chapter 1: The one that hummed and the one that is handsome

Bangalore, India

The fir trees were dressed in yellow, the more dapper ones in green. They stood firm as the wind hurried through. The more risqué coconut trees flirted with the wind, allowing him to run his hand through her outstretched leaves. But just when the wind gained confidence in its approach, they would return to their original upright position, leaving the wind huffing, puffing and dejected, only to be teased again.

In the middle of the park stood Raam, a young man of fifteen, as young a man as any man of fifteen should be. He was neither dark nor fair. His height was just about average. His features were far from striking, the kind that might rob a bank on Tuesday morning at 10:00am and have the teller unable to draw him out from a line-up of him and old women by 10:14am.  We are of course assuming a teller of sound intelligence, the kind that manages to find two bunnies in those memory games.

“Hummmm” hummed Raam. It wasn’t the most original sound he had uttered in his fifteen years, but it was off late, a common one. Young men hum for two reasons. There is the more loving sighing hum that starts at a low pitch and ends even lower. This hum usually follows spotting a girl with a cute hairdo or just after you consume a sloppy burger, fries and a belch inducing large coke. There were many girls in the park that day, some with exceptionally cute hairdos but none had passed by Raam’s field of vision. It was safe to assume that the young man had not been on the receiving end of a happy meal either.

Clearly, the hum was of a different lineage. In its formative years the hum had been influenced by watchful parents and an irritating older brother. As it grew up, it had experienced mediocrity in poetry and sport, failing to impress the fairer sex and the darker one. On a dark rainy night, some might mistake it for a guffaw and they wouldn’t have been way off the mark. “Hummmmm” he hummed again, hoping it would draw the attention of either a fellow Hummee or anyone who would be willing to give him a listen. Finding no Hummee rushing to his aide, Raam put a hand on his red cycle, as a show of support and escorted it as it creaked and rolled devotedly by his side.

His father had bought him the cycle from the monumentally prestigious store – Hanu’s Cycle shop. The owner of the shop had first shown them cycles from Belgium, Germany and other countries of questionable existence. His dad has smiled, unperturbed by the salesman’s pitch and Raam’s wide eyed coat-tugging every time a shiny new European cycle was pointed out.  The owner finally sighed a loser’s sigh and had shown them one made much closer home, and the red bike had never left Raam’s side since.

He mounted his steed with elan, and after a 5 second pause, his legs that pedalled, the pedals and the chain that rounded the wheel found synchrony. He rang the bell for effect, but its rusty sound only reminded him that he needed to take it back to Hanu for an overdue service. Ten minutes later he rounded the kerb near his house and made a dash for the finish. Screeeech

“Congratulations Raam, You are late again. If you start making this a habit, practice it with resolve, and if they decide to include it in the Olympics, you would make us so proud”

“Thank you Dad. I would love nothing more than to collect my medal and make a heart-warming speech thanking you”

Rebuttal completed, Raam trudged upstairs to his room, slammed the door shut and plonked himself on his bed. He had hoped an owl, partly grey, partly white would arrive soon with his letter of admission. He had hoped for it so much that he even left the window open one night. The pigeon that had relieved itself on his desk had left an amusing reminder of the folly of such hope. The window had stayed shut since, and his desk had been subjected to no further abuse from fluttery fiend.

Damnnnnnn whooose a sexxxxxxyyyy

“Hey, Whats up” said Raam. He always made sure to pick up phone calls before the singer got around to finishing the sentence. He suspected that letting the singer finish the song might coincide with the thwacking sound that would doubtless emanate when father’s hand met son’s back at above average speeds. He had no interest in hearing a thwack, but ringtones needed to be cool, that’s just the way things are, he concluded.

“Nothing much Raam, I just reached home after basketball. Do you want to head out for a bit?”

“In this weather? I was just at the park with a few friends of mine. Its really hot. Id rather not”

“I don’t mean head out Raam! I mean lets head out”. The last two words were said with so much stress that two junior spies on a spying mission would have spotted that the words ”head” and “out” were of significance. This code was luckily not lost on young Raam

“Aaah, head out we shall. Usual place at 8pm. I have a good feeling about this one”

“Sure. Bye Raam”

“Bye Lx”

Lx a.ka Lakshminarayana Subramaniam was a good friend. His name was not incredibly difficult on the tongue. But neither were the names of India’s biggest export – IT engineers in strange foreign lands like Fremont where Rajendran transmogrified into R-cat and Sivaramakrishnan dudified to S-dawg.  Lakshminarayana Subramaniam was Lx simply because he was a whiz at mathematics, and any self respecting algebra solver or worshiper of Fermats theorem would understand that x was central to mathematics. The letter and what it stands for is usually all that stands between any 10^th standard student and the elusive centum in the board exams. Raam was quite proud of the name he had given Laksminarayana. Lx sounded tough enough a name to announce to a pizza delivery guy to deserve some attention and an extra slice of pepperoni. It was also short enough to leave your mark in toilets, buses and on trees; the three favourite forms of writing paper for young lovers, ruffians and drug addicts.

Raam mumbled “Dad, I’m heading out to Lx’s place, Ill be back before sundown”,

“Sure raam, have fun, and don’t forget to practice for the Late-a-lympics! Hahahahahahohohohoho”

His father had been laughing at his own jokes more often than not, a product of senility with a heavy dose of caffeine, he concluded.  Raam set off on his bike, occasionally getting off his seat and powering his feet downward to gain momentum.

He loved the feeling of cycling. It was like flying, except there were wheels on the ground and flapping your hands like wings made you look slightly demented. In all other aspects it was exactly like flying! He made his way past 5^th cross, 4^th cross, allowed 3^rd cross to sneak past as a cute girl carrying tuition books fluttered by. Reaching 2^nd cross he concluded that the girl must have been cute enough to beat the sign for 3^rd vying for his limited teenage attention span. The abandoned plot was a breeding ground for pollen, weed and other forms of tropical vegetation that Sir Attenborough would have loved to explore. It was also the breeding ground for the boy’s secret hideaway. He swung the wicker gate open, noting that the light white thread that they had tied near the bottom was broken. He knew what that meant, either the Indian police force had finally caught up with their small detective outfit or his friend Lx had reached slightly earlier than expected. He sized up the first hypothesis as follows: The Indian police force while competent, extremely intelligent and comprised some of the toughest moustached men south of the Himalayas, they were also by prefix and nature Indian, which made them late.  He steamrolled past to conclude that the second hypothesis however improbable must be true, an epitaph to the late Holmes or was it Poirot or was it Holmes

Ram exclaimed to his general-in-arms, “Hey Lx, whats up dawg, hows it hanging L Man, whats the word XL”. Lx replied with equal aplomb and weighted enthusiasm “Hey Raam”.

The boys had been classmates since as long as they could remember, and their memory stretched as many years back as they had birthdays and as many years back as they had not got up to watch the Republic Day Parade on the telly. A cursory glance by a less informed stranger, which is the level of information most strangers have, would have concluded that the two boys could not be friends.

One was average looking and hummed a lot, messed up hair, grungy clothes and grungier demeanour.

The other, tall, fair and handsome, the stuff face-creams should be made of and the top buzzwords on any marriage website of decent repute.

Raam, the one that hummed faced his friend Lx, the one that was handsome.

They glared at each other with unsaid brotherly friendship, that is unbreakable till broken and is carved in stone through years of broken noses, dusty cricket and sharing ice-cream in new unhygienic ways that their mothers were oblivious to by choice.

“I came here as fast as I could”, gushed Raam. Patting his cycle for effect, and allowing his panting to be more audible than the panting itself would have wanted. “I know you did, shall we enter our secret hideaway” said Lx

Raam declared with authority, “Sure, allow me to lead the way. It has been a while since we entered our secret hideaway. I hope the roots haven’t grown through it!”

“Sure Raam, to the secret hideaway!!” boomed Lx

Raam shook his fist at Lx threateningly and declared “Lx….if you say the words secret or hideaway in any particular order, either one by one or one after another or in reverse or even use the letters in that word one more time…..”

“Sorry mate. I will make sure to keep it a secret”, Cough, “Hi”, Cough , “D”, Cough , “Away..we go?”

The two boys carefully held back the wooden boards that fortressed the impregnably rickety wooden shack. Raam scurried in first with Lx following close behind. Bumping into Raam’s posterior, Lx straightened himself up and flicked the switch flooding the room with light.