I left Hubli in 1990 to take up assignment in Chennai, my birthplace. Exactly after two decades, I had been to the place on an invitation of my batchmate’s daughter’s marriage. The only change was that I left the place as a bachelor then and returned this time with my family. I hold the four-year stint in this non-descript sleepy town very close to my heart for giving me the best-ever friends, for tuning my character and attitude and for teaching the basics of office culture.
My memories sprinted back to those fun-filled days when most of my colleagues were either bachelors or living off families. The twin Kannada syllables, bekku and sakku (want and enough) which I always mis-spelt to end up in a chaotic note, were to stay my bête noire for quite some time. The one-room quarters I had to share with a Christian and a Muslim hailing from different places had enough time for each one of us to profess one’s own faith.
Amruth Theatre which hosted beautiful English movies was the famous weekend jaunt for us. A Kamal-starrer screened for the noon show which I went to see bunking office hours produced a virtual sideshow as I came face-to-face with my boss at the interval where both of us preferred to pretend as strangers. Later when he called me to explain for absenting during the office hours for which I rehearsed quite hard in anticipation for a break even, I sought his pardon by admitting per se that I had been to the cinema without his permission and added a rider that I happened to see his Bajaj scooter too being parked in the same bay as my bicycle.
To my utter surprise, a riotous laughter spluttered from him which became an instant talk in the office, for everybody was scared of my future, given his tough authoritarianism. Of course, the bonhomie lasted a few days only until a football match in which I literally pushed him down while grabbing the ball which resulted in a few stitches in his jaw and a fortnight’s bed rest and this apart, an edgy cold war for ever.
The Marathi dramas which were known to play live romantic duets and which I frequented for their hilarious and sensual screenplays turned nightmarish in one late night show, culminating in a police raid for staging obscene movies. I had to turn approver in the case which resulted in the cancellation of permit for the theatre itself. An unforgettable day of sorts was when I got caught unexpectedly in the crossfire in the infamous Idgadh maidan conflict and ended up in police detention for over an hour and got released at the instance of an influential member of Hubli Tamil Sangam — the margazhi utsav in the early hours was well organised by the sangam — in which I was a member by default.
My encounter with a smart police constable near Durgat Bail who caught me in the wee hours for riding a cycle without headlamp was to linger as the most hilarious bits till date. When I contradicted him that I needed no headlamp as the street was glowing with bright lights, he complimented my stance with a clever response by deflating both cycle tyre tubes stating that the atmosphere was full of air and I could squeeze in some air from it. I wasn’t less witty for him even as he demanded money by suggesting that the main street had four to five banks to take as much money as he wanted. He burst into laughter and let me go off with a stern warning not to repeat.