Tuesday, August 4, 2009

You ain't whom you are

When was the last time that you have had this experience of someone looking at you in a Town Bus or in a Shopping outlet and jumping out of their shoes to shout, "Hello! Mr. Wrong Name, don't you recognize me?" I am sure that you would be perplexed and would start doubting your memory power. There would be occassional instances when by you would start worrying about your vulnerabilities towards Korsakoff's syndrome or any other memory-related problems that a Hollywood movie hero would undergo after the Iraqi war. The blame would be weighed on your surplus dead brain cells or your aversions for greens as ingredient in daily lunch. While you are evaluating all your unfavorable stars, Mr. Stranger would be grinning at you with out caring about his stained front teeth.

I have had many such mistaken-identities (or at least that is what I believe). I would share one of the whole bizarre experiences.

"You-ain't-Mohammed" moments:

I was travelling from Nagercoil to Vallioor (Tamilnadu, India) with my friend Feroz Meeran back during one of my school days. A rotund man boarded the bus in one of the intermittent stops and upon his entry his drifting eyes rested on us. There was no second elapsed before I watched him sitting besides me.

"Enna Sundar! Thoorama?" (Sundar! Where are you travelling to?)

"Err.. I'm Mohammed. Do I know you Sir? I think you are mistaking me for someone else" - I was sheepishly recalling whether he is the man to whom I have lent my pen on the other day in the bank.

The man would now chuck out a divine smile on his dark facet. And with a breath of exhaustion would tell "You possess the same wit as your brother"

Those words made me desperate further as I was already rummaging around for my missing identity. Who would be my brother in the world of this stranger?

I briefly looked at Feroz who was looking bewildered to see me as Sundar. I lifted his finger and placed on his scalp to scratch like me for answers and he complied. The following hour, I would be knocked down with numerous inappropriate questions like the TV anchor asking in all reality shows as below,

"Did your father manage to sell that red banana bunch in Nagercoil market?"

"What did the Vet doctor told about the diseased calf?"

"Inform your brother that Velu Nadar is renting out his Mahindra Tractors"

And yadayadayada...

Little did he wait for any of my answers? But all the time he was talking, I have noticed his hand resting on my thighs. For God's sake, the bus has reached Vallioor where we were supposed to get down. The stranger did not retire with his questions and asked me in hurry.

"Enna thambi! Inga erangudheenga?" (Why are you getting down here?)

"Mmm...mattuku punnaku vanga poranungo" (I'm going to buy oil cake for the cows).

2 Observations:

pawan said...

That's a f=good piece of writing!
The last part is hilarious!
Oilcakes for the cows! :P

Musings of a lonely traveler said...

Hi Pawan! thanks for stopping by :)

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