An apology, a promise and Christopher

I am very sorry to have stopped the blog for some time now. I had a chat with JC in the meanwhile. There are too many incidents, too many characters, so numerous, yet so significant that one is amazed how many people and events have influenced us in these forty two years of existence. I am at a threshold in the blog now. I had talked about 7th Standard and I will now be leaving Wadi for Shahabad – in the blog. But let me tell you, the transition from Phase I to Phase II of my life in the blog is proving to be much more difficult than it was in real life. Have I missed someone? Have I left out anything? Should I have talked about this – or perhaps omitted mentioning that? As I sit brooding, characters and events rise like ghostly figures from the mist of forgotten yesteryears. It is like random flecks of memories floating in and out of consciousness. Characters like Khapate, Malleshappa, S R Iyer, Anuradha Ramiah, events, which could have been rumours, whose whiff could inadvertently wreak havoc in someone’s life somewhere, but interesting rumours nevertheless. The blog which started as a reminder of my life to my own self has acquired a new character, all its own, and is asking me these questions. It is, as all parents know, difficult, when what started out as a sperm, meeting an egg, grows up into a strapping young man or a smart young lady and asks you questions for which you have no straightforward answer. Call it the writer’s block, but I shall overcome. Tommorrow is another day. There will be a brand new post tomorrow.

Christopher Anil Rao, Director, Goodrich Aviation, Bangalore, had come to Delhi. He took some time off to meet me in the lobby of the Maurya Sheraton Hotel. Sounds impressive doesn’t it? But deep inside, he turned out to be plain good old Chris. Warmer and more mellowed with age. He got me to speak to Ataur Rehman over phone. Repeat previous sentence again for Ataur. Deep under we from Wadi and Shahabad and Gulbarga will all be the same, such was the influence of the soil. Whether in a pub in Bangalore or in the lobby of a Five star hotel in Delhi or elsewhere, we still retain those basic amalgam of characters – Lingayat, Muslim, Lambada, whatever – which has made us what we are.