‘Not as much as you. You sleep at ten, right?’ I said.
‘This has woken me up,’ uncle said, pointing me to his drink. ‘Want another
one?’
‘Uncle, I have to find an auto. It’s late.’
‘Why don’t you just stay here?’ he said.
‘Excuse me?’ I said.
‘Yes. I’ll give you a set of nightclothes. Mine should fit you,’ he said.
I had past-life trauma of wearing my girlfriend’s father’s clothes. This can’t be
a good idea, I thought.
Before I could respond, uncle had poured us another round of drinks.
“Change the music if you want,’ he said.
I rifled through Ananya’s tapes in the drawer. I found a Pink Floyd album and
couldn’t resist. The alcohol demanded Floyd.
The long, trippy opening note of Shine On You Crazy Diamond played in the
room.
Uncle tapped a foot gently to the slow beats. I wondered if he would be able to
handle so much alcohol. I longed to smoke. No, don’t think about smoking, my
mind advised. Don’t think about being with Ananya. Think about the worst-case
emergency plan. What if uncle threw up or fainted? How do you call an ambulance in
Chennai? How would you explain it to Ananya’s mother?
However, uncle seemed to be having a good time. He sat on the sofa, and put
his legs on the table. ‘One thing Verma told me I will never forget,’ he said.
I nodded.
Verma said, ‘Swaminathan, do you know why they make you deputy GM and
sent me to become GM?”
‘Why?’ I said, too drunk to show restraint.
‘He said it was because South Indians are top class number two officers, but
horrible in number one positions.’ Uncle shook his head as he took a big sip.
Even in his drunkenness, I could see his pain. I didn’t know what to say.
‘Do you agree?’ he asked.
nora
(Nora)
#1