I was reading the newspaper in the morning when my three year old son Murli came to my bed, eager to wish me his newly learnt “good morning”. Murli is a sharp young boy and he loves playing games on his computer. He is quite a replica of my own childhood, a quick learner and a practitioner of his knowledge with immediate effect. A dull Sunday morning, with the clock making the mirror image of an ‘L’, and the news had nothing eye-catching in store. I reminded myself of the commitment with Sharma for a game of golf. He is the typical sales guy who rose in ranks by whatever means he knew and could employ. In short, the word ethics doesn’t exist in his dictionary.
Oh! I forgot to mention, my name is Ganesh, K.G. I keep my name abbreviated out of preference, as my three year old is still unable to count the alphabets in my full name. Besides, the name also adds some air of dignity to my thirty three years of experience in life as people of the management are always amazed by abbreviations.
I was about to rise from the bed when the phone gave a small buzz. A missed call; had to be Sharma. I picked up my cell-phone and called him back.
“Good Morning, Sharmaji”, I sounded pleasant even to myself.
“Bhaisaab, I thought you must be sleeping that’s why I gave you a buzz. I hope you haven’t forgotten our appointment for today.” Enthusiastic, thy name is Sharma.
“Of course not, I was just getting ready.” I knew what was about to come next.
“Bhaisaab, If you please don’t mind, would you pick me up on your way. My car is making a lot of noise and I have called the mechanic. If you take the Lajpat Rai road my house will be en route.” Slimy bastard, it is eight extra miles that way.
“No problem Sharmaji, will be there at eleven. Sharp” I keep the phone quickly before he made any more ‘If you please don’t mind’ demands. Its not that I am against the sales people, I am more a person of refined logic and rationality. I am a senior manager, finance, at Dave industries Limited.
I took a leisurely bath in my newly fitted Jacuzzi to beat the heat and exhaustion of the week while Sudha prepared her Sunday morning special breakfast. Sudha, my wife, has been my perfect support in the five years of our married life and she has been extra special to me on Sundays: cooking the perfect meals and granting me full liberty to relax after the draining weekdays. A lady with little demands and completely devoted to our small family of three; in short, a typical Indian housewife. In no time, I wore my golf muftis and shouted:
“Sudhi, my golf cap and sunglasses”, unable to recollect where I kept them last week.
“They are in the drawer of your study table ..... and come fast, your breakfast is ready”, As always she is on the spot. I am sometimes amazed by Sudha’s ability to find things that I keep almost hidden from my own self like confidential office documents and keys, high value cheques; although, she never tries to look through my belongings.
I rushed downstairs towards the dining table. My glass of fresh juice was waiting while Sudha made fresh puris for me. Right next to the juice tumbler was kept an envelope with ink blotted all over.
“When did this come?”,I asked
“It came yesterday afternoon and you came late last night after your office party. I thought I will give it to you later”, She said smiling. “Open it after you’ve had your breakfast or all my efforts will go in vein.”
“All right”, I said, and started sipping from my glass of juice. The ink blot, however, had told me who the correspondent was: My old friend and companion ‘D’ and it had been seven years since I last heard from him.