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Thursday, March 2, 2023

'Yours Untruly' Prof.Suhas Patwardhan

I just can't erase this incident from the canvas of my memory even after a long span of more than five decades.As teachers Mr.Madhukar and I had worked together in a far off remote country side secondary school in Maharashtra.Both of us were new to the job.Naturally we used to compliment each other to boost up our morale.

     Both of us being bachelors we walked together,talked together,ate together  ,laughed together.We lived together both in sunshine and rain.

Not wonder staff members referred to us as twins.

    Our happy and envious association, however,came to an abrupt end as I was selected for a  job in a nationalised bank.I left the place for ever having

shifted to an equally remote and interior location.Seperated by hundreds of kilometres and unlike today without any means of fast communication were virtually dead to each other.Until one morning.My incoming mail,an inland letter by post,came from my long forgotten friend.Initial excitement, curiosity and joy soon evaporated giving way to apathy and indifference as my eyes devoured the contents.

    My friend had begged -- it's his word,no exaggeration intended -- for a sum of Rs.1000/- .As a bachelor  banker with no household responsibility as such it was a paltry amount for me or to use the banking parlance " rupees one thousand only."

He had promised to repay the loan, the word he used , within a month.That was a gentleman' s word as good as a promissory note. As long time had passed since our seperation it was a matter of 'to be or not to be'.The choice,the decision, either way was mine, exclusively mine.I was answerable to none.

     To be dependable friend or an unreliable colleague ? For the next couple of days and nights too, I struggled within myself. And eventually deciding against lending a helping hand. If need arose,I conveniently convinced myself,I would put up a strong an ever familiar defence well established at that time. " Which letter ? I didn't receive any."

      The pieces -- that was the callous treatment meted out to the letter -- were unceremoniously consigned to the nearest dustbin.

       The intervening years brought me to the city of Mumbai and the suburban train journey became a part and parcel of my daily routine.One fine evening, perhaps an ominous one,I received a bolt from the blue.To my astonishment the long forgotten friend happened to be travelling in the same compartment.

" You are Mr... ? '

I nodded instinctively.

"You might have received my letter."

The uncomfortable question was followed on expected lines.

      By now the atmosphere in the train grew too suffocating to utter a single syllable.The spontaneous overflow of of powerful emotions enforced me to recollect the quotation I had frequently used in my college days to spice up my essay.

   " It is good to have money and the things money can buy but it's equally good too to check up once in a while to make sure that you haven't lost the things money cannot buy."

Self condemned and full of remorse I literally jumped onto the next station and hiding my face vanished into the faceless crowd..

(MA ( English Literature,1976)

University of Bombay. ( Now Mumbai)



4 comments:

  1. This is an almost universal predicament. Mr Patwardhan has captured it with searing honesty. It is a heartwarming description of the choices one has to make in life.

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  2. Dear Shri Suhasji,well worded incident....your command over the language is marvelous .. I disagree with those who have been insisting for local language in the judiciary at High Court level.. such a proposal would be against the interest of the students who have been learning well and have attained the capacity to speak and write well in English..Thanks for your mission 'Enjoy English learning'Regards.Take care.

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    1. Patwardhan thanks you for your appreciative response.


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