I went on my weekly ‘cruise’ to Mysore on my last Sunday in
Hosahalli (July 22nd), and it was quite a strange day of events. I
had just alighted at the main bus station and crossed the road to find an
internet café, when a beggar girl asked me for my one-third bottle of mango
juice. I had barely had time to process the request when she quickly snatched
it out of my hand, and for a moment I pondered whether it was something to be
angry over or not. Later, around noon, I went over to Mysore Railway station to
book my tickets for my travels in the north, and the euphoria of finally having
them in my hand kept me in an excited mood for the rest of the day.
Walking back towards the bus station, I started talking to a
Sri Lankan stoner-head called Joseph who was encroachingly trying to help me
find my way. I told him several times I could find my own way, but he walked along
with me presumably to try and goad some money out of me. He insisted he just
wanted to talk, and offered to sell me weed a bunch of times, and I decided to
just go with the flow while watching out for my pockets. I was trying to find a
place to eat lunch near the bus station, and upon Joseph’s continued insistence
walked past the place I found non-vegetarian food at last weekend. I told him I
wasn’t going to go into one of the pricey hotels he suggested, and he pointed
instead to an average-priced main road restaurant that turned out to have
excellent mutton biryani. I was now fairly sure he was merely waiting for an
opportunity to score money, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt
and offer him lunch; he had a friendly (albeit stoned) air around him, and it
doesn’t hurt to be nice to people. Besides, company is better than eating
alone.
He ended up pretending that he wasn’t hungry and that he was
getting his food packed to screw me out of the Rs. 120 it cost. For some reason
I just let it slide, giving a mental sigh as I walked away and hoping that his
bad conscious would catch up with him one day.
I stopped at Jairam’s house on the way back at Jakkahalli,
and walked from there to VTCL in the early night. Halfway back to the school, I
passed by a bunch of guys standing by a car, one drumming on the carhood and
most of the others dancing in tune to it. One of the guys called out to me and
said “Hi we’re high, come dance with us if you want to”. I walked on with a
smile but told them I’d join in next time – I just needed to get home before
nightfall – and wished them a good evening.
A little further on, a very tipsy guy walked up to me and
shook my hand, asking where I was going. I told him, and a huge smile broke out
on his face as he thanked me and walked away. Such a strange day indeed, in a
surrealistic good way.
