The buttermilk was no more.

The Outcast:
“No da. You carry on.” His friend had asked him to come to the auditorium for the inter-college dance competition. Crowds rarely excited him. He was on his way from the library to have lunch. The route was empty. Presumably, most of the crowd had gone to cheer for “namba college da!” He wondered where his roommate was. He figured that the roommate would have gone to the competition as well. He made his way to the canteen only to realize that the whole place was messy. Someone had spilled buttermilk all over the place. Some of the guys were standing by the sides watching the spectacle. The canteen owner was wiping up the place. He inquired as to what happened. The guys informed him that some student had found a cockroach in the buttermilk. More importantly, the canteen was closed for the day. He would have to make do with the snack shop nearby. He was both hungry and furious. He reached the shop to find a long queue. He stood there cursing for a few minutes. “Thambi, what do you want?” inquired the shop keeper. As he was about to order the phone rang. It was his roommate.
“What brilliant timing asshole. What do you want? I am in a queue here….”
“Thambi, there are people standing behind you..seekarama sollunga.”
“Dai naaye…..solluda…you’re in the room seri…..not feeling wella….dai iruda…i’ll call you back.. Bye..later.”
He paid for his food and started walking back. He noticed a fallen figure with a cycle and a broken bat on the road. On closer inspection he realized that it was one of his friends. He approached him.
“what happened da?”
“dai some guy dashed against my cycle and ran off da.. Idiot.”
“Why didn’t you call for help?”
“I did. Tried calling everyone on the phone including my roommate. No one seems to be responding. Don’t know where everyone’s gone.”
He smirked. The dance competition of course. He helped his friend up and guided him towards the hostel.

The Spectator
He was sitting on the bus with his friend. “Why are you going so early? The dance doesn’t even start for another hour or so.” asked his friend. He replied that he was going early to get the proceedings started. He was holding a bag full of paper balls and rockets to throw at the other college dancers. He quizzed if the friend would also be joining later. His friend responded,
“Ya da. I’ll just have lunch and come. You carry on.”
“Hmm OK. Bring as much people as you can. We need more supporters.”
“Theriyum da. I tried to call my roommate also.”
“Yaar avana. I’ll try calling him also.”
“Haha. Good luck with that. The guy is a total loner.”

His friend got off the bus near the canteen. Soon he too reached the auditorium. The place was bustling with activity. He noticed that the teams had arrived and were going towards the backstage. Curiously the main dancer from his own college was missing. The team was furious. He walked past them and joined his friends at one of the corners. He remembered to call his friend’s roommate from the bus. He dialed the number and waited for the answer.
“Hello.”
“Dai, it’s me da…why don’t you join us in the auditorium here? It’ll be fun.”
“No da. You carry on.”
(His friend’s roommate hung up.)
He spent some time checking out the new arrivals. This was one of the advantages of coming early. After a while the competition began. The auditorium was fully packed by then. People were requested to switch off their phones or at least put it in silent mode.
His phone rang. It was his own roommate. He last remembered him leaving the room to play cricket in his cycle. Too late. The crowd roared. He didn’t pick up the call. The curtains raised and the show began….

The Performer
“Thanks da for accompanying me back to the room.” He had found his friend screaming at the canteen owner. There was spilled buttermilk nearby. He calmed him down and bought him back to his room. “Can you imagine, a bloody cockroach in the buttermilk! I just hope the canteen owner is grilled by the college folk and kicked out.” He listened impatiently. He was getting late for the dance. His friend realized it. He said apologetically, “Sorry da. I know you have to leave for the dance. Hell, I wanted to cheer for you. Would have come there after eating. Wait, I’ll call my roommate. He can give me company. The friend called his roommate.
“Dai machan I…”
“What brilliant timing asshole. What do you want? I am in a queue here….”
“I..
“Dai naaye…..solluda…”
“I am back in the room….”
“you’re in the room seri…
“Not feeling well da…”
“not feeling wella….”
“Ya what happened was….”
“dai iruda…i’ll call you back.. Bye..later.”

His friend was embarrassed to look at him. He told him to leave and that he would somehow manage. He checked his watch. The show would begin soon. He made a dash for it. He was near the canteen road when he checked his watch again to ensure he had enough time. In doing so, he failed to notice the guy in the cycle from the right. BHAM!! They crashed and he landed just beside the cycle. A cricket bat lay broken next to him. He had no time. Pain would have to wait. He got up and resumed running without looking back. He reached the auditorium backstage. The compere was already out on the stage and he could hear the words as he entered, “…..atleast put it in silent mode.” His teammates were furious at him.
“DAI BAADU!!!”
He changed his dress quickly.
“WHAT HAPPENED? WHY ARE YOU LATE?”
“Doesn’t matter. Is there any beer nearby?”
“Ya. We kept some for the after-show celebrations.”
“I need it now.”
He took a swig and walked out as the curtains raised….

T

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This entry was posted in Ananda Vikatan Rejects... and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The buttermilk was no more.

  1. Non-linear story-telling!!!
    Uber-geth!!!

    Reminds me of pulp fiction…:)

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