Elango was not your ordinary sailor. He was fat; too fat for his seniors from Leading Telegraphists (Rank in the navy) to the Captain not to lecture him on getting his weight reduced to a decent level. He was not bothered too much about his resembling a rotund duck that had drunk all the water around it. Indeed, drink, particularly beer – never a single bottle – was the primary reason for Elango’s ever increasing girth.
He would grin sheepishly at anyone speaking on his expanding body. It is not that he did not try to get himself into shape; he ran, sweated it out with thimbles, swam but just could not stop drinking.
One day, five of us friends went to see a matinee show in the Strand Cinema in Colaba: To Sir with Love, a film that would find a place in anybody’s best movies’ list. The sky had been overcast when we went in to the theatre. When we came out after the movie, it was drizzling. We had to stand somewhere under the shade to escape the rain. What better place than Martin’s Restaurant opposite the cinema?
I do not know now but 45 years ago, you were guaranteed a fulfilling evening snack in the place. Elango was particularly fond of the pork vindaloo you got there. We ordered it along with some steamed rice. When it arrived, we pounced upon it with our hands rather than using the spoon and fork the gentleman in the restaurant had put on the table. As it turned out, that was the last time that Elango was going to taste the meat; in fact, any meat.
There was a girl with an old woman sitting two tables away from us. Beautiful was not the word that would have crossed your mind on beholding her; she was not that. There was, however, something about her that made you steal a second glance at her. Elango was sitting on the chair right opposite her. She was eating whatever she was eating with gusto.
We were only about ten minutes into clearing the plate of its contents by gobbling up what there was when the girl got up, paid her bill and went out to join her companion who had already exited and was standing under the sunshade of one of the row of shops in the street. There was no way they could venture out in the rain.
For one thing, the woman was old and frail and looked as if she would catch a cold and follow it up with high temperature if she as much as caught a single raindrop on her head which only had thinning strands of hair. Even a more compelling reason for them not to walk into the rain was the girl’s dress. It was too skin-fitting to get wet all over. She would not dare do that. Not all men are decent. Some can cause more harm with their eyes than with any physical activity.
I am not too sure if Rupert Psmith had ever given Elango some tips on the art and science of courtship. Taking a leaf out of Leave it to Psmith, Elango lost no time to take in the scene, told us to wait, ran out into the falling rain and disappeared. I went out and saw him turning the corner though I did not know where he was headed. The girl could not stop laughing at the fat boy whose limbs were doing dance steps of their own when he ran.
Within a very short time, Elango was running towards us as fast as he could which was not really fast. I saw that he had an umbrella with him. He slowed down as he approached us and without a word, offered the umbrella to the girl. The girl was taken aback and did not know what to do or say.
The old woman obviously believed in making hay while the sun shined; or to put it in context, grabbing an umbrella when it rained. She almost snatched the umbrella from Elango’s hand, stepped out on the road before nudging the girl to follow her even as she was opening the umbrella.
The girl gave Elango a smile and ran a step or two to catch up with the old woman. We noted that they went south towards the Radio Bhuvan. Elango gave them 10 seconds, followed them, stopped at the corner and watched. The two women jostling each other under the umbrella indeed went into the Radio Bhuvan.
Elango stood there in the rain, thought for a while and returned to us. We departed and walked towards Lion Gate. The rain-washed buildings lining the road on either side were not very different from the stately mansions on the streets of London we just saw in the movie. The grey clouds were getting darker in the evening sky and the buildings were glowing, bathed in the light emanating from the lamps all around.
Within a week Elango enrolled himself in the Radio Bhuvan for a telex operator course. Was there any need to do that? Absolutely not. But, why not? Wasn’t Gilda studying at the institute?
In what you can safely call a miracle, Elango shed his weight in a record time. He gave up meat, fish and eggs and shunned everything that could be called alcohol. What the chidings, mockery and his own determination could not achieve, love did. Easily. Such is the power of love. He visibly bloomed into a dashing hero in the mould of someone like Dean Martin, as handsome a man as you could imagine. Rupert Psmith would have heartily approved of his conduct in the matter.
Those of you who run into Geoffrey Raymond of A Damsel in Distress fame – the one who had acquired not only wealth but also a highly obese physical frame and a triple-chin visage – might want to tap him on the shoulder and quote to him the real life example of Elango. For all you know, scales may fall from his eyes and he might eventually end up winning the heart of someone in the mould of Lady Maud Marsh.
The duration of the short course was sufficient for Elango to woo the Eva/Maud of his life. Woo he did and went steady with her. They made a fine young couple.
As of now, those of you who happen to visit Goa might as well find them relaxing in a luxuriously furnished family room, relishing their favourite tissue restorative and enjoying the prattle of the tender feet of their grandchildren around them.
About the author:
Asokan Ponnusamy joined the navy at the tender age of 16. Had it not been for the libraries on board the ships, he would not have read books in the English language which woke up the writer in him. Simultaneously, he was enamored by rock music which he got to hear on the ships. Some fifteen years back, he wrote a book ‘500 Popping Questions, Rocking Answers’ on rock, pop, country and folk music. In 2019, he wrote his second book ‘The Funnyman Who Was Also A Sailor’. Besides unleashing his creative outpourings upon unsuspecting people like us, he also undertakes freelance and ghost writing occasionally.
His permission to blog this piece here is gratefully acknowledged. Yours truly confesses to have taken some liberties with the original text provided by him.
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