Characters in films are often inspired by real people. However, sometimes it so happens that a character from the reel manifests in real life as well.
It so happened that I was driving towards Shimla from Nahan when I stopped at a roadside tea stall near Chandigarh to grab a bite. There I caught sight of a handsome middle-aged man speaking to the stall owner, his baritone clearly audible to everybody in the vicinity. His bus had broken down and he desperately wanted a lift up to Shimla.
I recognised him at a glance, he was none other than Manu Gupta, the irritating blabbermouth from 2011 movie, Chalo Dilli, essayed by the versatile Vinay Pathak. Impulsively, I offered him a lift and in no time he was cheerfully sitting beside me, sprouting a steady stream of chatter. In a little while, I realised that we were reliving a scene from the movie, only instead of Mihika, played by Lara Dutta, I was the victim of his endless blabber.
He would start a full-blown commentary at everything that came in sight. As we zoomed pass an election rally, he immediately got fresh ammunition. “In politicians ka bhi koi dharm imaan nahin hota!” he began, pontificating on the subject for a few kilometers. The conversation then seamlessly segued into corruption in society.
A billboard displaying the poster of the latest movie triggered a monologue on the quality of movies of yore. His mouth seemed to be a pause-less cassette player. However, to his credit, his comments were witty and knowledgeable.
{{/usCountry}}A billboard displaying the poster of the latest movie triggered a monologue on the quality of movies of yore. His mouth seemed to be a pause-less cassette player. However, to his credit, his comments were witty and knowledgeable.
{{/usCountry}}By the time we crossed Chandigarh and entered Kalka, I was exasperated by his constant chatter. Hoping to dam the cascade, I turned on the CD player.
Reaching common ground
I had always been a lover of classical Hindustani music and only had those CDs in my car. A chota khayal rendition in Raga Yaman had just started when my co-passenger exclaimed, “Wah! Wah! I simply adore his voice. Pure bliss!”
My incredulity must have been apparent on my face because he blurted out, “Arre bhai saab! It is the inimitable Bhimsen Joshi, who else? His melodious voice always soaks my mind and soul!” His acquaintance with classical music astonished me and he steadily rose in my esteem.
At Dharampur, we made a pit stop at Gyani Ka Dhaba. While ordering food, I asked my companion if he would like some beer. He eagerly responded in the affirmative. After finishing our food and beer, I took out my wallet and cast an oblique glance towards my partner, half expecting him to offer to pay. But no protests came as I settled the bill as he was busy comparing the voices of Pandit Jasraj and Bhimsen Joshi.
I had yet again revised my opinion about my new travel buddy by the time we resumed our drive. Now, he seemed to be a parasitic freeloader who fooled people through sycophancy and smooth talk. For the rest of the journey, he remained unusually silent most of the time, perhaps lost in the euphoria induced by the beer and music. I dropped him at his destination in Shimla and forgot about the episode.
A friend in need
But this narrative does not end here. It reached an interesting climax a few months ago. We were living at our winter sojourn in Panchkula when the second wave of Covid swooped in. My wife was severely infected. It was a very difficult time with the blood oxygen in her body dipping to alarming levels and no vacancy available in any hospital.
I tried hard to procure an oxygen concentrator but without success. I dropped a message in all the WhatsApp groups stating my desperate requirement. One evening, when I returned to my flat, I found an oxygen concentrator delivered anonymously. There was a note attached to it with a phone number, requesting to be informed when the need for the machine was fulfilled. I immediately dialled the number to offer my gratitude.
After a brief pause, a familiar voice boomed from the other side: “Perhaps, I have slipped from your memory, bhai saab! But how can I forget that blissful drive with beer and Bhimsen Joshi on the serpentine road to Shimla! No, you don’t have to thank me or pay me anything. I have just earned that beer as well as that rapturous ride today after 10 years!”
The writer is a Shimla-based freelance contributor