Homecoming

The bartender had pulled up the ‘Closed’ signs, hastily emptied the ash trays and grudgingly began mopping the counter table, being more convincing in his efforts when he encountered those annoying besmirched hardened rim marks. These familiar routines sent out a billow of people through the exits, leaving the ones who had swilled and the ones who were established regulars at the bar. He looked across to find ARAVIND staring at his glass pensively, and one look at the empty bottle and the full glass drove home the fact that a long night was to ensue.
“Trouble with the lady, boss?” the bartender asked, whilst drying the glasses
“Nah. A jeweler could help me out, not a bartender if that was the case” quipped Aravind.
“I think a lawyer would cost you less than a jeweler” he said, repressing a chuckle.
He looked at the clock and let out a gasped sigh. He looked back at Aravind and asked in a more sincere tone this time “Surely you’ve got something on your mind. And almost nothing in your hand” he said, pouring some more of the poison in the empty glass.
Aravind didn’t protest. He started in his usual forthcoming nature “It’s probably my age is doing a number on me, but these days I keep wondering whatever happened to a few people back in India that I’ve not met for over 2 decades now, like my first outside-family acquaintance in kindergarten, or the high school bully, the one whom I did my assignments with, the one who first convinced me drinking was no sin..”
“Believe me you sometimes don’t want to know. I wonder which one is harder to digest; a friend’s success or a friend’s failure” said the bartender, almost as if he was the supreme authority in these matters.
“But you got these people around you, Gary. You don’t see them every day, but they’re here and there and around at weddings and funerals; in the casket sometimes maybe, but they’re there. There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely” said Aravind clearly talking to Gary, the friend more than Gary, the bartender.
“At least you enjoy your Friday nights and your Saturday dinners. Surely, I have more on my mind on a Friday than the President” said Gary, still not out of his bartender clothes or shoes.
“Yeah. So you let the wagon slip on Monday mornings as opposed to Friday nights” said Aravind as if it was a bout of realization.
He went on. “Anyway, I know everybody says this, but when I was growing up, it was a funny time. Kids everywhere else wanted to be firefighters and astronauts and what not. But, I grew up in a time; when we wanted to be scientists and cricketers, cause one our parents told us was glorious, the other we knew it was.”
“You thought being a scientist was glorious?” he said and it took a moment for Aravind to comprehend the jest. Americans found cricket amusing.
His memory and emotions were livid. He wasn’t stopping. “There’s a funny story from childhood. When I was 5 or 6, I think, I liked to eat mud. Once I swallowed a few melon seeds inside, and my mother told me that if I swallowed any soil and had water, a tree would grow within me. I believed her instantly and never really unbeleived the story till I was 14 I think.
“I found out about Santa when I was 10. That’s almost stupid. Believe me, 20 years on and I still can’t differentiate if one is drunk or just stupid” he said, in nonchalant banter, a little bluntly.
Being a bartender had taught Gary to be a good listener. But with Aravind, he spoke without restraint. He said “You know, childhood for me wasn’t great. My mother died early, and for 10 years I got beaten up for not doing my home work and I hated school. Adolescence was painful, and one day sitting at the bar counter, when a self-made casual recipe of vodka, whiskey and ginger went well with the others sitting alongside, I had decided that I was at the wrong side of the counter table.”
Aravind gave a smile and nodded his head. “It wasn’t like that for us at all. I actually don’t know who, how and when it was decided that this is how my career would go, but it was all too natural. I don’t think even at a subconscious level I was having second thoughts. I had no choice, and frankly I didn’t need choices then. ”
Aravind now began extrapolating it to a bigger picture. He said “But you know, on the other hand, people there were so diversely opinionated and sometimes catastrophically passionate that almost no building could be built, no law passed, no book written and no woman kissed without a word of protest.”
“Oh yeah. The last one is quite famous. I am familiar with India’s antagonism to sex” said Gary.
Aravind protested. “No way Indians hate it. You can’t hate it and still be producing in billions. It is strange though that explicit sex would be on display in most of our temples while the movies would face severe rebuke. It’s just one of our taboos”
Gary began drawing conclusions. “You know I’ve always thought a country’s progress can be judged by the quality of its pornography and the average tip a drink fetches in the country, and on both counts I’m proud to be an American.”
“I think it should be measured by how bad the bartender jokes are, and America’s doing no good.” He said, hoping it was a reasonable comeback.
He went on. “But really, I think a good measure would be how civil a country’s middle class are, how unassuming the rich are, and how hopeful the poor are. And the country I grew up in, I can’t be sure really. Because it’s so strange that on one hand we serve food so generously, and on the other hand we are such miser and lousy tippers; on one hand we are disgusted with corruption and bribery, on the other hand we are the first to resort to it.”
“We have a God for cleanliness, but our streets and consciences are similarly filthy. Money is not believed to be a virtue, but the first thing everybody does at a wedding is counting jewellery pieces on the bride. Smoking and drinking are portrayed as a sin, but India is the largest consumer of whisky and cigarettes.”
“Every place has this kind of thing. It’s not unusual” said Gary.
“No. It is quite unusual. For example, here in the US they slow down when the traffic light turns yellow, but in India, we accelerate. In every matter, you’ll find that there is no right or wrong. There are just shades of grey.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought haven’t you?” he asked, not in a mood for jests.
“Everything that you hear about India is true. And almost all the time, the opposite is also true. And yes. I have given this some thought. I miss those days. Some of those old memories are beginning to get to me like the time in college when someone was dared to come in a superman costume and when the professor stood appalled, the guy actually spent ten minutes convincing him that the garments re-ordering was a genuine slip-up”
This got Gary thinking. He had to ask this “Boss. Are you actually considering moving back or something? Or is this is just a phase, where you go on a vacation and realize that home is good enough just for a vacation?”
Aravind had his answer ready “No. I think this is the real deal. I think the country that you like is the country that frustrates you the most. America doesn’t frustrate me. India does. It frustrates me that we haven’t won the Cricket world Cup since 2011, it frustrates me that corruption is everywhere, it frustrates me that the roads are bad and the population is reaching 1.7 billion now. And I’d like to bicker, complain and rant about it, like most Indians do. Yes, I am considering going back.”
“Just out of curiosity, why did you ever leave India?”
“I was 25. The thought of living in a land where a plumber takes his family for a vacation to Europe and where the Governor of the biggest state was the Terminator fascinated me”