Before you read this blog, let me assure you that this is not one of those morbid obituaries that you may have read earlier. 

There are many people who would have touched our lives in a million ways.  Some of them come and go and have nothing much to contribute, some are like a whiff of fresh air and leave behind multitude memories that we carry in our hearts maybe till it is time to say goodbye.  Raghu belongs to the latter category. 

We lived in a compound, which comprised of six houses in the 70’s and 80’s.  Yes in a city where people move houses at the drop of a hat, the landlord was kind enough to keep us in the same house for 20 yrs.   Our house was on the first floor and we shared our walls with another family and the lady of the house was someone who was mighty close to me.  Her sister and myself were of the same age and I have had some of the best teenage years with her.  Now this lady built her own house and decided to move out.  It was a cold winter January and I remember the day very well. 

I must’ve cried copious tears on their departure and plunged headlong into my studies to forget their absence.  Sam Pitroda was only in the process of revolutionizing the Telecom sector and we were still waiting for our phone.  So there were no phones, forget mobiles and there was no way that I could keep in touch with my friend and I continued to mope around. 

One day, after I reached home from the college, I found lots of activity next door and I found that we had new neighbours.  My mother said that it was a couple who had occupied the house.  Then she introduced me to the man of the house, a short stocky guy with cheeks that dimpled when he smiled which was way too often as I noticed later. He was Raghunath and he worked with Cipla the pharmaceutical giant and he belonged to Trichy. His wife was Rama, a very beautiful woman and the husband and wife complemented each other. I would like to add here that most Tamilians are usually satirists and they love to pun.  I think they have a funny bone, which may not be found in everyone.

Now Raghu quickly got acquainted with my parents, but it took him and his wife a long time to thaw the ice with me.  I studied in a college which was faraway from home and in the 80’s the bus service in Bangalore was pathetic, now we have good bus service but the traffic is pathetic.  Anyways not to digress, I stood in the bus stop one sunny afternoon after college. There was only one bus that went towards my home those days and if I were to miss this particular bus I would have to wait in the bus stand for another good one hour.

The bus fortunately arrived on time and the sea of humanity literally pushed me into the mouth of the bus.  But it so happened that after a minute of climbing the steps I found that my duppatta had done a vanishing act.  So I stood on the steps looking outside and inside the bus trying to find my duppatta.  The conductor's eyes bored into my contact lensed eyes and said in chaste kannada, ‘Ena amma, hath theera illava, illandrey illiyamma’ meaning ‘hey lady, are you going to climb into the bus or if you are not, then get down’.  I thought it would be cheaper to get a new duppatta then go home in an auto.  And covering my modesty with my files I just walked into the crowded bus.  Once the crowd in the bus thinned, a good Samaritan who must’ve heard my cries for my duppatta earlier, threw a red ball at me. I saw that it was my duppatta which had entered into the bus without me all trodden and made into a neat ball and shoved under a seat right behind.  I picked it up gingerly, shoved it into my bag and handed it over to my mom to do the honours of washing it.  She enquired what happened and I narrated the incident. She had a good laugh and before I could blink my eyes, voila she had vanished into Raghu’s house to tell him about it.

Soon Raghu joined and then he said ‘Sudha, I heard that you were taking the permission of the conductor today”.  I looked at him quizzically and wracked my brains wondering when on earth did I take the conductor’s permission. Raghu grinned and he said ‘I hear that you were telling the conductor thuppatta, thuppatta, why do you need to take his permission to spit, if you felt like you should have just spat’.  Only then I realized what he meant.  Tamil is a funny language – Duppatta would also mean Thuppatta, which means a shawl and also spit.  Oh yes, this became a big joke in my family those days and everyone wanted an intro to Raghu.

My father used to play music early morning and sometimes it would be ‘Pithukuli Murugadas’.  Now this singer has this habit of drawling the ‘Amma’ bit and immediately Raghu would appear and say ‘oh the Ra picchay has started’, meaning the 'night beggar' has begun his work. 

My mother once narrated how a robber in Tenkasi threatened her sister’s husband with a knife and how he scared the daylights of her athimber.  Without blinking an eye Raghu was quick to say ‘why should he be scared? Onga athimberkku katthiya kattinal, onga athimber en katthi kartalai’ meaning if your brother-in-law was shown a knife, why didn’t he scream?  The katthi is the same word, but has different meanings just like the English language.

Whenever my brother sent us snail mails, he would enquire about Raghu and when my mother used to tell him ‘ongalai romba kettan’ and Raghu would say but I do not have anything to give.  ‘Kettan’ means convey my regards or ask and Raghu would use the latter meaning to crack his joke.

The smell of the agarbathi and the delicious aroma wafting from our kitchen would remind him of Arya Bhavan in Chennai.  His wife was a bad cook, so when we used to ask him ‘so what is cooking at home Raghu’ and he would say gloomily ‘Nala Vidwan’ which meant Upma.  The joke was that during the days of yore, when there were no new artists who could perform, then the king would make the court artists to sing or dance and Upma was accorded the ‘Nala Vidwan’ status by Raghu.

When my mom used to give him the electricity bill and say here is the ‘light bill’ then he would say ‘why isn’t it a strong bill’?  When his wife used to snap at him during an argument saying ‘peshama pongo’ meaning please go and don’t talk and he would say ‘peshindey ponal enna’ which means why can't I talk and walk?

Punning was second nature to him and as long as he stayed next door, he regaled us with his jokes and wisecracks.  He was like the second son that my mother never had and it was but with a heavy heart that my parents moved out of the compound into their new home.  My parents missed him more than they would have missed me as I got married and moved out of the house much before they shifted home. 

He was definitely like a whiff of fresh air and everyone at home remembers him fondly even today twenty years later.  Not a single day have we seen him morose or lose his temper and he continues to be in our memories as the Raghunath with the warm and friendly smile! 

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Glossary:

Athimber – Sister’s husband (Brother-in-law)

Agarbathi – Incense stick

Katthi – Knife

Kartinal – Show

Katthi – Scream

Kartalai – Show