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Like A Coconut

Like A Coconut

4 mins
394


“Have you gone on a motorcycle ride before?” asked a familiar voice. Robin turned around to reveal a man smiling at him with deep penetrating eyes. They stayed in the same apartment but never had they interacted before. Ding! The lift level changed from six to five. The man caressed his unattended beard, placed densely, on his stern face; he shifted the weight of his strong frame to his left leg and leaned slightly towards him. “Yes!” I said, “Why do you ask?” “You have a t-shirt with a biker logo; vamp of your white shoe is rough – I think it’s enough for a hint.” Robin fidgeted a little; Was he Sherlock or a lawyer? he thought and nodded in response. The lift dinged again to indicate ground floor. The man waved, shot out sat on his bullet and zoomed into the traffic.

Days passed, it was a Sunday evening and Robin was polishing his bike with a rare sparkle in his eyes. Some men can’t help appreciating their machines – beast at the fullest throttle and art at silent rest. “Brother!” “Hey, brother!”, a voice called. Robin rose up. It was the same man. He came over shared his opinion on the bike and said, “man I had been to a bike ride last weekend. It was so much fun!” He started showing his Instagram pictures. Robin was about to stop him but then the pictures were beautiful. Was he some salesman or a showoff? The man broke Robin's thought and said, “I’m Bhima. Nice to meet you! Having said that he dashed away.

The following week Robin was cruising on his way back home thinking about the comfortable sofa, his billion-dollar thought and a pint of chilled beer. As he approached his apartment, he saw a known figure shouting at a delivery boy – they both had their bikes parked while Mrs Rai, an old lady and other apartment residents stared from a distance in confusion. It was the same man – Bhima! He looked furious. It must be those time-wasting street fights, Robin shrugged. Was he crazy or an insensitive person?

After that incident, like a nail in the coffin, Robin stayed away from Bhima. Residing in the same apartment they would sometimes meet but Robin would find a way to sneak after sharing a few awkward words. Robin did not want anything to disturb his peace of mind and bad influence at that moment of his career was a huge no.

Once there was an event planned by the apartment owner: music, talks, stories and people flooded the right wing of the building. Amidst the avalanche of activities, I bumped into Mrs Rai and we started conversing. She had been a journalist once in her heydays, so she always had interesting experiences to talk about. We talked about different subjects then she started narrating an event she had encountered last month. Mrs Rai said, “That evening I was on my way back home from my evening walk. I had a red handbag stretched out in my right hand. Out of the blue, a delivery boy rode past me dragging my bag on the floor; I stumbled and almost fell. I shouted, he stopped and shouted back rudely.” she remarked in disgust. She waved at a known face and then continued, “Just then, Bhima was leaving the apartment, he stopped in front of the delivery boy and rebuked him for his rude behavior. Some moments later, the boy realized his mistake, apologized and left the scene. Bhima was of immense help that day. He looks unorganized from outside but he’s a fine gentleman, just like a coconut.” Robin was filled with shame; he wanted to bury himself under the ground. After some more talks, they parted ways.

He thought that night, how sometimes what you see is not true. Truth must be given time and many a time it is all about the pause and thought you invest on before a decision is taken. Often a simple misunderstanding destroys relationships and not always you have a second chance. With a strong intent to set things right, he closed his eyes to sleep. After a few nights, he found Bhima washing his bike. “Brother! Brother Bhima!”, he called. Bhima rose up and smiled.

It has been years past this incident, Mrs Rai sits comfortably in her balcony, rests her legs on a cousin and scrolls her Instagram page. She likes a video – Robin and Bhima riding along the hairpin bends somewhere in the forest of Western Ghats.


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