Stories 2: 301 Lokumal
Memories usually don't come in any particular oder... something this morning reminded me of my PG days... the days before I met Renu.
I was asked to leave Steven's house (my accommodation) at Santa Cruz in May 2000. I don'tknow if I was relieved or scared. The house had its issues. I was paying a lot for sleeping on someone's apology of a Deewan in their living room... their mutt peeing over my chappals every morning, living off a suitcase (no cupboards offered), woken up in weekends by Steven's lousy kids pulling my hair and slapping me... having to do my laundry at 5am on Saturday and Sunday so that I would use running water and not stored water...
I would miss Bhatti, my PG-mate, who occupied the balcony (with the blue tarp to prevent the rain and sun and dust). But really, I was fed up with that existence. And one night, I came back blown out of my head... and fell when the door opened to the brotherly arms of Bhatti.
I remember Steven's wife saying,' Yeh kya ho gaya. Daru piya hai yeh.' And Bhatti replying,' No Ma'am, I think he's just tired'.
The next morning, I had to leave. With a suitcase and a few plastic bags...I made my way to the broker. He took me straight to Lokumal building in Mahim. It fitted within my budget... 2500 a month and 5K deposit. I was shown the house by the broker and a young guy (probably my age then... turned out to be the landlord's son). I would have to share a room with another guy... who looked pretty harmless sleeping on his back covering his face with a special edition of Playboy. The apartment was on the third floor... and our window had a decent view of the area.
The bed next to window was vacant... I left my bags on it and proceeded to check the rest of the house out. The living room was fairly large for Bombay standards, there was a small kitchen, another bedroom (for the landlord and his wife) and bathroom-toilet. I would share the loo and bath with these guys.
The door opened and the landlady walked in, holding a Pomeranian in her arms. The guy leapt out when he saw me and headed to attack me, teeth and all. It was pretty much a scene out of the Wild West, but in this case it was not about who drew the pistol faster. I made it to my room just in time to slam the door on the mutt's face. Phew. I hate Poms.
The commotion woke up Sheik Abdul Tayeb... 6ft, skinny guy with long wiry hair, sharp features and a dead-pan delivery that would make Bill Murray happy. Sheik sat there and grinned... pulled out a semi-smoked joint, offered it to me. I declined. He lit it, took a long drag and said, 'Lock your stuff up. If you lose anything, don't come to me'.
I was like... what the fuck is this guy's problem?
That night, I was woken up by the rain... the dream was amazing though. I rushed to shut the large windows and sat on my bed, drenched and psyched. I saw Sheik's toothy grin in the darkness. ' Its the Mango Rains'... and he went back to sleep. You can imagine what I was thinking.
A while later, the landlord walked into the room to introduce himself. In sign language. He couldn't hear or speak. Sheik later told me that the expression on my face said 'Don't fuck with me man/ God why do you do this to people/ hey we can have fun with this guy'. His wife followed him, and it appeared that 4 decades of marriage (and beating) was making her deaf and dumb as well. I was told the rules by her... in whatever muffled speech she could manage. 'No Girls, No Drugs'. I could live with that. The first I couldn't afford to keep happy and the second I was (and still am) totally against.
Mr. Gulu Thadani (the landlord) used to be a sales guy with Bush TV. He lost his voice talking crap like most sales guys do. He was a die-hard WWE fan... being deaf, he would put the volume at max, lay on the floor to feel the vibrations of each punch and fall... and cheer loudly when all the drama happened on TV. The first time I saw this play out... I thought he was lying on the floor banging his hands on the tiles because he was having a stroke or something. Gulu as it appears was a colorful man. He had an illegitimate kid (now a Bombay hustler). Jr. Thadani had a new job every week. From running a modeling agency to film casting, poultry farm to hosiery store... mostly he was a pimp. He did not live with his Dad. He used to drop by to collect hand-outs... and sometimes in the heat of the night to screw one of the unmentionables along with 3 of his friends.
Gulu's other son (the guy who showed me the house) was an animation chap at UTV toons. He also had a daughter, who was married to a total weirdo and had a new born. They lived separately... and off the old man as well.
They all had this one pom... who wore a bib while eating and had to be spoon-fed every meal. A year into 301 Lokumal, I would almost kill that animal. In a bizarre incident, I was once returning from office when this pom attacked me in the living room. Too tired to run and too fed up of being scared, I waited for the Pom. As he approached me (running), I sent a superbly-timed kick his way. The rest, as they say... was in slow-motion. I saw the dog twist in pain and elevate slowly, steadily in a trajectory that indicated that it would fly out the window. I saw the dog move slowly towards the window and suddenly in real-time when it scampered for dear life by the windowsill. It made it. And that was the last time it came anywhere near me.
Sheik was a photographer and was assisting Dilip Bhatia... a successful chap who did a lot of good advertising work. I told Sheik that I would make a few changes to the room in a couple of months... thats when i would go home and bring my speakers to Bombay.
As the days went by, I got along well with Sheik. A perfect roomie, if there ever was. We had great chemistry. Unspoken agreements and changes were made to accommodate each other.
Once I managed to get my speakers to Bombay, I took a trip to Lamington Road to hunt for a small amplifier. I got one that matched the speaker's power and from that day on, we rocked the place out. A portable CD player did the job for us. Saturday nights were synonymous with house parties. People would walk in...most of whom we didn't know because word spread that if you wanted free Old Monk, Salami Sandwiches, Nepali weed and loud Rock Music... 301 Lokumal is the place to be.
From having people passing out drunk on the floor, to getting super high on Weed seeds and attempting suicide... we had it all. We used to see our guests off as well.. and one night, a gush of wind pushed the door behind us shut and we were locked till 7am. No point ringing the bell with a deaf landlord, you see. We got away with our misdeeds on Saturday nights with 2 super large drinks for Gulu. He'd pass out by the time we finished our 10th song for the night.
One night, he walked into the room while we were playing a guitar heavy song. He saw everyone air-guitaring, bobbing up and down... and had that funny perplexed look on his face. He leaned on the cupboard and felt the vibration of the base guitar on it... and was so shocked that he fell down. He was upset alright... but nothing an Old Monk can't fix.
I left that life when I met Renu Nair.
I was asked to leave Steven's house (my accommodation) at Santa Cruz in May 2000. I don'tknow if I was relieved or scared. The house had its issues. I was paying a lot for sleeping on someone's apology of a Deewan in their living room... their mutt peeing over my chappals every morning, living off a suitcase (no cupboards offered), woken up in weekends by Steven's lousy kids pulling my hair and slapping me... having to do my laundry at 5am on Saturday and Sunday so that I would use running water and not stored water...
I would miss Bhatti, my PG-mate, who occupied the balcony (with the blue tarp to prevent the rain and sun and dust). But really, I was fed up with that existence. And one night, I came back blown out of my head... and fell when the door opened to the brotherly arms of Bhatti.
I remember Steven's wife saying,' Yeh kya ho gaya. Daru piya hai yeh.' And Bhatti replying,' No Ma'am, I think he's just tired'.
The next morning, I had to leave. With a suitcase and a few plastic bags...I made my way to the broker. He took me straight to Lokumal building in Mahim. It fitted within my budget... 2500 a month and 5K deposit. I was shown the house by the broker and a young guy (probably my age then... turned out to be the landlord's son). I would have to share a room with another guy... who looked pretty harmless sleeping on his back covering his face with a special edition of Playboy. The apartment was on the third floor... and our window had a decent view of the area.
The bed next to window was vacant... I left my bags on it and proceeded to check the rest of the house out. The living room was fairly large for Bombay standards, there was a small kitchen, another bedroom (for the landlord and his wife) and bathroom-toilet. I would share the loo and bath with these guys.
The door opened and the landlady walked in, holding a Pomeranian in her arms. The guy leapt out when he saw me and headed to attack me, teeth and all. It was pretty much a scene out of the Wild West, but in this case it was not about who drew the pistol faster. I made it to my room just in time to slam the door on the mutt's face. Phew. I hate Poms.
The commotion woke up Sheik Abdul Tayeb... 6ft, skinny guy with long wiry hair, sharp features and a dead-pan delivery that would make Bill Murray happy. Sheik sat there and grinned... pulled out a semi-smoked joint, offered it to me. I declined. He lit it, took a long drag and said, 'Lock your stuff up. If you lose anything, don't come to me'.
I was like... what the fuck is this guy's problem?
That night, I was woken up by the rain... the dream was amazing though. I rushed to shut the large windows and sat on my bed, drenched and psyched. I saw Sheik's toothy grin in the darkness. ' Its the Mango Rains'... and he went back to sleep. You can imagine what I was thinking.
A while later, the landlord walked into the room to introduce himself. In sign language. He couldn't hear or speak. Sheik later told me that the expression on my face said 'Don't fuck with me man/ God why do you do this to people/ hey we can have fun with this guy'. His wife followed him, and it appeared that 4 decades of marriage (and beating) was making her deaf and dumb as well. I was told the rules by her... in whatever muffled speech she could manage. 'No Girls, No Drugs'. I could live with that. The first I couldn't afford to keep happy and the second I was (and still am) totally against.
Mr. Gulu Thadani (the landlord) used to be a sales guy with Bush TV. He lost his voice talking crap like most sales guys do. He was a die-hard WWE fan... being deaf, he would put the volume at max, lay on the floor to feel the vibrations of each punch and fall... and cheer loudly when all the drama happened on TV. The first time I saw this play out... I thought he was lying on the floor banging his hands on the tiles because he was having a stroke or something. Gulu as it appears was a colorful man. He had an illegitimate kid (now a Bombay hustler). Jr. Thadani had a new job every week. From running a modeling agency to film casting, poultry farm to hosiery store... mostly he was a pimp. He did not live with his Dad. He used to drop by to collect hand-outs... and sometimes in the heat of the night to screw one of the unmentionables along with 3 of his friends.
Gulu's other son (the guy who showed me the house) was an animation chap at UTV toons. He also had a daughter, who was married to a total weirdo and had a new born. They lived separately... and off the old man as well.
They all had this one pom... who wore a bib while eating and had to be spoon-fed every meal. A year into 301 Lokumal, I would almost kill that animal. In a bizarre incident, I was once returning from office when this pom attacked me in the living room. Too tired to run and too fed up of being scared, I waited for the Pom. As he approached me (running), I sent a superbly-timed kick his way. The rest, as they say... was in slow-motion. I saw the dog twist in pain and elevate slowly, steadily in a trajectory that indicated that it would fly out the window. I saw the dog move slowly towards the window and suddenly in real-time when it scampered for dear life by the windowsill. It made it. And that was the last time it came anywhere near me.
Sheik was a photographer and was assisting Dilip Bhatia... a successful chap who did a lot of good advertising work. I told Sheik that I would make a few changes to the room in a couple of months... thats when i would go home and bring my speakers to Bombay.
As the days went by, I got along well with Sheik. A perfect roomie, if there ever was. We had great chemistry. Unspoken agreements and changes were made to accommodate each other.
Once I managed to get my speakers to Bombay, I took a trip to Lamington Road to hunt for a small amplifier. I got one that matched the speaker's power and from that day on, we rocked the place out. A portable CD player did the job for us. Saturday nights were synonymous with house parties. People would walk in...most of whom we didn't know because word spread that if you wanted free Old Monk, Salami Sandwiches, Nepali weed and loud Rock Music... 301 Lokumal is the place to be.
From having people passing out drunk on the floor, to getting super high on Weed seeds and attempting suicide... we had it all. We used to see our guests off as well.. and one night, a gush of wind pushed the door behind us shut and we were locked till 7am. No point ringing the bell with a deaf landlord, you see. We got away with our misdeeds on Saturday nights with 2 super large drinks for Gulu. He'd pass out by the time we finished our 10th song for the night.
One night, he walked into the room while we were playing a guitar heavy song. He saw everyone air-guitaring, bobbing up and down... and had that funny perplexed look on his face. He leaned on the cupboard and felt the vibration of the base guitar on it... and was so shocked that he fell down. He was upset alright... but nothing an Old Monk can't fix.
I left that life when I met Renu Nair.
posted by Arun Nair at
12:12 PM
2 Comments:
Did know all this. Thanks for sharing it.
didn't know... :)
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