Bangalore.
Hired an auto rickshaw from Majestic to BTM, had to bribe him with my shoe to charge me meter fare. On reaching BTM, I had to give him my second shoe to pay the fare.
Now, I was Bilbo Baggins.
The weather was cool; my friend was missing. I called him; he gave me the address and suggested I take a rickshaw. I cried. I do not cry easily, but that statement had made me feel lonely. Anyhow, I took another auto but had to leave my bag behind in it. This guy was kinder, he allowed me to take my documents from the bag. I hugged him before saying goodbye.
There was a list of names posted on the door: fairly long and comprehensive and divided into two columns. Some artist had drawn a Sun above one column and stars on the second. I failed to understand their significances but was pleasantly surprised to find the name of my friend in the star list. As I entered, a man was leaving the apartment with a laptop. He greeted me and shook my hand, I felt very comfortable despite being barefoot. Before leaving, he even said goodbye and handed me a pair of earphones with an earbud missing. I thanked him and pocketed the earphones. There were three rooms in the apartment with a lot of people sleeping. It was like a railway platform except that no trains were leaving here. But people quietly leaving the apartment with laptops seemed normal because I met another man who was doing the same thing. He said “hi,” shook my hand and handed me a pair of earphones. Bangalore, wow.
There were people everywhere. Some sleeping in a bunk-bed system, although there were no bunk-beds and they were just piled up like corpses. One was sleeping with an empty rum bottle clutched in his chubby fist. His underwear had rat-holes. I felt guilty looking at him. I flipped some of the people and ugly as they were, they were not my friend. So I woke up a few, but nobody had ever heard of my friend. I asked for the washroom. One bottle pointed towards it. I opened the door and there he was, my friend, sleeping on the commode. I was delighted. He too seemed very happy after he woke up. He hugged me and suggested that we move out of the toilet and go out for tea. I was pleased that he was still his hospitable self. As we moved out, I asked my friend why nobody knew his name. “Oh! But I am the night shift guy.” I understood what the stars column stood for now but was nonetheless still proud of him. As we were leaving, there was a huge hue and cry in the apartment. Two laptops were missing. I felt bad, but what really hurt me was the expletive-laden curse on someone who had taken earphones without earbuds.