Weird people I know

The phone rang.

Which was a relief, since Arjun had dropped it just a few moments back, breaking it into three pieces and hastily joining it back together. And I was curious to know, without appearing too rude, if the thing still worked.

"Yo!", I said. It was Senthil, and it is always a pleasure chinwagging with Senti. Plus, I have to be on my best behavior with colleagues who have - and exercise - the power to ruin my vacation plans by giving me work to do.

"I say, are you at the office now?", asked Senti.

I replied in the affirmative, since it appeared from all sensory inputs that I was.

"Are you very busy with work? I mean to say, do you have some time?" I have known Senti a while, and this is how he usually leads up to asking for a favor. Quite the polite gravedigger, he is. This time around, I decided to pull a friendly leg. "Well, actually, I am quite deep in work. Up to my neck, in fact, and getting deeper by the minute. But for you, I am always free. What's up?"

There was a dejected "Oh" on the other side. I didn't expect Senti to take me so seriously. I hastened to make amends, if amends is what one makes in such situations, and assured him that I really wasn't doing much, anyways.

"Well, I wanted to go and buy a rucksack and sleeping bag for my Ladakh trip, and was wondering if you could help me select one. You, after all, are the Trekking Expert."

It was the good old oil. But he had touched a raw nerve here.

"Hardly the Expert", said I, a bit testily. "In fact, I have not trekked in the last two years. I would have been trekking right now, if you hadn't decided to give me that assignment this week and vanish to Ladakh."

If there was irony and sarcasm in my voice, it was lost on Senthil Kumaran. He continued: "Anyways, you know more about trekking than I do. Plus, I am planning to trek regularly from now on. Your comments on gear selection would be invaluable." More oil, this time with a carrot. Senti knows I have had a hard time finding nice trekking partners. So, although I was tempted to remind him of promises made (#10 here), I zipped the lip, upped, and left for Pune Cantonment, where the rendezvous had been decided.

With me riding, and Senti acting navigator, we reached the shop in no time. Senti surprised me with the navigation bit, since he is the sort of person who would confuse left from right, or rather the other way around. This time, however, he gave a detailed series of directions that ensured we made it to the shop by an optimum path.

After I parked the bike, Senti immediately entered the shop purposefully, looked the shopkeeper in the eye and said, "I want a Peak F-52 rucksack."

I was amazed. Senti reminded me of that old TV ad where the hero strides into the chemists' shop and, while the sidey is humming and hawing, asks the chemist for Moods by name.

While the shopkeeper nodded intelligently and went to fetch the indicated item, Senti added, "..and an SB-7 sleeping bag, too."

Once in possession of the goods, Senti turned to me and asked me what I thought of them. I was literally speechless at this time, and could think of nothing to say since here, in front of me, was this completely new Senti. One who not only knew the entire range of rucksacks the shop stored by their favorite acronyms, but also the price that each one commanded. I feebly ventured a suggestion that he look at the different colors they had, but since this was the only one in stock, that suggestion went nowhere.

Later, to recover from the day's excitement, Senti and I decided to stop by Roopali and have coffee. Senti insisted on picking the tab: "Dont worry, it's on me. After all, you helped me in shopping for my rucksack and sleeping bag today."

I nodded weakly. A day would come when I would be strong enough to pay for my coffee. But not today.