Yeah, that's right

I ran into my friend S the other day on NH Road. At first he pretended not to know me --- may be he thought I was one of the many creditors he had shaken off in the temple city. After I had reassured him on that point and promised to write off the small cash he owed me he deigned to step into R Bhavan for coffee.

He had grown a beard, dyed his hair brown and was wearing a tie. I looked under the table and noticed he was even wearing shoes. In school he used to wear a perennial band-aid to dodge PT masters. " I don't believe in them[shoes]. They're not for the tropics" he used to say. For somebody who just managed to get a degree, couldn't hold a job, didn't have much family support, he looked prosperous, indeed. Worse, he was speaking or trying to speak like an American.

Oh, now, I'm a faculty member with the Personality and Accent Institute just down the road! I'm paid 30K!

Here I was struggling to persuade the city's elite to switch over from pizzas to good old rice cakes, when this wastrel had gone and become faculty!
So, you're still selling rice cakes! I'll get you a regular dinner order for 50, except Sundays. How do you like it!

Hiding my resentment at this gross injustice of life, I tried to listen objectively as he fleshed out his job profile.

My portfolio is deportment and accent!

Deportment! For someone who walked like a sodden duck, this was a wrong allocation, obviously. He was quick to correct my perception.
His institute's primary aim was preparing management candidates to face interviews in MNCs. According to a survey his organisation had done most candidates goof up in deportment and accent.
Deportment, S said, boils down to how you carry yourself when you walk in to the interview hall and the way you sit.
1. What must not be done is to walk in like a sodden duck.
2. what you must not do is sit like a couch potato --- here he pointed insultingly to my relaxed posture.
3. Sit upright, with your shodden feet crossed under the chair and smile confidently.

His first job was to din these three elementary things into the aspirants.
The other task was to teach them to say Yeah like the americans.Why?
You know, Yeah, has a ring of authority to it. Yes, sounds weak and defeatist!

For the next two minutes he was teaching me to say Yeah!
"How did I do?" I asked anxiously.
"Not bad!" he said. " But to get it pat, enrol with us. We've got a package even for caterers!"
He fished out his visiting card, let me pay the bill as always, and walked away like a sodden duck.
I turned into N Street, muttering "Yeah" like S taught me, and trying to get it right.

Unswept house

I turn back at the door
For a last look, once more
At my home, no more
All bare, bar
Memory's footprints
On the wall
Where hung till yesterday
Frozen moments of fleeting joy ---
Toddler, degree-holder, newly wed ---
Two score years gone like a dream
Yet how harsh those summers were
Like hell's fire, burning, without destroying
I look at the floor
The landlady did not want wiped clean
I lock the door
Someday, I will be leaving
Another home, on other feet
Leaving behind, some pain, perhaps
Much relief, and, deathless verses
(Published in Kavya Bharati)