Click Click Click

This story was neither published in the Madhouse, nor is sourced from the huge arsenal of unpublished stories of the Madhouse. Technically, this occurred AFTER the stars in the story had graduated. My friend Makarand Karkare posted a story about cameras on his blog http://mkarkare.wordpress.com/2011/02/16/my-first-camera/  and this reminded me of a story featuring Ghoda, who at some point in history was referred to as Ashvin Sanghvi.

After 3-4 years of courtship, countless hours on the phone, hand-in-hand walks by the Powai lake and gazing at romantic sunsets, Ghoda decided to get married to his lady love in June 1983. I received the invitation card in Hyderabad barely 2 days before his D-day, accompanied by a terse note which said, "You have to come. No cranky gifts and no pranks PLEAAAAASE." I laughed at the recollection of how we had harangued Ghoda and Ghodi on their engagement day barely a year before. For starters, we presented Ghodi with a whip. (chaabuk) We then carried in huge, massive gift-wrapped boxes which had absolutely nothing in it. We then got in a girl freshy and a Prof's 10 month old baby to walk in during the ceremony and create a ruckus about how the philandering Ghoda had cheated the hapless damsel and left his kid in the lurch. This act was topped by an unknown PG masquerading as an Indian Express reporter who had come to interview an IIT couple who had decided to tie the knot.

It was entirely possible that Ghoda had sent me the invitation since he had to, but had delayed it suitably to make it difficult for me to make it. In any case, he had managed to make it impossible for me to plan a mega-prank of setting off fireworks in the marriage hall or a series of alarm clocks in his bridal chamber. Or spike guest's drinks with Bhang. The short deadline also made it difficult for me to call up Birjoo and Vijay and plan out a wedding gift. STD had just come in but guys were generally away at work till late. While skimming through an issue of India Today, my eyes caught an ad for a new type of a camera called Hot Shot. It was touted as a single click camera with a prominent "Just aim and shoot" tagline. It looked sleek and cute and I thought it would be a handy contraption on a honeymoon where Ghoda would not have time to focus and adjust and manipulate aperture speeds. Price was a slightly steep Rs. 200 and the "going rate" for a gift in those days varied from Rs. 11 to Rs. 51, depending on one's proximity to the giftee. But time was short, Ghoda was a dear friend and I had to atone for the fracas I had created on his engagement.

Gift wrapped Hot Shot and I, both made it in time for the wedding. In the hall, I first ran into Birjoo and Vijay. I had written down their names on the gift along with mine since I wanted to split the tab-after all, I was just a few months into my work phase and had not yet started earning money. Before I could even say a "Hi guys", Birjoo went ballistic. "This Ghoda is such a moron! Vijay and I went all over town and decided to buy a Hot Shot camera for him from all of us and guess what? When we presented it to him, he tells us that he already bought one for himself just yesterday." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Vijay's eyes went to the object in my hand and he guessed correctly..."Oh No! You don't mean that you too..." He didn't need to complete the sentence. My nod confirmed everything.

Next scene: Birjoo gesticulating to Ghoda on the stage as he was shaking the hundredth hand of the evening. Like Ghoda, Birjoo was a mime master and a Dumb Charades partner of Ghoda in the hostel team. While he was still shaking a hand, Ghoda's expressions changed quick and fast when he deciphered Birjoo's actions from 25 feet away. His look said..."Oh No! Camera.....Bakul got....It's the same...a HOT SHOT." Abandoning the hand, Ghoda quickly ambled over to the edge of the stage as if he were going to jump down and smash me to the ground. Mercifully, he stopped at the edge, slapped his forehead and then gesticulated with a forefinger. I was not sure if this was worse punishment than meted out to him during his engagement. We consoled each other with "wise men think alike" kind of sagely mantras. We later counseled Ghoda to open a photography store outside his house and earn some money. Unfortunately for me, Vijay and Birjoo were more gujju than me. They did not buy my accounting theory that they should pay 2/3rds of the cost of my camera and I should pay 1/3rd of theirs. We are not sure whose camera finally made it to Ooty on the honeymoon.

Bakul