Idrees.

As usual, I was sipping coffee without delighting in the flavour intertwined with my thoughts; I took notice of a man contending with Kishore, the shopkeeper, in shattered Hindi.

Someone is almost five feet tall with a reasonably solid body wearing a slightly tattered vest can be glimpsed through the top two unbuttoned shirts with discreet frills and a ratty lunki. I can see the underwear that reaches the knees. He took the phone from his underwear pocket and kept questioning how much he should pay. He argued with Kishore that the figure was 20 rupees more than the other store. He was concealing his anger with a smile while engaging in the argument. When I noticed the broken Hindi and lunki, I stepped in by asking him in Malayalam on the pretence that he might be a Malayali;

"What happened?"

With a surprise but with a face that could not suppress the pleasure of listening to Malayalam, he said;

"He urges 20 rupees more."

Kishore stepped in and said in Hindi.

"Askar bro, how can I sell it in my small store at wholesale price?"

I saw on Kishore's face the hesitation to an extended argument in front of me with somebody speaking in my mother tongue. I have been visiting Kishore for coffee twice a day for the last five years. At last, Kishore consented to the price that the guy put forward.

We met. He is Idris. 35 years old. A commoner with two kids and a wife struggling to make ends meet. He had come from Kerala to the nearby firm with old fishing nets. With the excitement of meeting a Malayali, he introduced Ilyas, a travel enthusiast with a slim body who looks 27 despite being 30. He came with Idris to explore the new place.

It has been five years since I moved to Raipur (the capital of Chhattisgarh). This is the first time I have heard Malayalam in this village called Sajbahar, on the outskirts of Raipur city, from someone immensely close to India's soul. I converse in Malayalam with people from IIT and IIM whose life is not much different than mine. Another fellow came in after hearing our talk in Malayalam. He settled in Raipur. That was the first time I met and spoke to him, who lived just 300 meters from my house. He left early as he had a missionary program. I, Idris and Ilyas converse in Malayalam for a while.

When they left, Kishore let out to me;

"What to do, Asker bro? I only can charge how much I am selling for?"

I was a bit saddened to hear his concern. Kishore's is a small store. Although he is 25 years old, he has two kids.
I said;

"You put that money in my account."

I pay Kishore at the end of the month. Hearing that, Kishore growled;

"Not like that, bro; I just spoke out."

I could see the suspicion on his face that I had judged him at 20 rupees. I felt sorry. Strategically, I changed the topic and said goodbye after a small chat, and I walked home.

My next week was not that much pleasant.
I was icky as I couldn't address the reviewer's comments within the allotted time for the scientific journal I had sent for publication. I requested the publishers for ten more days after convincing my supervisor and was working day and night.

Meanwhile, I unexpectedly saw a flaw in the system's basic design that reviewers had overlooked. After trying for days, I fixed it. But it was hard to revise the theorems and equations I had made in a year, find new inferences, and rewrite the entire article. I was sure I wouldn't finish it in the allotted time. I emailed the publisher in the morning without informing my supervisor, as today was the deadline. I was anxious about whether they would grant me time again and am I tarnishing the supervisor's reputation. I was sitting in front of my laptop till 6:30 in the evening, looking at unanswered email and unfinished article. Suddenly my phone rang. I saw Idrees Malappuram on display.

On the other end of the phone, he sounded;

"I am at Sagebahr. I arrived this morning. I thought you would be at work and didn't call. If you are free, we can meet at that old coffee shop."

I packed my bag and left the lab. Even after drinking two cups of tea, he was nowhere. The phone was about to die. I told Kishore to ask to phone me if the Malayali who came last week came, and I went to the room.

I was charging the phone and scrolling through social media. Idris called again

"Had a little trouble with the bill here. That's why delayed. I am sorry. I'm in the shop now."

I went back to the shop. He looks the same as last week. Ilyas is not there. But there was another fellow, Sanu, 23 years old, with a slim body and was tall enough. He is preparing himself for this job. But after one trip, he got exhausted and said he did not want to do it anymore. I was amazed at the man who drove a truck from Chhattisgarh to Kerala and back to Chhattisgarh in a week. A middle-aged man who works tirelessly. But the joy that is always humming under his eyes. However, if you observe keenly, you can see on that face that the eagerness and the anxiety imprinted like a layer about the life of a man who has to work day and night to meet the ends.  After telling stories from Kerala and having a cup of tea, He inquired,

"What's dinner?"

I was mentally and physically exhausted and had bought a dozen robusta bananas. I said I would eat it and go to bed early.

"Let's make maggee. Shall you join us?"

I would love to have the experience of cooking and eating in the truck, but I had no energy left for that experience. Nevertheless, I was waiting for a reply to the email I sent in the morning.

"You guys carry on," I answered and went to the room. After sitting in the room and eating bananas, I lay on the bed. Idrees called again.

"Did you eat?"

I replied;

"Ate the bananas. No energy to cook. If you want, you can use my kitchen for your cooking."

"Then we will buy the chicken and come to your location. Are there spices, oil and rice?"

I went to the kitchen and looked. Everything they said was there, even though I hadn't been cooked for weeks.

"Yes. Buy the chicken and call me, and I will pick you up. Don't buy too much; I eat less meat." I cut the call.

When I went to them after a while, they were waiting for me with rice, coconut oil and chicken. When I told them that there was oil and rice in the room, he said,

"There will not be Kerala rice and coconut oil; let's have Kerala cuisine today."

" I haven't used coconut oil and Kerala rice since coming here. Sometimes it crosses my mind that I have become a North Indian myself. We returned to the room, and he taught me how to cook chicken curry quickly. Sanu took a bath and became handsome. He said,

"The most difficult thing is to shower and go to the toilet during the truck journey, and today I got peace." 

Meanwhile, Idris also took a bath. He called Ilyas on the phone while we had food. He joined us from Kerala virtually. I had more than half of the food. When I asked, they said, 

"We eat this much only." 

It was the first time in months that I felt like eating again, even though my stomach was full. They watched me eat. Meanwhile, Idrees bro asked, 

"How is the food?" 

I replied, 
"It has been ages since my mind was full."

I looked at his face while responding. Happiness and contentment were evident on that face. Then I realised that they were cooking for me and not for them. We talked in Malayalam for a long time. Within one day, we became like people who had known each other for a long time. Idris and Sanu prepared to go to the truck, saying that it was not
safe to keep the truck there and the remaining food you eat in the morning. I also went with them.

We chatted while sitting in the truck about their life, the rising fuel prices and the driving strategies he employs to conserve fuel. He said that the transportation cost has not risen since 2006, and only the business class benefits from the inflation due to fuel prices. It was new information for me.

"One day, I'll come to Kerala in your truck. I'm taking off for now, and phone me when you leave." 

We passed a good night and parted.

I came to my home and fell on the mattress. Pick up the phone and check the email. A response from the publisher was forthcoming. They granted me ten more days.

Idrees were a slap to my consciousness, which pushes the human at first sight into bins built through the movies I have watched and the tales I have heard.

I slept soundly that day, satisfied that the mental plane had become more humane and glad I had extra time to work.

🖊 Askar