Tripping: Chapter 2

This is part 2 of a series, you can find Chapter 1 and 3 on the timeline

In the cab, I sat near the window at the back, diagonally across from the driver. Three others got in the back seat with me - Satpal, Sarthak and Anvesh on top of both of them. Munnu and Gopalji sat in the front with the driver. Gopalji hasn’t had an introduction yet. Well, Gopalji was Munnu’s cousin who we all knew from Kota. He’d shown up for the trip at a virtually no notice and with the whisper of an invite, in stark contrast to the minefield of difficulties that we had to skip around for all the others to be there. More importantly, he was a top notch entertainer, intentionally or otherwise. Bespectacled, sickly thin and with a hairstyle that he fondly referred to as, “Arey, Salman Khan in Tere Naam yaar”, he had us constantly worried. Worried that all that hair would cause his slender frame to topple over from being too top heavy. His habit of breaking into a frivolous swaying routine as he sang Jaana O Jaana, a song he had composed for Indian Idol 2, didn't do much to allay our fears either. Interestingly enough, the 'ji' in his name is not a suffix I’m attaching for respect, it’s just part of his name. Yes, back home in Farrukhabad, people of all ages called him Gopalji, including his parents.

Anyway, the cab being older than the invention of the gearbox, had one of those sticks in the side of the steering wheel for changing speeds. Gopalji sat snuggled in between Munnu and the driver, in the place where a regular car would have had a gear. With Munnu still weighing in the triple digits at the time and the driver being a regular roly – poly Patel, Gopalji’s svelte figure was a huge plus.

As the cab rattled along the highway, we began to see Daman for what it really was. Industrial sheds littered the landscape. The kind that looked like they were unprofitable despite being illegal. All around the factories was a grassy swamp interspersed by industrial wasteland. The water body in the distance was the Arabian Sea, if the driver was to be believed. It’s resemblance to a dumping creek was uncanny, however. At the edge of the water was a frothy, mud coloured strip of land. The driver told us that the locals called it ‘the beach’.

For my part, I tried my best to act like Daman was, in fact, the paradise that I had expected it to be.

“Guys look, a puddle with grass”, I pointed out excitedly at some point.

“Woah! Did you see that palm tree?” at another.

From the front, Gopalji asked the question I knew he’d been itching to ask since we’d left Mumbai.

“Yaar Sushant, how come there are no girls on your trip?” he said.

“Girls? Seriously Gopalji, girls? Why would there be girls? This is an annual guys only trip, hasn’t anyone told you?” was my response.

He wasn’t satisfied, “Par yaar Sushant, what kind of trip happens without some nice girls?”

Suddenly Sarthak cut in with, “Gopalaa, it’s becoming quite clear to me why you showed up all the way from Kanpur at half a day’s notice. Girls eh? Who do you think we are, pimps of some sort?” 

For some reason, that got everyone howling with laughter for the next couple of minutes.

While Gopalji may not have known it, my argument around this being a guys only trip wasn’t as obvious as I made it out to be. Before our first trip, we had contemplated having a trip which also had girls on it. Having spent some critical formative years in Kota, however, between us we knew a grand total of three women and one other by association. Moreover, our confidence in them accompanying us on a trip, just like with almost anything else to do women, was unmentionably low. So in a moment of manly pride stemming from not wanting to face certain rejection, we decided to not invite any of the girls we knew. I remember how it had happened.

“So are we calling any girls?” Anvesh had asked cautiously.

“Girls….hmmm..”, was Satpal’s only reaction.

There was a long pause before Munnu spoke up.

“Abey girls will spoil the fun, it won’t be the same with them around,” he said, rescuing us all.

I blurted out my relief, knowing fully well that if we did call them, it would have been Satpal and I who would have actually done the asking, and by that would also have been the ones who would have faced the rejection personally.

“Yeah yeah, good point. Very true, very true, male bonding and all.” I had said.

“Exactly, I’ve been wanting for this to be a guys – only thing all along”, was Satpal’s excuse for a cover – up.

And that was that.

Getting back to where we were in the cab, conversation was happening all around.  Gopalji and Sarthak were talking about all that had transpired with him since we’d last met. If I remember correctly, it was some very interesting stuff too, but more on that later. Satpal and Anvesh were chatting up the driver and trying to figure what we could see and do over the next few days. I oscillated between the two conversations while holding on to the door, just in case it burst open from all the pressure against it. Munnu, however, was uncharacteristically quiet. His only contribution to the banter was a mild grunt every few minutes. Also, I think things on the front seat had gotten rather cramped because every now and then Gopalji would pause in the middle of his story, look at Munnu and complain, “Munnu yaar, give me some space, I’m practically in the driver’s lap.” But Munnu would do no such thing. Instead, he would nod lethargically and let out yet another low grunt.

With time, it became impossible to ignore that Munnu’s share of the front seat was beginning to get disproportionately large. Based on what Gopalji reported from the front seat, Munnu was apparently gradually spreading his legs wider and wider apart. This was causing the feather-weight Gopalji to be pushed up against the driver. All the while, Munnu’s grunts continued, slowly but surely getting louder and each lasting longer than the one before it.

“Munnu, what’s going on?” asked Satpal from the back seat when his grunts became loud enough to disrupt conversation.

Munnu didn’t reply, but grunted some more.

“Err... Munnu?” continued Satpal.

Seemingly oblivious to the question, Munnu spread his legs a bit wider, pushing Gopalji virtually onto the driver.

“Munnu, what the.....what’s going on? Seriously...” I yelled out from the back.

Munnu finally decided to speak up, “Uhh, nothing nothing, hota hai sometimes..ughhh....when I go out of town …...ughhh....”

“Huh? But what exactly is happening?” we quizzed him.

“Nothing nothing...open the windows...” he mumbled.

By this time, Munnu had spread out some more and now Gopalji was very much where the driver should have been. The driver, of course, was virtually flattened against the door. He looked something like a wind sock, the edges of his limbs hooked onto the steering wheel and the pedals, but the rest of him stretched out in the direction of the door.

Munnu arbitrarily started speaking again, “It’s nothing.....just …..a ...uggghhh.... a physiological reaction …..nothing...just open the windows yaar”

That cracked us up properly. For the next couple of minutes, the four of us in the backseat couldn’t stop laughing. I held on tightly to the door near me to stop myself from falling out from all that laughing. That’s how funny it was.

“Munnu...”, said Sarthak, between chuckles, “Munnu! Hahahaha, ‘a physiological reaction’, hahaha”. He paused to laugh some more, then continued, “man.....I never ever thought I would hear you say big words like that man. This is hilarious, where’d you pick that up?”

I knew of course, and answered, also between laughs, “The bastard’s been studying for the GRE, that’s where he’s picking up all this fancy talk. Man, I miss the old doodhwala Kanpur fellow we used to hang with earlier.”

Of course, Gopalji, who was facing the full force of Munnu’s physiogical reaction, wasn’t the least bit amused. Now that Munnu had spread out even further, Gopalji faced the very real danger of having his rib cage cave in. He moved the only part of his body that he still could, his neck, twisting it backwards and nearly spitting in rage yelled out at us, “You fuckers..... you think this is funny?”

Our chuckles only enraged him further. Munnu continued to grunt.

Later that day, we got to know more about Munnu’s issue and on all subsequent trips we made every attempt to account for it. Munnu’s problem, which was yet to receive a name, was quite peculiar and more than just just a little embarrassing. To put it in as delicate a way as possible, one would say that a change in the weather caused a disproportionate change in Munnu’s temperature profile. To put it perhaps a tad less gently, one would say that that a change of scene made Munnu somewhat testy. Abandoning any attempt at subtlety, one would simply say that venturing out of town hit Munnu below the belt, hard. But if you still haven’t got it, then for your benefit - Munnu’s problem was that his balls heated up dangerously every time he left the city.

Like I said, we only got to know this later that day. In the cab, we hadn’t realised that the reason Munnu was spreading his legs outwards was to allow the heat from between his legs to dissipate somewhat. It also hadn’t struck us till that point why Munnu insisted on keeping the windows open despite the rain. The only thing we did notice was Munnu needing progressively larger amounts of space on the front seat. Poor Munnu, he was just trying to save the lives of all the little kids who he someday intended to create.

Sitting in the back of the cab, I knew that with so much pressure building up in the front seat, something had to give. I remember thinking that perhaps the door would burst open, the car was a relic. If not, then Gopalji’s rib cage was likely to break. But instead, what really happened was once again the doing of Munnu. Having wrestled with the heat for all this while, Munnu had reached tipping point. While earlier it had been a matter of safeguarding his future children, it was now a matter of saving his pants from catching fire. The concern now being far more immediate, drastic action was warranted. At least Munnu thought so. So, in a moment we all remember with the vividness of a Van Gogh, Munnu let loose. With a loud grunt and a powerful snap, he spread out his legs to their fullest extent. The situation in the front seat had been volatile even before, and the snap was all that was needed to set it off like a firecracker.

Directly in the line of impact was Gopalji. When Munnu’s leg hit Gopalji with that incredible power, the laws of Physics demanded that Gopalji accelerate in the direction of travel of the leg. However, that direction was blockaded by the roly poly driver. Hence there was only so far Gopalji could travel in that direction. When he collided with the driver but still had plenty momentum left in him, the laws of Physics had no choice but to instruct him to travel upwards, instead of outwards.  So to summarise, Gopalji flew outwards in a blur, then hit the driver and bounced gently upwards. The driver, meanwhile, had been hit by the high speed flying object that was Gopalji. He flew outwards towards the door.

Then the driver slammed against the door and was stopped dead by it . The car lost control for a bit before the driver found his bearing again and took a hold of it, bringing it back on track. He then yelled at Munnu in Gujarati and asked him to behave himself. Yeah, that's what happened.

Actually, that's not what happened. That's what I wish had happened. But it didn't. 

In reality, the driver did slam against the door. Unfortuantely, the door did not stop him dead in his tracks. The door, after centuries of good service to the car and it’s occupants, burst at the hinges and fell away onto the road. The driver, who was still in motion, had no choice but to follow. Gopalji, who had been lifted upwards briefly, chose this exact moment to fall back down and land in the spot where the driver had been a moment earlier, at the wheel. He grabbed the wheel with both hands and looked back at us. His trademark ‘punchline expression’ was pasted on his face. Eyes wide, mouth visibly holding back laughter, as he got ready to deliver the gem that he was sure would get everyone rolling on the floor, at which point he would have to hold back no more and could join the others in the hilarity.

“Arre yaar,” he said, pausing for effect, “I have a driving license, but can’t drive for nuts.”

Then he continued, “Yaar Munnu, can you touch my chest and check please, I think I may have cracked a rib or something.”

With that, Gopalji burst out laughing and began, much to our horror, driving.

While I’ve described the events after Munnu’s snap in detail, it’s important to note that they happened in little more than a flash. In so short a time, in fact, that the four of us on the back seat could just about gape in amazement at what was happening up ahead. We stared, with our jaws hanging out, speechless, as Gopalji cackled away at the wheel of the car. 

As the car rattled along and Gopalji’s laughter subsided, there was no sound in the car except the one coming from Munnu. Having spread his legs out, he now sounded like a pressure cooker gently blowing off some steam. With his head turned up high and with a satisfied expression on his face, he was busy letting out an unending:

“Aaahhhhhhhh....”

To be continued.....