Manic Ambulators

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That is my Latin for Crazy Walkers.

Had I titled it in English thus, my Inbox would be flooded by computer-generated spam by Search Engines (Machino Circumspecto) from Suppliers of Prosthetic Walkers (not yet...not yet...porey..porey..)

RKN is the proudest of this species in the World of Indian English Literature (or is it Anglo-Indian?) and has written extensively on the goodies of interminably long walks (legend has it that these could stretch for four or five hours). He would take his walk along the streets of his Mysore, keep on the lookout for material, talk to one and all of his acquaintances, shopkeepers, and interesting strangers.

But Khushwant Singh who was also a fond walker was not exactly amused: Once they happened to share the same Hotel while on an International Conference and used to try long evening walks together side by side. Apparently Khushwant was annoyed by this habit of RKN of stopping abruptly in his tracks when he had something particularly interesting to say; and these sudden halt, talk and go jolts took all the fun out of our Sardarjee's idea of brisk walks. Possibly he was also gathering material and these jerky Parking Breaks didn't help his smooth flow of ideas.

During my school days in our Village, we never walked....we just ran.

When I shifted to my University at Visakhapatnam, we used to live a few meters from the sea-shore for 7 years and there was no day I didn't take a long walk on the sands, evening or morning. Alone: not talking to anyone nor collecting material for my forthcoming blogs half a century later. Just gathering wool and at times ruminating the undigested stuff from Jenkins & White or Saha & Srivastava if there was an exam tomorrow.

And dreaming about you know what.

For the first six months at KGP I was living close to the Main Building so there was no need for a cycle. But as soon as I was unwillingly shifted to far away Qrs I bought a brand new Green Avon cycle @ half-a-month's-take-home. It was stolen the very next day, breaking my youthful heart like it was a surai full of tears (aquario lacremo).

Then on I took a vow not to buy a new cycle at KGP. I bought an old Hercules but had to sell it next week to meet emergency expenses connected with intake of nicotine.

One of my friends leaving KGP for good gifted me his old Horse of Second World War Vintage Phillips. But by then I shifted to our Faculty Hostel which was again close to the Main Building and so it was parked permanently outside the Hostel Mess in sun, rain or hail; but nobody would steal it....rather they would offer Rs 10 to get it cleaned so it would be less of an eyesore to visiting dignitaries. I don't remember precisely what happened to it: maybe I gave it away to our Bearer when he wanted it to meet emergency expenses connected with his intake of C(2)H(5)OH.

I enjoyed walking then to my Heart's content again for 7 years.

And then I was shunted to Qrs C1-97 once again against my will. It was not an easy distance to walk to the Main Building for a habitually late riser because Gate # 5, which I am told is now the busiest, was closed and it was a punishing detour; often I had the temptation of scaling the Berlin Wall, but I was no Snaky Willie of Great Train Robbery. So another friend of mine gifted me a 24" Humber Cycle (1945 Model) which was too heavy and high to drag and mount, but ran like a rabbit once you are up. This had to be soon decommissioned since its antique spare parts were no longer available in the market. Ultimately it had to be abandoned in the garage of Qrs B-140 when I retired 30 years later.

A few years after I got married, I was suddenly tempted to buy a Bajaj Chetak because my wife was anything but a walker and my son grew too heavy to be carried about on my head.

Within 6 months of driving the jolly good scooter merrily day in and day out, I found that all my pants had to be reopened and widened and restitched. Then on I decided to take up long evening walks around the Campus. The trouble with Leos like me is that we overdo everything that grips our momentary fancy.

With the result that within two months all my pants had to be reopened, tightened and restitched, which made the Tech Market Bhanja Tailors very very glad.

Yo-yo.

By then Gate # 5 opened during working hours and I happily started walking to the Institute back and forth 4 times a day.

But unfortunately many of my students became Professors by then and used to offer lifts to me which I couldn't refuse without hurting their feelings. And ex-Diro Professor GSS who took a laserly interest in me used to stop his chauffeur-driven Staff Car, open the back door, and invite me to get in...a most embarrassing daily event.

So I bought a third hand nondescript 22" Hero cycle from our Gowala and dragged it along by my side during my walks to the Institute...a silencer for every Good Samaritan.

And then I bought my Maruti 800 to fulfill my life-long dream and used to commute to the Institute driving it; to Parag's fun and frolic:

http://gpsastry.blogspot.com/2010/07/testy-driving.html

But late in the evenings, when every pigeon was home, I used to drive down to Harry's, park my car there, take Tea, walk to the Tech Market, take Tea, walk round the Institute, return to Harry's, take Tea, and drive back home.

I was beaten only by a slightly more crazier Professor: Amalendu of ME. He used to ride on his Bajaj Chetak (mine was nationalized by my son) and whenever he saw me walk he would stop and offer a lift; and when I declined politely but firmly that I was walking under Doctor's orders, he too would remember his Doctor's orders and walk by my side dragging his Chetak all the way wherever I went.

Amalendu won all the rounds handsomely till I quit KGP.


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