MS was my classmate in Primary school. One of the easiest boys to talk to, friendly, balanced, lots of banter and sometimes serious too and we got along well. There were odd moments of discord. In 4th standard, he called V by some obnoxious name and when I threatened to tell the teacher about it, jeered me with "go and tell your father". Father was a no-no word and I was forced to escalate the matter. It finally ended with our teacher reminding him that my father was most likely to teach him in High School. This was an unfair advantage that I often enjoyed. Anyway, it was a rare blip and we patched up soon enough. But I don't remember much of him after 6th standard like most others and next I met him was like a decade later.
It was 2002 and I had gone home on leave. Going to Mangalore was customary; I love the journey, I was proud of my money then and I did most of my shopping there. So I was on my way in a shared taxi when suddenly I discovered that MS was my co-passenger. I doubt if I recognized him first; he had a small beard, looked fairer than ever and even had a headgear of some sort. Anyway, he was in the front seat, I was directly behind him and the taxi was crowded so conversation was difficult and we just exchanged general details. He reached his destination first and proceeded to pay for both of us. I was protesting when he turned back, said it was okay, smiled, pressed my hand and walked away. I hate it when someone else pays my bill but that had taken the backseat now. Why did he press my hand like that? Was it just a normal, friendly gesture? But this was a new precedent, even for me. Would he do that to others too? By then enough people around me had made me feel like a sinner on account of N and I wondered if it was MS's way of telling me that he knew about it too. That he thought I didn't mind these things. Answer was hard to come by and it troubled me.
Today if MS meets me again, he may hardly remember that day in taxi, much less the hand. And here I am, still wondering about it.