He always loved to put in more meanings to his words than one. He had developed notoriety for his puns too. Everyone looked at his utterances with suspicion. It had got to a state that even his compliments were looked at cynically. Ironically, everyone considered him cynical. Of course, the reputation got to his head. Every time he spoke he tried to bring in all the clever constructs available to humanity. They complicated his thoughts and he ended up uttering things that even he did not understand. Even a simple thought like "It is a beautiful day" was analysed with misgivings. Life was getting complicated. But he loved the situation. He believed that he was helping people think, even when did not have to. He believed that the using of grey cells would help people keep Alzheimer away.
As one turns from Wallajah road to Triplicane high road, one is hit by the shock of the traffic. Shops thickly lined the two sides. A row of two wheelers were parked haphazardly on both the sides of the road. Authorities were unsuccessful in determining the locations of the sidewalks that existed on their plans. The walkers did not need the sidewalks; they considered themselves to be a part of the traffic and used the road. They weaved in and out of the traffic like an autorickshaw. Everything that seemed wrong elsewhere seemed right on Triplicane high road - the road was plucked out of a 1980's R K Laxman cartoon.
Among the shops selling cloths, dry fruits and other whatevers existed the "Babylon Cafe". Ah! That reminds me. A few years ago, he visited the city of Raipur in Chhattisgarh. These were the early days of the Five star hotels in the city. Hyatt had just come up and a Taj existed somewhere on the periphery. But people of the city swore by their favourite hotel, Babylon. But they did not pronounce Babylon as Babylon like in the song "By the rivers of Babylon". Instead they pronounced it as baby-lone. This pronunciation annoyed him and he tried to correct people but to no effect. They continued to call the hotel baby-lone. "Maybe there is a reason for it to be called so" was his conclusion.
Babylon cafe looked bright and new among the shops that were gnarled with age. The light coloured sunmica beckoned one and all. As in all tea shops, the owner sat at the entrance surrounded by bottles of cakes and cookies. He welcomed one and all with a friendly though smile-less nod. The insides of the shop had two tables with four chairs each. The tea making took place at the other end of the shop. The summer heat seemed preferable compared to the heat inside. Yet people sat chatting in the shop for many minutes sipping their hot tea.
He bit a piece of the cake, which should ideally be referred to as "delicious cake". She nibbled the edges of a saltier than sugary butter biscuit. From time to time, they sipped the light coloured liquid that was referred to as tea at the Babylon café. He loved his tea strong with a little milk and a good amount of sugar. He was averse to the concept of ginger tea and masala tea. He believed a tea should only contain tea and no other supplements. The only acceptable compromise was cardamom. He loved the sugary, milky and cardomomed tea. He attributed the reason for this peculiar inconsistency to the fact that he treated cardomom tea (or elaichi chai) as a variety of payasam and not tea at all. The tea at Babylon café was one of the finest specimen of tea flavoured payasam.
He turned around and asked the owner to pass a few samosas. Not the humongous shit-shaped North Indian samosas but the small triangular South Indian ones that Chennaites lovingly referred to as samsa. Four tiny samosas landed on their table. He picked one up and looked appreciatively at its shape. She looked at the plate and its content with suspicion. He coaxed her to try one but she hesitated. She swiped the oil off one of the samosas and looked it with disgust. He was offended by her action and expression. He said with mock concern "Oh, I forgot! You have just returned from Germany."
The next day at around the same time, they found themselves in similar circumstances; except for the absence of the triangular samosas, which did not live up to the high standards Chennaites demanded. She said in a worried voice "Last evening, I wondered for a long time about what you said. You know, that Germany thing? I thought hard to find what you meant by it. Sometimes I am so ashamed at my slowness. It took a full 30 minutes for me to realize that you were referring to germ-many and not to Germany. I am terrible."
He stopped munching his cake and looked at her incredulously. His lips froze at a grimace. Only for a moment though. The grimace turned into an arrogant smile as he continued munching his cake.
