At times K and I wonder about what gave us the courage to buy our first apartment together.
2003 if I remember right.Three years into our marriage. Around five to six years in our careers. With a loan which seemed like the fiscal deficit of a tinpot dictatorship.
In Mumbai. Bandra.
That’s Ginza, Tokyo, for you if you don’t know India and real estate rates here.
Well, that’s what youth does to you.
‘Call me TLG,’ said the elderly Sindhi gentleman we bought it from. ‘My friends call me prince. Just ‘uncle’ would do too.’
The quirky sixty something year old, think Sandy Kominsky of the show of the same name, wasn’t too fond of the ‘old fashioned’ name his parents had given him.
He decided on a discount to give us on the price he had quoted. It magically covered the renovation costs. I don’t know how. We hadn’t told him the figure.
We became friends.
He liked to hang around young people.
‘I hate oldies,’ he said. ‘They make me feel old.’
He would take us to restaurants, cafes, his club (Khar Gymkhana) for breakfast, tea and dinner. This became a regular affair. He would never let us pay. We once did so without telling him and he looked at us the next time with a cross expression and said, ‘never again.’
He would call us home and call for mangoes, food from his club and, when he heard K loved fudge, he would ask his friends going to Lonavla to get a box back for her.
You could say he craved company. I would like to say he was big hearted.
K & I began adulting as the years went by. We had more commitments on our time. Work, friends, family, gym.
We had a bit more money too to go out to restaurants again by ourselves. This had ended earlier when we took the loan and were broke.
Uncle would call us often still, but now at times we would say no.
All right, all right. More than just ‘at times.’
Then one morning we received a call from his son in law, ‘uncle passed away in his sleep last night. I know you were very close to him.’
We dropped everything and rushed to his house one last time.
There was a smile on his face. He looked content. At peace.
This was just the death he would have wanted.
Without bothering anyone.
Close to 15 years later, I called in for breakfast from Candies today. In the apartment which we moved into thanks to selling the one which brought uncle into our lives.
They had sent chips with the sandwiches from Candies. I looked at K and said, ‘remember how uncle had first told us about Candies and how he would buy a bag of chips and the chocolate cake from there for his grandkids?’
She smiled at me in between her work calls and stopped to have a bite of a sandwich.
I stuffed the chips in my sandwich and began my breakfast and thought about how happy and proud uncle would be to see the apartment we are in today.
Here’s to FBI, Khar Gym, Tangy Tomatoes, Pali Residency and your favourite sandwich-wala by the sea uncle.
No, don’t worr. I won’t reveal your your real name.
