A farm of white short hairs on the shrunken head, the dark deep circles around his half shut drowsy eyes, a stoop back and his china radio, whose ear phones he always used to put on and linger around. Yes, if you see a man like that on the streets, that may be most probably Nanu Bhai.
He walked fast but with short steps which seldom found a straight path. He always sported a formal look. His pants always buckled above the navel around the thin waist which hung loose above his ankles. He was thin and average heighted, may be 5.5 inch. He couldn't speak properly and his tongue used to slip unless he used invectives. His distinct characteristcs made him an inseperable part of our area.
Six years ago. It was evening. The vehicles were moving at quite good speed as it was weekend. I was returning back home from tuition with my friends when I first met Nanu Bhai. I was talking and laughing with my friends as we waited to cross the road.
Somebody tapped my shoulder and said," Will you please help me cross the road?".
I turned around and mocked at him," The road is in front of you. You look just fine physically. Why can't you walk across by yourself?"
And then I laughed thinking I just cracked the joke of the millennium. But there was shocking silence in my friends .
Nanu Bhai paused for a moment, turned around and started walking in search of help from someone else.
My friend bitterly said," Why did you say that? That guy has vision problem. If you couldn't help him, atleast you should have not made fun of him".
His words just moved me. I went upto him and asked," Oh! you wanted help in crossing the road?" Nanu Bhai replied without a grudge," Yes!".
I apologised, " I am sorry. I misunderstood you" and helped him cross the road.
Nanu Bhai sometimes gets really mad. He is whimsical. One can never predict when his mood will swirl. Hence, people kept distance from him. One thing that made him damn mad was somebody telling him, "India haar gayi!" (meaning India lost the cricket match). He would throw whatever comes handy at that moment. It may be his 100 times stitched chappal or a stone that could make you bleed till death, but never his radio.
Nanu bhai always carry that radio with him and he keeps humming songs. It's difficult to figure out which song it is, may be those are his own compositions. It's the same radio he has been carrying since many years, atleast since I was a child. I still cannot understand what's the mystery behind it. The radio's battery slot always remained empty.
If he didn't find any object to hit with, he would shower a thundering rain of invectives on you. Don't even dare to give him a push even by mistake. He would chase you till your home.May be, even inside.
Once I saw him standing at a bus stop. A bus came and passengers boarded it. The bus was just about to leave when Nanu bhai asked the conductor on the back door," Will this bus go to XYZ place?" The conductor didn't replied and rung the bell signalling the driver to move on. Nanu bhai tried to catch up with the accelerating bus. He shouted again," Will the bus go to XYZ place?" Conductor said "No" Frustrated by the delay in answer, Nanu Bhai pulled the conductor out of the bus . The bus went away leaving the fate of conductor at the hands of Nanu Bhai.
There is another funny incident about Nanu Bhai, I remember. On a cheerful Sunday evening, we were playing cricket in our building's small compound. The aunty staying on the 4th floor shouted to the plumber who was passing by. " Arey oh! Chchich Chichch! Jara Upar to aana!"(Hey, Please come up) The plumber signalled that he was getting late to be somewhere and would come in sometime.
Aunty didn't noticed Nanu Bhai was walking behind him. Nanu Bhai took it too personally, I guess. He thought aunty was addressing to him. So he looked up and replied," haan ? aata hoon~!" and went running to the staircase as if a lottery awaited him up theer. Hadn't the elders stopped him from entering the building , it would have been hard to imagine what would have happened up there that day.
I see him around seldom these days. In all these years, Nanu bhai has grown old. His back has now become stoop. His hairs are as white as milk now. But strolling across the streets whether it be night or day, scorching heat or submerging heavy rains, he still listens to the tunes of that mal functional radio with whole pride.
