Say, what?

It was a sweltering hot afternoon. We’d both been waiting in sweaty, bad-tempered silence for 15 minutes for that elusive 7F. Out of the blue, Karan turned to me, a quizzical expression on his face.

Karan: Dude…how do I get to Tam Brahm?

Me: Say, what?

Tam Brahm, da. Where’s Tam Brahm?

Uhmmm, machan, I’m in no mood for jokes. What the heck are you on about? I’m a Tam Brahm. If you are talking averages, Tam Brahm is probably right now at the Karpagambal Mess in Mylapore.

Karan’s quizzical expression got quizzical-er. Ass, don’t irritate. What the hell do you mean TamBrahm is in Mylapore. You pass it everyday going to SRM. I want to know if there’s a bus that goes there coz I don’t want to go by train. It’s the stop after Chromepet or something no.

Enlightement dawns on me. Jesus! You mean Taaambaram?!! Wtf?!?**&^%?! I struggle with several emotions simultaneously – sympathy for this poor North Indian, stuck in an alien land; anger, when I remember he’s been in Chennai for 10 years, and sheer dumbfoundedness at the ridiculousness of it all, culminating in a snort of shocked amusement. What the hell do you want to go to Taaambaram, for? I open my mouth extra wide and talk in slow motion, to show him how its done.

His quizzical face changes into the well-known evasive face. Nothing da, nothing, meeting a friend.

Daii… figure, ah?

Ya. Long story machan, leave it no. Anyways, I’m picking her up at Taambrahm (there is a slight improvement in enunciation, and I let the ‘anyways’ slide), and we’re…uhm…going out for a few days. Can I get to Coimbetoo easily from there?

Coimbatore?! Weird choice of romantic destination, but, hey, who am I to judge. You need to take a train from Egmore or Central da, for Coimbatore, not sure there are trains from Tambaram.

Train ah?? What the hell are you blabbering? Im picking her up at Taambrahm and we’re going to Bangalore by bus. Catching our bus at Coimbetoo CMBT.

I find a pole and walk into it. Repeatedly.

I start teaching him the difference between KOyambEdu and Coimbattoor, but I look at that bloody confused, helpless, puppy dog expression of his behind those thick-rimmed Sania Mirza glasses, and sigh, and throw up my arms in vain. Why, I scream silently to the Tamil and Hindi and English gods, why, can’t you, for once, use the same phonetics?!

Luckily the 7F draws up and Karan regains some ground by buying us both tickets for RoundTana. The gods have made their point.

We get down at our stop, and spend 5 minutes arguing about where to go for lunch that doesnt require more than 2 minutes walking. Karan brightens up with an idea.

Dude, I want to have some Kootoo-Kozzambu. Let’s take an auto to that Chettinad restaurant.

I skip the say, what routine – I’ve heard this one before. Which one?

That one da….Kaarai something…. I can visibly see him mimic my demonstration of ‘Taaaambaram”.

I remain silent, waiting, hoping, for something good.

….Kaaraikoothi. That’s the one! He finishes, triumphantly.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I struggle to keep a straight face. That’s a good idea. You tell the auto driver where you want to go I say, and step back, to watch the fun.

 

(All in good humour, coz I know the opposite is equally true! The Karan here is a fictitious friend to whom I’ve given all the choice dialogues!)