Email
Print
ShareDark clouds. Black thunder with a flash of lightening. Power cut. The first drops of rain. The smell of wet earth. The red gulmohar in all its glory. Am I back to where I belong? In the city of Ranchi, where I was born and brought up?
As soon as the rains stop, Ma wants me to get some vegetables from Reliance Fresh. The local sabziwaala will not do for her any longer. Out of my house, I first decide to get a haircut. The saloon I used to visit is still there. As I step inside, the first thing that strikes me are the various posters of MS Dhoni, Ranchi's most famous son. It takes me a moment to realise that posters portray the evolving hairstyle of Dhoni, over the years.
The barber still recognises me. After some pleasantries, he wants to know if I want a 'Dhoni' haircut. "Please. Whatever little hair is left on my head, I don't want it spoiled," I reply.
Small talk starts. And I ask him about his business. "Dhoni bhaiyya ki dua se, sab acha hai. Har dui teen mahine main hairstyle badal lete hain," he replies.
Every time Dhoni changes his hairstyle, everyone wants to copy it and he does
roaring business.
His words reminded me of a time when I had a lot more hair on my head. Those days my father would accompany me to the saloon and decide exactly the way my hair should look. Times clearly had changed.
Haircut done, I visit my alma mater, St. Xavier's College. One of the high points of studying at St. Xavier's was the fact that eight out of the ten functional cinema halls in Ranchi were within a radius of 2.5 km. Naturally, in the first two years of college, I watched 42 movies, till the day I went to see Hum Aapke Hain Kaun for the 12th time and ran into Ma sitting two rows ahead of me. The fact that ticket prices ranged from a minimum of Rs3 to a maximum of Rs7.25 did help. The choice is now severely limited for those studying at St. Xavier's. Out of the eight theatres, three have closed down.
My reminiscences are interrupted by the red board of Reliance Fresh. I walk in, and find the place quite hygienic, not like the bazaars I used to buy vegetables from. Thanks to big retailers like Reliance Fresh, the local bazaars in the city have suddenly become passe.
When you can buy better stuff in an air-conditioned environment, why would you want to go to the local bazaar, trying to avoid muck and cow droppings, hoping you won't be bitten by the stray dogs roaming all over the place, looking into the sky to ensure that the crow has not chosen your white shirt today to shit on, and bargaining with the vegetable vendor, all at the same time.
Shopping done, I am back home and see my younger sister making a telephone call to book tickets in advance for a new movie at Inox, the newly opened multiplex, where tickets cost Rs100 each. It reminds me of a time when Raja Babu had just released. Wanting to be the first ones in the city to watch Karishma gyrate to "Sarkaye leyo khatiya jaada lage," my friends and I used leather belts to wade through the huge crowd and get to the ticket window.
The multiplex is as good as the ones in the bigger cities and hence does not have any bed bugs that can have a good time on my back. Now who can sit through a movie in Ranchi without a few bed bugs to give you company? On top of that, this film, featuring reel-cum-real life lovers, a former Miss India and the poor man's Hrithik Roshan, was terribly boring.
On the way back home, we cross a few of the city landmarks. I pass the Plaza theatre where I had spent a few afternoons, bunking college, and watching adult movies. It is now playing Rickshewaali: Sab Ko Lift Dene Waali. Needless to say, it is for adults only. Thank God for small mercies. Not everything in this city has changed. Some things have been preserved just the way I would have liked it.
