Ramki Profile picture
7 Jan, 11 tweets, 2 min read
A watchman in our society, on an average, lasts 3 months. Just when we get a hang of each other's eccentricities, he disappears. So you have to start all over with the new man. 'Don't ever ring my bell twice... I carry my bags myself, thank you... '. And so on. +
Rakesh was different. He looked 16, though he was 21. Wide eyed, eager, sincere to a fault. He would magically get to the gate before you could honk, he'd never miss a courier, the water tank never got empty on his watch, the cars he washed sparkled. +
Before Rakesh, we had a run of disastrous men. He was like Kapil Dev walking in at 17 for 5. In a couple of days, we knew we had a keeper. Like those animated drops of lubricant in Castrol ads, Rakesh was everywhere at the same time, keeping our Society humming efficiently. +
Residents competed with each other to offer him a snack, a cup of tea, a t shirt from a sales conference, an old mobile phone. They all made small talk with him. Like writers on a talent show production, they discovered his back story. Jaunpur. Sick father. 2 sisters. Cows. +
He worked days in our society. And nights at another. He had no home in Mumbai. Yet he showed no signs of fatigue. Even Mrs.Menon had no complaint. That's saying something. Her last complaint was, '..the watchman makes loud noises brushing his teeth... unacceptable..' +
The society spoke to Rakesh's body-shopping bosses and made him our 24x7 watchman. That's when we discovered that he also studied by night. BCom via correspondence. Good Lord, did this man escape from a Bollywood screenplay and land at our doorstep? +
He obviously bathed and washed discreetly and at unearthly hours, because we never came across him (I quote from one of Mrs.Menon's written complaints about prior watchmen) '.. walking around half naked in his towel... indecent fellow...ladies in the society..unacceptable...' +
He washed 10 cars, including mine, in our society. To make additional money to send back to Jaunpur. A service station couldn't do a better job. Everything would be spotless. Inside and out. He'd hand me back the keys of my SUV, my pride and joy, exactly at 8.15 every a.m. +
I could go on about the legend of Rakesh. But you have places to go and things to do. Suffice it to say that all good things come to an end. Watchmen will suddenly disappear and drop out of your lives. To the list of Mangal, Manoj, Babloo, Yadav, and Gurung, was added Rakesh. +
It was a Monday. I remember that clearly. The water ran out. People were calling out for Rakesh from their windows and balconies. Had the poor lad worked himself to the bone? Was he ill? I went down to check. +
There was no sign of Rakesh. He had vanished.
And so had three cars. Including my beloved SUV.

ANTHE.

• • •

Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to force a refresh
 

Keep Current with Ramki

Ramki Profile picture

Stay in touch and get notified when new unrolls are available from this author!

Read all threads

This Thread may be Removed Anytime!

PDF

Twitter may remove this content at anytime! Save it as PDF for later use!

Try unrolling a thread yourself!

how to unroll video
  1. Follow @ThreadReaderApp to mention us!

  2. From a Twitter thread mention us with a keyword "unroll"
@threadreaderapp unroll

Practice here first or read more on our help page!

More from @ramkid

1 Jan
This isn't a story set in the year everyone loves to hate. In fact, that was a pretty good year for Rahul. It suited him well. He was anyway an expert at staying indoors and shunning human company. +
He liked nothing more than to make two packets of Maggi using three sachets of tastemaker, a cup of tea brewed for precisely 150 seconds, and then settle down on his chair that was specifically chosen because it could rest the plate and cup on its broad arms. And a book too. +
He'd sit there and think thoughts like 'Even my name is so lame. It's the default option every copywriter uses while writing an ad about a young executive. Don't they know most Rahuls are in their fifties now?' +
Read 17 tweets
31 Dec 20
I have only one tip for would be entrepreneurs. Make your signature short. Sala, bahut sign maarne padte hain.
I hate my signature. I'm stuck with it ever since I 'created' it for my 10th standard boards. Someone should have told me that it would haunt me all my life.
People with long names, you don't have to spell it all out. This is for you, Anantapadmanabhaswami. You can reduce your name to A scrawl i. Thank me when your accountant thumps a 79 page agreement to be signed in three directions on every page.
Read 7 tweets
20 Dec 20
My father likes to brag. Specially about his athletic abilities. Truth is, he does manage to catch the toast before it falls to the floor. At half his age, I can't do that. "Keeper's reflexes", he says. The rest of us exchange 'there he goes again' glances. Mom just smiles. +
We've heard his 'I could have played for India' story a few times. About how one dropped catch in a crucial match cost him his India berth. How he quit the game after that. And became an actuary. Instead of people studying his stats, he studied theirs. +
It's true that his keeper-reflexes have saved many a pickle jar, egg, and tea cup. He has thumbed his nose at gravity so often. we jokingly call him Rakesh Sharma. He'd have preferred Kiri or Rod or Alan. +
Read 12 tweets
15 Dec 20
Bill Bernbach, the most quotable of all the advertising Gods, once said, "It's not a principle till it costs you money.' It is only as an entrepreneur (I wish there was a less ostentatious word for this), that I fully understood the genius of that simple sentence. +
Every now and again, you meet a moral dilemma. They are the most troubling kind. Unlike the 'sambar daalke ya alag?' variety of dilemma. I'm talking about business opportunities that come with the faint, or not so faint, whiff of blackness in the lentils. +
We live in a grayscale world. Viewed through multi-hued glasses. A world where doctored and engineered have unflattering meanings. Forget about squeaky clean, nobody even seems to be scratchy clean. Even hallowed seems like a typo for hollowed. +
Read 9 tweets
5 Dec 20
This is a story about how a mobile phone saved my life. Some people say it's a true story. I am on the fence about it. +
I was driving my car down a lonely road in a jungle. At night. I was alone. I left my charger at home. My phone battery was down to 10%. The network was like an adolescent boy's moustache. In some angles you could faintly discern it. +
Did I tell you I was in a jungle? You know they have wild animals, right? I should have checked my tyres. That's what I was thinking, when my engine coughed. Trouble comes from where you don't expect it. After some Nazir Hussain style death bed histrionics, my engine died. +
Read 16 tweets
16 Nov 20
He'd have to go, she thought. She couldn't stand the sight, smell, or sound of him any longer. +
18 years ago, a common love for Agatha Christie brought them together at a pavement book shop. Animated discussions about their favourite Poirot mysteries fuelled a whirlwind romance that ended in an impulsive marriage. +
He then gradually crushed her life to fit into 634 square feet of utter frustration. And when he started working from home, it felt more like 240, give or take the balcony. +
Read 13 tweets

Did Thread Reader help you today?

Support us! We are indie developers!


This site is made by just two indie developers on a laptop doing marketing, support and development! Read more about the story.

Become a Premium Member ($3/month or $30/year) and get exclusive features!

Become Premium

Too expensive? Make a small donation by buying us coffee ($5) or help with server cost ($10)

Donate via Paypal Become our Patreon

Thank you for your support!

Follow Us on Twitter!