Sunday, January 7, 2001		Article

RAM Bilas heaved a long sigh, put his hands on my shoulders and said: "Khullar Saab, all I want in my remaining life is bed-cum-bath".

"Don’t you have one already"? I asked restoring his hands to their original position.

"I have, but my bed is far removed from my bath". There was remorse in his voice.

I felt that Ram Bilas was not his normal self. Something abnormal must have happened.

"Ram Bilas, tell me truly what has happened. I am your friend in your old age, come on". I knew how to get Ram Bilas on the track. He is my old colleague. We began as clerks together, we were superceded together, we drank together, we retired together. We applied for DDA SFS flats together. And lo and behold, the irony or the luck that we got flats in Vasant Kunj together.

Since I touched his tenderest chord, Ram Bilas opened up:

"Brother, I sleep in the corridor in the summer and on the Barasati in the winter. I bathe at municipal tap and go outside for my toilet".

I was shocked beyond words. I was scandalised.

"How come that, Ram Bilas"?.

"Where do you go out for toilet. And why do you go out"?

"I go to Nelson Mandela Road when there is a call of nature. But if it is urgent, I go to Mahipal Road, I mean when there is a clarion call of nature". But that road is a disaster, speeding trucks in the morning and speeding Marutis throughout the day. One requires a taxi to cross this road?"

"Are there toilets on these roads?"

"All roads in Delhi are toilets before and after the sun rises and sets".

"But how come, Ram Bilas, Is this flat not in your name?" I asked since I knew that both he and I had got this flat after paying excrutiating instalments. Those were the days when we sold the Month’s newspapers as ‘Ruddi’ to bring vegetables at home. Today the whole colony has been taken over by the filthy businessman, and indeed the business woman. Come to Vasant Kunj and I will tell you what I mean.

Overwhelmed Ram Bilas told me that the flat was still his but only on paper.

"Who lives there, have you rented it out": I asked.

"My son lives there with his large family. He says I should be comfortable in a Barsati which he has illegally constructed on the roof.

"Why don’t you talk it out to him?"

"There is nothing to talk about. The last time I talked to him was on telephone. You know he is very busy. The problem is that inspite of all that I love him". Ram Bilas became sentimental.

"Then how do you go about with your Bed-Cum-Bath idea?"

"You know, Iqbal Singh, the ex-serviceman lives all alone. He has agreed to allow me a bed-cum-bath. He is the eldest citizen in the area. Even he does not remember his age. A kind soul. If you don’t mind, Khullar Saab, let us go to him".

I accompanied him wordlessly. Ram Bilas rang the bell.

There was no response. He rang it again. Once again. It was at that juncture I realised that there was no light, a sort of daily feature. Ram Bilas started knocking the door. Yet there was no response.

In sheer desperation we went to the market to make a telephone call to Iqbal Singh. The bell rang but nobody picked up. We did not give up.

At long last a voice came: "Hellow". It was the ex-serviceman.

"Iqbal Singh, where were you all this time?"

"Hold on". It seemed he adjusted himself, took another five minutes. Then he said:" I was in the toilet. Where else I could be?"

It was this toilet which Ram Bilas was supposed to share. He had no heart to see the bed.