A curious case of misplaced pride
HOLLYWOOD star Richard Gere was leisurely roaming the streets of Jaipur, accompanied by Lillete Dubey, an Indian actor and his co-star in an English movie, a part of which was being shot in the city. When they reached a crowded market, some people recognised Lillete and started walking up to her for selfies. Some even requested Gere to click photos for them, much to the embarrassment of Lillete, and he, smiling naughtily, obliged them. When she tried to make them understand that the person whom they were asking to click photos was an international star, they simply said to him: ‘Achcha sir, aap ke saath bhi lenge baad mein. Pehle aap madam ke saath ek le lijiye (Okay, sir. We’ll take one with you later. First, please click our photo with madam).’
I read about this episode recently in the gossip column of a magazine. It triggered the memory of an amusing incident from the early 1980s, when I was a manager at a bank branch in the heart of Shimla. Strolling on the Mall on a sunny afternoon, I serendipitously ran into an old classmate, whom I had not met or heard of for the past 15 years. She used to be pally with me in college, but we lost touch with each other after graduation. I vaguely remembered that she had studied law and had been practising in an obscure town in Himachal Pradesh. From the skinny, chirpy girl of her student years, she had grown into a graceful woman full of poise. Ambling leisurely on the Mall, we became so engrossed in reminiscing about the good old days that I even forgot to ask about her present whereabouts and her reason for being in Shimla.
Walking beside a charming lady on the crowded Mall, I was filled with a sense of pride. My ego got another boost when, while passing by the Scandal Point, a policeman clicked his heels and saluted. I nodded in response and whispered to my companion: ‘These cops keep dropping in at our bank and respect us immensely for our specialised service.’
We had coffee at Gaiety Club and talked about the pranks we played during our student life. But whenever I tried to enquire about her present life, she politely, and cleverly, changed the topic. After a while, we returned to the Mall and were about to say goodbye when I noticed an infant girl crying profusely in the middle of the road. She seemed to have been separated from her parents, who must have been busy shopping somewhere. I suggested to my friend that we should entrust the child to the nearby police reporting room and she readily agreed.
The moment we entered the reporting room, all the four policemen sitting there along with their incharge stood up and joined in a hurried salute. I looked at my companion with awe and surprise, my face contorted into a pitiable question mark. She responded to the salute and, with a mischievous smile, whispered into my ear: ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’m the new sessions judge posted in this town.’
