Sridhar Rao is erased

A few glasses lay broken from an unusual brawl a while ago. I sat at the corner table a few inches from a closed window. Whenever I come to this restaurant, I prefer to sit here. The haunting smell of fifty and odd years that no phenol could erase attracts me to this corner. An unassuming charm of loneliness lingers in this corner: between me and myself. It is also strange that despite my reluctance to engage with the rest of the world, I met almost all the who's who of the town in this corner table. In a city where everyone wants to escape from everyone, this corner table is the last resort, says my supplier, Sridhar Rao. Sridhar Rao is a fascinating man with his choice of words and phrases that he acquired from his extensive reading of Kannada literature. To make things better, I got him an unlimited membership in just books and in return, he doesn't allow anyone to occupy the corner table after six in the evening. Every day, he shows a new book that he is reading. I wonder how many books there are in Kannada that keep him occupied for the last three years!

Anyway, let us come back to our conversation about today's brawl. Today, as I walked in, I found Sridhar Rao sitting where I usually sit. He was without his uniform and seemed very serious. I walked up to him and wished his as usual.

He refused to acknowledge my greeting and instead showed me a letter. It was his resignation letter. In his beautiful handwriting, it looked almost like a drawing.

"…I do not have answers for many questions but have questions for all answers. Among the tables, when the city unravels in conversations of love, hate and friendship, I walk like an invisible ghost taking orders from anyone and every one of this city that I never belonged. Between the plastic smiles and courtesy greetings, I believed the city lives here- among the polished wooden tables, chairs and hungry souls. I lived here. Today, my son died. He probably was sixteen or seventeen. I never noticed his growth as I was busy serving people here. After I got the news today, I looked around my world. It was the same. Laughing people, hugging people and at arm's length among the tables, the place continued as if I did not exist for a system I take orders and serve. I cannot take this any longer.

I quit "

His letter shocked me. Without looking at my face, he asked, "Sir, can you check the grammar and edit this letter. This is my first or perhaps last piece of writing; I want it perfect".

I was in a dilemma: how would I convince him that my knowledge of English is much worse than his as it is an acquired language for me. He strangely assumed that everyone who came there was good in English! After that, I learned that I was the tenth person he had been serving for the last three years, and I turned him down for the same reason.

Looking deep into my eyes firmly, he asked, "Sir, what makes you the rich who can order me throughout my life?"

I hung my head without an answer. What happened next was a surprise. He got up and started breaking all the tables and chairs. Everybody rushed to the scene, and an ugly brawl ensued. It took almost ten minutes to bring him under control. He threw away his resignation letter as they dragged him out of the restaurant in front of thirty to forty scared, educated eyes.

After a while, when everything became normal, a new boy came to my table to take my order.

"What would you like to have sir?" he asked politely.

Sridhar Rao stands erased among the tables and chairs.