I just walked out, with peace and quiet

It was an unusual Sunday. At daybreak, feeling a little sluggish, I decided to use the day as a relaxing holiday. Little did I know, however, that the lull through the first half of the day would be followed by a fierce storm in the afternoon, a storm of a different kind. As it was a typical wintry, cold and wet day outside, I lazed mostly in my bed in the forenoon, first conceiving with my eyes closed and then sketching the layout and overall design of my future retirement hut that I have been wanting to build somewhere in the southern area of Western Australia or in New Zealand, away from a city or an inner suburb.

While I was musing over my future plan, a well-wishing friend sent me an invitation to join him at his home over tea at 4 O’clock, which I gladly accepted. Thereupon, I looked forward to having another round of engaging chat over tea with my friend. On the basis of my numerous visits to his home during the past five years or so, I anticipated an assortment of crispy, delicious vegetable fritters would accompany the tea.

My friend is a decade older than me. I deeply respect his experience, world views and wisdom. Being a likeminded fellow engineering professional, his thoughts on many practical matters of life and spirituality generally align with mine. He has also been an ardent supporter in my political journey over the last couple of years. During my very recent political campaign, as Liberal Party candidate for the federal seat of Fremantle, he not only introduced me to many other respectable members of his community, he also made a generous monetary donation to my campaign before walking excitedly alongside me on a number of occasions during the campaign.

We reached my friend’s home a few minutes past 4 pm. As usual, he greeted us at the entrance door with a warm smile. Thereafter, we were led to the living area where a new, cozy furniture setting greeted us. After settling down on the couch, I presented a copy of my book, “Issues White-anting India’ (2017) to my friend, requesting him to read its Chapter 5 that illustrates a predicated scenario of the subcontinent by around 2040-2050, adding: “In a few decades, some people may call me the Nostradamus of Kashmir.” We exchanged smiles and laughed. Thereupon, my friend asked me in his customary style, “So, what did you do today?”

“I played God,” I replied smilingly.

“Wow! How did you do that?”, he asked again.

“I just lazed in my bed and did nothing for most of the day”, I replied, adding, “with so many bad things happening in the world, when do we see God appearing or doing anything to help? Isn’t God away on an eternal holiday?”

Laughingly, my friend agreed: “Well, that is a good analogy.”

At that moment, my friend’s wife gleefully announced: “Today we have prepared pink Kashmiri (salt) tea and pakoras (vegetable fritters).”

My wife responded, excitedly: “Thank you so much, that would be so nice.”

As four of us started warming characteristically to an enjoyable evening chat over tea, our hostess heard something and excitedly announced: “Children are also coming out.” After a few moments, I heard a door opening. Soon their son appeared momentarily within my visible range, at which moment, I called out my greetings to him: “Hi, how are you?” Although he had seen me after nearly two months, there was no formal greeting or any handshake from him. While turning away towards the kitchen, he commented casually, with a mischievous grin on his face and a clear tone of sarcasm in voice: “So you lost!”

Last time, when we had met at our home, he had refused to accept my campaign leaflet, announcing rudely that he was not going to vote for the Liberal party this time. For some strange reasons, he had shifted his alliance from the Liberals to the Labor party.

Unprepared for such an opening greeting, I replied, philosophically: “No, I won actually.”

He did not like my response. Affirming my defeat in the recent federal election, he yelled out loudly: “No man, you lost and you lost badly. We talk about it every day at my office.”

I clarified: “I see my candidacy as a personal win. You see, within about 30 years of becoming a refugee in India, I ran for federal parliament here in Australia! Isn’t that a win for an immigrant like me?”

He reacted angrily: “What refugee? Ah, that! But man, you lost and you lost badly”, increasing the pitch and tempo of his voice with each word that he uttered while still standing away from my gaze.

I responded, “Yes, but in three years’ time, we’ll return”, referring to the Liberal Party’s wishful return to power in 2025. Upon hearing this, he completely lost control over himself. Loudly shooting out a barrage of words, while still standing away from my eyes in the kitchen area, I heard him shouting, “Get out, man, get out of here.”

To my bad luck, for a change, God was awake and alert during those very moments. Seemingly, my act of blasphemy was unpardonable in the eyes of God. Logically, there had to be a quick act of retribution against me. God had acted through the host’s son. How could I have been so audacious in claiming to have played God earlier in the day? How could I have forgotten that God does not like jokes! My audacity had perhaps also offended the legendary Nostradamus. I was humbled, I had to vacate the scene. Instantaneously, I stood up and walked quietly out of the main entrance of the house. As I drove out of my friend’s driveway, despite feeling alone and disrespected, a strange kind of calm and peace descended upon me, perhaps I had accepted and served my sentence.

Fortunately, in the moment of indignation, I had exercised my best option – the option of staying calm and walking out silently, which may have minimised the damage. Deep inside, however, I also wondered if it was the last time that I was pulling out of my friend’s driveway. Logically, nothing in the world would force me to return for experiencing another round of potential humiliation. Proverbially, a burnt child dreads the fire. In the mix of my emotions, I also felt deeply sad for my friend. The time I stood up and left, he looked slumped in the couch, petrified. Of course, he did not deserve such an embarrassment, no father does. Fritters and the pink Kashmiri tea too would have been shell-shocked somewhere in the kitchen. Was it a storm in a tea cup? Only time will tell!

Although my friend tried to reach out to me several times that evening, through repeated phone calls and messages, I chose to exercise the proven, age-old wisdom of silence till all parties recover from the incident, reflect and reconcile. Later in the night, as I tried to recover in my bed, my thoughts suddenly drifted back to my dream hut that I had conceived earlier in the day. How badly I wished to be in that hut in that moment, far away from people! Out of care for my friend, however, I sent him a late-night reconciliatory message, assuring him of a possible resumption of our usual ‘chat over tea or coffee’, albeit at our favourite café, in the near future.

Interestingly, during my election campaign, I had walked fearlessly through the streets of the Fremantle electorate area, historically known for strong support to the Labor and The Greens parties.  I had also knocked at the doors of numerous houses and spoken with many electors. There was not even a single instance of anyone showing any sign of disrespect towards me or shouting such a verbal abuse. Generally, people liked me and, as a matter of fact, many Labor and Green supporters and volunteers showed support and respect for me.

While life must move forward, as mother earth keeps rotating and revolving around the sun, some questions may remain unanswered: “What made this 41-year-old grown-up son of my friend treat me at his home with such disdain and contempt? How did he forget that I was also a human being, much older than him, an invited guest and his father’s friend, and a responsible member of the community?” I knew he was not very happy with the previous Liberal government because, reportedly, his salary had not increased much over the past decade. Reportedly, he holds a law degree and works in a government department. Whatever be the reason, as a human, he had completely failed in that moment. Perhaps, the world has not treated him well. Perhaps, he is just an unhappy person.

My heart goes to my friend for having to suffer such undeserved embarrassment. It is not hard to imagine what an upright, dignified and self-respecting gentleman like him would be feeling.”

… Bill K Koul (Perth, Western Australia, 20 June 2022)