A Gandhian's 'vintage' collection

I had left my house for lodges a couple of times during my college days. Maybe this was because of my great fascination for old, stinky lodges with common toilets. I was also attracted by the mysterious presence of creatures like bedbugs, mosquitoes and cockroaches in the interiors of these ‘budget’ rooms. There was a sense of rhythm in our live-in relationship.
The cockroaches were the most liberal, as they were occasional visitors. Once in a while, someone would perform a mid-night-walk over my body. I could even feel in my deep sleep the ‘hairy legs and antennae’ moving from one end of my body to the other. The action would last only for a couple of seconds. The mosquitoes attacked me only when they wanted food for thought. The bedbugs were the most dangerous. They were good mind-readers and they did this even in my deep sleep. Despite the disturbances, we shared an absolute tent of unity.
A friend of mine had an interesting experience when he was staying at a rented house in Kozhikode. There were three rooms. The first one was occupied by a lay-out artist who worked for a Malayalam weekly. My friend stayed in the second room while a young poet called Jayshankar (who is a popular TV serial artist now) used the third one. The house-owner was a Gandhian who was passionate about two things: literature and khadi. He was not particular about those who came to his house and left, what he wanted was rent, and that too in the first week of every month. The tenants, most of them aspiring poets and filmmakers, were good human beings, but they lacked one important thing: Money. So whenever the house-owner came to collect the rent, they would talk about Uroob and his Ummachu (One of his favourites).
When the house was given for rent, the Gandhian had a small request. He was apologetic about a 'key-less' wardrobe inside Jayshankar’s room. “I am sorry, I have lost the key a couple of months ago. Don’t break it, I will get a duplicate key,” he told his tenants.
One day Jayshankar got two roommates. He was actually struggling to pay the rent, as he had lost his job. The new roommates, Satish and Ramakrishnan, had a fairly good collection of books. Since they were running out of space, one of them decided to open the wardrobe. Jayshankar was not happy, but curious. Finally, the two broke the lock, using an iron rod and a piece of rock. For a moment, they couldn’t believe their eyes. Hundreds of Hindi porn books, all printed in Bombay. The drawings were awesome. They soon packed the entire collection in a plastic bag and hid it under the cot.
By the time, the house-owner had reached the spot. He was furious, but didn’t utter a word about his vintage collection. He wanted to know why they had broken the key. Finally, a complaint was filed. At the police station, the house owner couldn’t argue his case. The SI asked the two gentlemen to fix a new lock at their own expense, which they agreed. The case was settled.
So, what happened to the porn books, you might ask. Fine, a friend of Jayshankar had already shifted the bundle to his house. “This is so precious, I want this,” he said while carrying the hilarious collection. He is now a famous painter. Don’t ask me his name, please…