Aapra Adarji Writer, also known and Adarji the Angrej, remember him? He’s just polished off a breakfast of two scrambled eggs made in butter with a sprinkling of cheese atop, toasts, a good helping of last night’s papri-ma-kawab, all accompanied by a dollop of ‘ravo’, being the compliments from Jaiji Jilla next door, on the occasion of son, Jiju’s birthday. The symphonic breakfast culminates in a cup of fudna ni chai. God is in heaven and all’s right with the world! Adarji leads a happy life of philosophic joys, likes to meditate, contemplate, free from humanity’s mad inhuman noise. The freedom from mad inhuman noise is not always possible.

Aaderji’s better half, Dhun or Dhunmai, often known as ‘Dhun Bafat’ for her infallible ability to commit eleven malapropisms daily was in her ‘Latin phase’ nowadays. Ever since the lockdown, a member of her ‘Kutla Committee’ suggested, to keep boredom at bay and the mind sharp, one must learn something new or take up a hobby.  Dhunmai, not to be outdone, decided to learn Latin!! Deus nobis auxilium (God help us!) Julius Casar would have told Marc Anthony, followed by, “Quo usque tandem abutere, patientia nostra Dhunmai?  (How long will you abuse our patience, Dhunmai?).

She could have done our state and our country a great service if only she had improved upon her Marathi and Hindi. Our paowalla, fishwali, muttonwala, vegetable vendor and a galaxy of others would have been relieved from her atrocious mélange of Guajarati cum other tongues.

“I’m going to Fort area for a meeting with some important people,” said Adarji.

“Important people, et tu? What would they want to have anything to do with you, Aadu?  You, and your aito-parvarto pseudo intellectual friend, Darabsha? Vaaru, ek kaam karjo, since you’re in Fort area, go to the BPP office and bring the form,” said Dhunmai.

“The Form? What form?” The words ‘form’ and ‘the Valentine Day’ sent chill down Aderji’s spine as these always created troubles – maxima proportio (great troubles!).

“The form for the Trustee elections! I want you to stand for the forthcoming ‘electionibus’. Finally, you have a chance to do something important in your life, you drifter. No more wasting time with the guys at the colony’s entrance, discussing cricket, racing, share market or politics. Being a BPP trustee will give you some vice in the community!”

“Are you crazy! Nuts! Loco!??” screamed Adarji. “I’ve tolerated your English, your Latin mania, even your brother Jamsu – but thus far and no further! By the way, I don’t want to have any ‘vice’ and nor do I want ‘voice’ in the community. You get elected and your serenity is through! It’s not for me!”

“Amica, mea Aadu! Come on! Won’t you do this for your Dhanu? In college, I fell for you when I saw you ‘conviving’ for aapra Bomanji K. Boman-Behram, who was standing for the Municipal elections, back in early sixties…….

“Moogi rae!! ‘Conviving’ su? I was canvassing for Bomanji. Latin rahva-de, English per dhyan aap!!”

Totally impervious, Dhunmai continued, “…..in early sixties, I saw you leading a procession of Bomanji’s supporters shouting, ‘Vote for Boman-Behram’! You looked like a go-getter. I always dreamt of you as a political leader… maybe even the President of India one day! But mara mumma was right. She told me that this Adar is a ‘frackleless’ fellow. (Adarji ignored correcting ‘freckleless’ to feckless). My Jamsu also warned me, ‘This Adar will not mount anything!”

Adarji objected vehemently to this remark by Jamsu – the destructive imbecile who sat on Adarji’s ‘pagri’ and destroyed it! …the parasite on Adarji’s good scotch! “What does he mean by ‘I will not mount anything’? Your brother Jamsu, like you, is the curse upon the Queen’s language!”

“Rehva dey, you phoolanji kagro!” My teacher used to say, “Bride goes on horseback grand and gay and comes back with fruits, munching away.” Exasperated, Adarji screamed, “You should be penalised for the cold-blooded murder of the English tongue! The saying is, ‘Pride goes on horseback grand and gay and comes back on foot begging its way’!”

“Whatever! Mr know-it-all.”

Adarji donned his tweed coat and frayed old Trilby hat and left in a huff. A few steps out of the house, Adarji met sizzling spirited Sherry, the colony’s adorable arm-candy! Adarji greeted her cordially, as did the other twelve plus males of the colony. “Ma chèrie Sherry, where have you been so long? What a treat you are to these sore eyes!” he praised.

“Oh! Adar uncle, you know how to flatter a girl, don’t you! You must have been quite the casanova in college!” Flattered, Adarji replied, “My dear, that was a long time… er, come to think of it, a few years ago. You must come over to dinner someday!” Adarji’s tête à tête was rudely interrupted by Dhunmai, leaning out of the window and shouting, “Aadu, don’t forget the form. Also, get me about that 12-meter-elastic from Bora Bazar for your underwears. They have gone loose.”

Adarji turned beet-red, grunted ‘harrumph’, tipped his hat and walked away, grumbling words which cannot be printed in a family newspaper. When he returned home a couple hours later, he was accosted by ever-impatient Dhunmai, “Punchayat no form laya ke? Chalo, jaldi bhari nakhyae!”

“Sorry Dhun, no need for that. I’ve been made President for the next term of…”

“Su boloch! You President? BPP must be scraping the bottom of the barrel to have made you President!

“Hammesa bafaat karech! Not the BPP, the important people I met – the Indian committee members of ‘The Parsi Gourmets and Dhansakias International’. I’ve been chosen their President for next five years. And here’s your elastic. Damn it! How often have I told you not to scream personal details through the window? It’s downright embarrassing!”

“Mare-re! Etla badha lal-pila sana thaoch? Making a big ‘queue and cry’ about nothing. All elastics lose elasticity, whether in under-garments or pajamas or other things. It’s a ‘university’ truth. Magna est veritas et prevailait. That’s Latin for ‘great is the truth and shall prevail’.”

“One makes a ‘hue’ and cry, not a ‘queue’ and cry! Umthi dhandhal karvi, and ‘university’ truth?? It’s ‘universal truth’. Samjhee??? And one more thing – Enough! No more Latin. No more English and no faux pas!” insisted Adarji.

“No more this and no more that? Tamari ‘Mueslini’ and ‘Hitleri’ jevi dadagiri nahi chalse! And what is fox pass? You know I don’t like bad words!” retorted Dhunmai.

“Stop! ‘Muesli’ breakfast cereals ma aave. The name associated with Hitler is ‘Mussolini’! And there’s no bad word as ‘fox pass’ – it’s faux pas meaning chabardo karvo!” yelled Adarji, slapping his forehead. “Now don’t disturb me. I have to set an exotic menu and book an exquisite venue for the forthcoming Congress of the Parsi Gourmets and Dhansakias International.”

“Adarji bawa, thora divas me aapru Navroz che. I’ve called my Jamsu family to dinner. Let’s do something extraordinary for my bro!”

“How about curd-rice and fried karela?”

“Nonsense! Let’s go continental with grilled lobster, Duchess potatoes, Milanese Risotto and crème brulée. And don’t forget to open your good scotch – he loves it!”

“Let us also call Sherry,” suggested Adarji, which was met with a very frosty nolle prosequi.

Come Jamsu, he will be guzzling my fine single-malt too! I’m an optimist. Maybe he’ll break his leg and won’t come. Anyways, all of you have a very Happy Jamshedi Navroz!