Armed forces used to be a profession for the gentlemen; now, of course, for the ladies as well. Hence, there weren’t many people who would go with you to a restaurant and get sudden urge to visit the toilet as soon as the bill was expected to be presented.
And yet, once in a while, freeloaders are sighted in the social circles in the armed forces too. Though a rare breed, their habits are well-known. They do visit you only at the drinks and the meals timings. They would have wanted to bring gifts along but being sunday, all the shops were closed. They generally want to discuss things (over drinks) of great importance to you since their hearts bleed to see you in difficulty. It is another thing that after they have left you have as many problems as before they arrived plus empty bottles of liquor and soda, unwashed dishes and shabby drawing-room.
They invite you on all their important dates: birthdays, anniversaries and the like so that you won’t forget to bring gifts. Indeed, they would tell you their likes and dislikes in advance and the shops from where to buy the gifts. The really generous ones would advance the information about which shops would be open on Sundays in case you thought of returning the favour of using their excuse for not bringing gifts.
It is not a mere coincidence that most freeloaders are great story-tellers and promise you the moon.
In case you take them up on their invite and actually land up, you are likely to be met with next to nothing at home (it happens to be their fasting day!) After agonising minutes spent with them, they see you off at the door with: “Ravi, yeh tera aana maana nahin jaayega. Tu phir aana, braather, jab mera fast na ho” (Ravi, your visit isn’t counted. You have to come again, brother, when I am not fasting).
Lieutenant Commander B was one such freeloader. I was posted at Navy’s Leadership School called INS Agrani at Coimbatore as a young instructor and this guy arrived on temporary duty from Cochin.
That was during my drinking days and more often than not my drinking partner used to be another bachelor Amarjit Bajwa (Please read: ‘Happy Sixtieth Birthday To My Best Friend’ and ‘Oh, The Memories Of Those Drunken Soirees’). We had found that despite drinking everyday, LtCdr B (senior to both of us) hadn’t signed for a single drink. We had also found that he had checked out of the mess catering so that he could just scrounge from others and won’t have to pay any bills.
That night (the night before he went back), we all sat together and just like every night, B was drinking merrily, expecting one of us to sign the wine chits. Bajwa and I started talking about an imaginary character who was a freeloader and scrounged on others, without paying for anything.
Bajwa: He was shameless.
Me: Yes, really shameless.
Bajwa: So, one night we went to his cabin…
Me: And gave him nice and proper for every drink that we had to sign for him.
Bajwa: He begged for mercy….
Me: But, we won’t hear of it….
Bajwa: Finally….
Me: But, Sir, why are we talking about it?
Bajwa: Yes, there is no one like that here….
B went back to his cabin, double bolted the door from inside and to be on the safe side, barricaded with chairs and a table.
We went to sleep, satisfied like Boy Scouts for having done our good work for the day.
Well past midnight, there were loud shrieks from B that woke us up. B shrieked that he had understood (we were sure that the intoxication caused by free drinks had subsided) that the character in our evening talk was none other than him.
We silently congratulated him for his enlightenment. All greats had got similar revelations in their lives like Budhha, we felt.
He shrieked many other associated things, too unprintable to be put up here.
We didn’t intervene.
The last thing he shrieked was that he would prove us wrong by paying for all his drinks before he left. And his bills.
We had a good night and sweet dreams without even wishing each other.
