THE ODD COUPLE SERIES – EPISODE 5

At ten to eleven the function hall in Banjara Hills was a stage with nobody on it. A man at the microphone said “One, two, one, two” to rows of empty chairs. Seating had been laid indoors and out. Birbal stood at one of the outdoor tables with the invitation in one hand and his phone in the other. Beside him sat a steel bowl of fruit for the guests, a hard green guava on top. The Monkey sat at the end of the table.

Monkey: Card says eleven forty-two.

Birbal: It does.

Monkey: It’s ten-fifty.

Birbal: Ten fifty-one. Which makes us early. One should be.

Monkey: Nobody else is.

Birbal: That is a fact about them.

His phone rang. A long wall of horns came out of it.

Birbal: Yes. Of course. Of course.

He put the phone away.

Birbal: The groom’s uncle. Five minutes away.

Monkey: How far is that?

Birbal: It is not a distance.

Monkey: Then it’s a time.

The Monkey looked at the clock over the hall door. Ten fifty-three.

Monkey: Ten fifty-eight, then.

Birbal: Possibly.

Monkey: Possibly?

Birbal: It is not a time either. It means: I intend to come, do not ask when.

Monkey: That’s a lot of work for two words.

Birbal: They are very hardworking words.

The Monkey took the invitation from Birbal’s hand, turned it over and wrote on the back with a stub of pencil.

Uncle: “five minutes” = he’s coming. When: unknown.

Birbal: What are you writing?

Monkey: Research.

Nobody came. A florist went past with a tray of jasmine strings. Inside the hall a speaker coughed, was adjusted, and coughed again.

Some time later the phone rang a second time. The horns were louder.

Birbal: Yes. Of course.

He put it away.

Birbal: Five minutes.

Monkey: That was five minutes at ten fifty-three.

Birbal: This is five minutes from now.

Monkey: Which clock?

Birbal: The atomic clock has never been late.

Monkey: It’s never been invited.

Birbal: The groom’s uncle is stuck at the signal.

Monkey: Which signal?

Birbal: Does it matter? Every signal in this city is the same signal.

Monkey: Then what is the five for?

Birbal: He is stuck and would prefer not to discuss it.

Monkey: So: don’t ask.

Birbal: With better manners.

The guests had begun to come, slowly: two men disagreeing about parking, a grandfather on his grandson’s arm.

Monkey: They’re not hurrying.

Birbal: They are saving it for the buffet.

The Monkey’s hand went towards the fruit bowl. Birbal moved the bowl out of reach without looking. The phone rang again. No horns this time, only a quick, low voice.

Birbal: Yes. Good. Good.

He set it on the table.

Birbal: The bride’s aunt. Five minutes.

Monkey: Same words.

Birbal: Different woman.

Monkey: So what does it mean when she says it?

Birbal: Five minutes.

Monkey: Just five minutes?

Birbal: A rare and endangered usage. We should protect it.

Monkey: How do you know?

Birbal: No horns. She is at the gate, looking for parking.

The Monkey watched the clock. Birbal watched the Monkey watching it. Five minutes later by the clock, a woman in green silk came up the steps with her phone still at her ear.

Birbal: You see.

Monkey: Five and a half.

Birbal: Hyderabad five. Observe: a voice on a phone, a gate, a forecast made from the tone of a single call, and a woman arriving on schedule. Kings have kept advisers for less. I shall be insufferable for the rest of the day.

Monkey: The rest of the day, or five minutes?

Birbal: The rest of the day.

The Monkey wrote on the invitation again.

Aunt: “five minutes” = on time.

A server passed with a tray of coffee. An old man by the pillar asked him something. The server told him five minutes, without stopping. The old man settled back, content, and did not look up again.

Monkey: He’s not worried.

Birbal: He has coffee coming.

Monkey: Does he?

Birbal: He has been told so. At a wedding that is the same as having it.

Monkey: What did five minutes mean there?

Birbal: Relax. It will come.

Monkey: And the coffee?

Birbal: A separate department.

He wrote that down too.

Coffee man: “five minutes” = relax, it will come.

Inside the hall the rows were filling, and the sound of steel vessels being set down carried out through the doors. Birbal’s phone stayed quiet.

Monkey: Shall we go in?

Birbal: Five minutes. He may call.

Monkey: He has called twice.

Birbal: Then a third is due.

Monkey: Which five is that?

Birbal: The reasonable one.

Monkey: The stop-asking-me one.

Birbal: …It is a courtesy.

Monkey: To whom?

Birbal: Whoever is asking.

The Monkey held up four fingers, one for each.

Monkey: That’s four kinds.

Birbal: I prefer ‘courtesy’.

Monkey: It’s still go-away.

The Monkey wrote the fourth line.

Birbal: “five minutes” = go away. Politely.

They stayed at the table. The man at the microphone had stopped counting. At eleven forty-two exactly, the minute the priest had fixed, the nadaswaram began to play inside the hall. A hush went over the tables outside. Through the doors the last empty seats filled.

The Monkey wrote one more line.

Priest: 11:42 means 11:42.

Monkey: Could we tell the priest five minutes?

Birbal: No.

Monkey: Why not?

Birbal: Because he has a muhurtham. The rest of us have intentions.

———

By half past twelve the steel vessels were being carried in, and lunch had still not been announced. The Monkey had picked up the guava from the bowl and was pressing it with his thumb.

Birbal: When is lunch?

Monkey: Five minutes.

Birbal raised both palms in surrender, let them fall, and turned his phone face down on the table.

———