On a swing, with a friend.

I stood in front of the mirror examining the pot belly that developed gradually over the years, and wondered if I should take up running and exercising. My body and mind agreed with the idea, but none complied when it actually came down to go to the gym.

Later that day I was visited by an old old old friend. The kinda friend you thought you would grow old with, but then his parents made some bad choices, and he had to go live under a bridge in a city on the other end of the country. Yes, that kind of friend.

He came to my house just as he did almost everyday 18 years ago. We went to the same school and came out with almost similar grades. Fortunately, my father came out of his school with better grades than my friend’s father, and landed a government job. Jugnu — My visiting old friend — wasn’t so lucky. His father got in deep with the sharks, and gambled his house, property, family jewelry, and his children’s future away in a sticky addiction. And they had to pack- up whatever little was left and leave the city.

I was sad to see a friend leave, but sadder that now our cricket team was one short of being called a team. It was a void that took months to fill.

Now, years later, he stood at my door step. This short, chubby, clean shaven, curly haired, brown eyed and dressed in an oversized suit man was someone I recognized at once. “Jugnu!” I said and beamed with pleasant joy, “Is that really you! how have you been?”. “Hey buddy!” Jugnu spread his arms and proceeded to envelope me in a mildly uncoordinated hug “It’s me alright! you gained weight?”. I did not indulge in that conversation. “Please come in” I said, “I can fix you some tea”. “Oh thank you so much but can we, like, go to the park.” he said hesitantly “I would like look around.” For someone who has just returned to his childhood place, this seemed like a fair demand. “Sure, why not!” I said “Give me a minute to lock the house”. “Where are uncle and aunt” he asked peeping into my house. “Oh they moved back to Malapuram.” I replied while latching on the main door “They said they have had enough of the city life. Said they wanted me to be on my own, and that they wanted to return to their village”. Jugnu nodded and shrugged in affirmation to my parent’s plans.

“So what have you been up to?” I asked as we strolled towards the park

“Ehh…Human resource” he replied after a second of thought “I guess”

“You guess?” I chuckled

“Yeah, well” he shrugged “Well what about you. What is up with you?”

“Oh me” I said “preparing for civil services. Think I will clear it this year”

“And how many aa” he started but did not know how to end the sentence

“Fourth” I understood where he was going, and ended his question mid way “This will be my fourth attempt”

The rest of the walk was quite.

Once we entered the park Jugnu sighed and occupied a swing that was rusty, old, and one of the many things no one cared for in the park. Everyone, I mean the kids, seemed to like the new tube slide. The swing was also one of the few things that survived from our childhood.

As we, two grown men, sat in the park on two swings, We got some pedophile-alert stares from a small crowd who swiftly took their children to the other end of the park. Now you know the rule of the swing — If you’re not swinging , get off .So we swung.

We started swinging together but we were terribly uncoordinated. I swung ahead when he swung backwards. We would only meet at the center momentarily, then move in opposite directions.

“So how’s the business” he asked as I swung past each other

“The business” I replied “Yeah, father takes care of it. He has hired some manager guy who keeps it running”

“Oh good good” He said “Uncle has always been a step ahead in planning”

I agreed with him, my father is a planner “ Yes, he is”

“Hey, I was wondering if you could loan me some cash” he said out of the blue “ I am in a pretty bad shape” he said and swung ahead of me

“Oh yes, sure” I replied “I would surely help an old friend. How much do you need?”

“It’s not a lot” he said “five thousand rupees”

“Five thousand” I repeated thinking of how much I got in my account “Yeah I think I can manage that”

“Thank you so much!” he replied joyously and swung past me.

“I can write you cheque” I said “You can withdraw the money. I will only need to know the name of your company. We need it for our register.”

“My company?”

“Yes, you said you had a human resource firm, right?”

He fell silent for a while, “Yes, but I would rather prefer cash” he said

“Umm well that is a problem, we don’t give out cash” I said “Father would want a entry in the registers.”

The next few passes were quite, “Jugnu, what happened?” I asked

“I am a pimp” he came out and confessed

I was startled by the statement. I was swinging at the children’s park with a pimp. The revelation crept up on me, and I wanted to leave but the damn swing was moving too fast; I was swinging in full flow and disembarking now could be injurious. So I was waiting for it to slow down.

“Are you okay?” He asked

“No I am not okay” I said grinding my teeth “You want me loan you money to run a prostitution ring”

“No No” replied “I don’t run a ring. These girls come to me for work, and I simply help them make a living — Human resource”

“Bullshit” I said, and jumped of the swing that was considerably slower now.

Jugnu followed me, “ Hey it is the oldest profession in the world man” he said “It not like I am selling drugs”. “You might as well do it” I scoffed. I was walking briskly, and Jugnu was trying his best to keep up.

Half way home Jugnu convinced me with a sob story to at least hear him out. I agreed. I gave him the time remaining to reach home. He started his story ,and it was the same cliched — Poverty, adversity, father’s death, and no way out. The kind of stuff you’d imagine when your friend reveals he’s a pimp. “It’s a booming business man”, he said, emphasizing on ‘Booming’. “And you mean to make me a business partner?”, I replied. “Ah no man, I mean it is a means of living, I had to survive. You got it easy, you wouldn’t know”, said Jugnu. The conversation went along the same lines for a few more minutes, and culminated at Jugnu saying “You’d treat me differently because of my profession?”, “It’s illegal” I said. “ so you were discriminating against gays when it was illegal and now that’s it is legal you’ve changed your attitude? really?” that was a fair point, or it seemed liked an argument that would make you think — Gosh am I am ‘Jobist’? At that moment I realized two things a) I am not a Jobist b)Jugnu was good at pimping.

A long story later that evening, we ended up dining in a posh restaurant that Jugnu knew. Apparently, the owner was Jugnu’s ‘loyal client’. Your imagination will explain this relationship correctly. Over the course of the five course meal Jugnu indulged me in his stories and experiences which, not gonna lie, were fascinating to say the least. What I remember most vividly from that conversation is ‘how to control a whore’ — “It’s easy. You lock her in a room and starve her for two days. Then on the third day you draw her a hot bath and give her expensive food and jewelry. She will be so thankful to you for saving her that she will forget you are the bastard who put her there in the first place.