It is a late Sunday morning and I walk out to inspect the damage done by a mob of monkeys that has started visiting our area off-late. Not their fault. Their only habitat in this part of town was a 300 year old banyan tree that split apart under its own weight a few months ago. The monkeys, who earlier used to swing from one of the numerous branches of that tree to another, now have no sky over their heads. Fending for themselves from one concrete abode to another, they are now leading a life which will be in perennial conflict with man.

One flower pot was smashed to bits by them while they carried out their procession with part fear and part aggression. I move the pieces of the earthen pot to the side and greet the watchman of the neighbouring apartments.

“Where were you?,” I ask him since I hadn’t seen him around for a few days.

“Madras,” he replied back.

“Why?”

“To fix marriage. Of daughter.”

“Ok. All final?,” I ask him with a smile and in a Kannada that he pretty much understood.

“Yes.”

I decide to not impart the opinion that he shouldn’t get his daughter married so early (she is around 18 years old now). But my opinions are sometimes hard to keep, so I tell him what I think of it anyway.

“What can I do? Everyone else has already committed in this meeting,” he replied back with a sullen face.

“Committed?”

“Yes. In front of everyone, my wife agreed to the relation. Now we cannot go back.”

“Ok,” I say.

“How old is he? What has he studied?,” I venture to ask.

“He is 26,” he shot back with pride. “8th Standard pass” was his response to my second question.

“Ok,” I say. I am now thinking whether I should prevail upon this man that marrying his daughter so early and to a person who doesn’t have much of an education or career is not a good idea. Yet, who am I to decide whether this is a bad thing for the girl? There is a chance that this guy with little education may become very successful in life and give her all that she needs. I conclude that I cannot decide what is good and what is bad for others. In short, I definitely can’t play God.

“Congratulations,” I tell him.

“Thanks sir,” he replies back. “Now I need to give him a bike, he has asked for it,” he continues.

Dowry! Clearly this alliance should not go through. I blurt this thought out to him.

“What to do sir. Everyone has already committed,” he repeats this like a frequently used excuse of a late-coming student.

“Committed?,” I ask again in disbelief.

“Yes sir. People from my family have already agreed to give the bike to him,” he said.

Now something like that cannot be reasoned against, can it.

“Ok. Which bike?,” I decide to venture into other details.

“Hero Honda sir. Hero Honda Splendor,” he shoots back instantly with a smile and adds “Even if he doesn’t know how to ride a bike, we need to give him a Hero Honda.”  The statement breaks his face into a wide grin, his mind perhaps taking pot-shots at a future son-in-law.

By now, the monkeys have returned from their sojourn in the next street. The watchman forgets about the Hero Honday, picks up a long lathi and chases a few of the monkeys away. But some refuse to leave, and tower over us by hanging from the cable TV wires and phone lines.

The monkeys hung around at the top, carefully skipped across the electric wires and headed straight to the kitchen windows of neighbouring homes and stole what they could through the small iron railings.

“Not all monkeys can be chased away sir,” the watchman chuckled as he threw the lathi on to the other side of the road. The monkeys, seemingly in response to that statement, threw bits of eggs and bread down onto the road. The Sunday morning was well through its mid-life by now and I cocooned right back inside home, remembering past images of me riding my bike during my college years. For the record, I used to possess a Hero Honda Splendor of course.

Dilip D’Souza’s Roadrunner is a travelogue that goes way beyond the usual duty of chronicling events and sights. Pick up the Roadrunner if you want to question your assumptions, your prejudices and your understanding of concepts like patriotism and communities. Pick it up if you want to get a clue on how a culture of a country gets defined, how that culture impacts the lives of the people.

The entire concept of he taking up this road journey through the US is an enviable thought. I have lived in that country for a very short while, and yet I was able to comprehend and relate to many of the concepts that Dilip touches upon.

One such topic is that of accessibility. Specifically, tennis courts. During my brief stay in the US, I was able to access the sport, learn it and play it every single day without having to spend a fortune (for the record, I had to discontinue the sport once I got back to Bangalore. Access is too expensive and seems to be reserved for the elite. Ofcourse, getting to tennis courts in the snarling traffic is a huge deterrent too). Second, I had such easy access to public libraries that I was able to read a wide variety of books there for a nominal fee. Most importantly, it was so easy to get around from one place to another. Dilip brings about this contrast in his own distinctive style which is a treat to read.

Then there are interesting details about The Cadillac Ranch and the Prada Marfa. The Cadillac Ranch, as the name suggests, is a place where rows of Cadillacs have been stuck head-down into the ground. Why, you might ask? Dilip asks a more poignant question, ‘Would a Fiat ranch have had the same impact as that of a Cadillac ranch?” Why? And why not? I thought to myself, “Was that something to do with the Cadillac being a home car? Is patriotism defined this way?”

It is the ability of this book to make you ask such questions to yourself that makes it a must read. Then there are the mystery lights at Marfa which have a strange air to it – a platform has been set up in this small non-descript town called Marfa from where in the distance you are supposed to be able to see mysterious lights. Dilip sees the headlights of cars and trucks in the distance snaking through the winding road, but another set of people on the platfom do see them as the famous mystery lights. Who is to deny them the pleasure? And why?

Dilip gets his share of interactions with various sections of the American society. He gets to be with the ‘Bikers of Christ’ at the Sturgis bike carnival, gets to drive a fireman’s truck  and what’s more – he even gets to play music at a blues bar! To add to this, he also gets to meet Obama (and to whom he offered his burger) during the presidential campaigns.

While there are many such events that occur during this trip of his, the thread that binds everything together is his quest for understanding patriotism, freedom and the concept of being ‘liberal’. Here is an Indian, a member of the world’s largest democracy, taking a hard look at a country which is his second home and which is also another large democracy. How does patriotism get defined in the US, how do its citizens define and ‘practice ‘ its patriotism. He then relates the same to incidents back home in India. Why are they different? Who is right? Who is wrong? Or does that really matter as long as every one is compassionate to their fellow human beings?

The Roadrunner is a great read – a book that dwells on many serious topics and makes you think – and is very neatly wrapped in the guise of a fun travelogue.

Buy Roadrunner on Flipkart by clicking here.

If you are in Delhi, then head straight to the World Book Fair at the Pragati Maidan. Why? Well, apart from the fact that it is the largest book fair in India, you need to head there to get a copy of my book of course.

Neumonia and Other Sketch Stories will be available at the Serene Woods stall S1/24 – Hall 3 – 5. Be there and make the world a better place.

If you are not in Delhi and are in Bangalore, head straight to the Oxford Bookstore to get your copy of the book.

If you are not in Delhi and not in Bangalore, oh well, hmmm.