Strawberries, Cherries And Angels Kiss In Spring
Nimi Kurian
22 February 2008, 10:23The Additional Director General of Police was stressed out, tired, and irritable. The last case had not gone well, his son’s exams were coming up and the boy was not studying enough, the cook had disappeared and so his wife was constantly complaining. All in all, things were not looking too good for him.
He sat in office, clutching his head. Yes, these days he had a headache almost every day. “Grrrr! I need a break!” he muttered angrily.
Just then the constable came in. “Saar, DGP Saar is calling you. Wants you to come immediately.”
“Oh no! Not now! Not now! What have I don’t now?” he thought to himself as he jumped off his seat and snatching his cap and lathi charged out of his office. His head was reeling. He knew he looked terrible.
“Come in. Come in,” said the DGP, all smiles.
“You can smile,” thought the ADGP. “Life is a song for you, ain’t it?” He managed to smile, but actually his head was hurting so much that he could just about bare his teeth.
Once he was seated and comfortable, the DGP ordered for some tea.
“Well, the thing is I have been watching you the past week and I think you are stressed out. Your last case didn’t go too well, the media were not too kind. But that shouldn’t effect you like this. After all this is the first case in your career that fouled up. You were the media favourite till now, so one failure shouldn’t get you down like this. Anyway, I didn’t call you here to console you or anything. I know you can handle all this. What I want you to do is take a break. Just get away for a while. Go on a holiday.”
The ADGP could not believe his luck. This was just something he wanted. And with official sanction, getting his wife to agree would be a piece of cake.
“Of course,” he gleefully thought to himself, “she can’t come with me, because of Ajay’s exams.”
His friend had a house in the Blue Mountains and that’s were he decided he would holiday. He needed peace and quiet, long walks and sundowners.
Driving up the ghat roads was a joy. The scenery was breathtaking. At every curve the view was different. The tall, sharp rock face of the mountain was a wonder in itself. He could literally ‘hear’ his body recovering, his mind relaxing. The grimace on his face was replaced by a smile.
He had soon settled in and sat on the lawn sipping tea. A late lunch, followed by a nap and he was as good as new. He walked down to the club to meet up with his friends from school and college days.
Drink in hand, he looked around. Sure enough there they were – his good ole’ buddies. With almost a cheer and shout, thumping each other on the back they were exchanging news. They found themselves comfortable sofas in a corner of the Lounge.
“You must taste the wine at Laila Farms,” said Joseph.
“It’s simply out of this world. In fact I prescribe it to most of my patients who suffer from rheumatism and arthritis,” said Doc.
“And you know the best part of it is its non-alchoholic. Its herbal wine – mint, rose, hibiscus and stuff like that. So even kids can drink it!” remarked Krishnan.
The ADGP’s interest was aroused.
“So whereabouts is the Farm? Who runs this amazing place?”
“Oh its run by one mad hatter. He’s pretty old – I think in his 70s. He has dumped his wife of 55 years, bought this farm, married a local woman and lives happily ever after!” remarked Panchu.
The men laughed. Men cannot but appreciate another man’s courage in dumping his wife!
“His name?”
“Thomas Esau.”
“So where’s the farm?”
“Its about three miles from here. Its in a valley. There’s a stream flowing through the farm. And all around is the strong smell of roses. Its almost like the man has sprayed the area with rose perfume. Oh! And before I forget. You will hear strains of Mozart and Bach as you near the farm.”
Early the next morning, the ADGP went for a long walk. He showered had a nice large breakfast and then called for a cab. As soon as he mentioned Laila Farms the driver knew where he had to go.
As the car neared the farm, the ADGP thought he did get a whiff of rose in the air. “Unbelievable!” he muttered. “so its true. Those fellows were not lying!”
There was music too – faint strains of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 came to him. The farm lay in a haze of early morning mist. It was chill. Because of the river, thought the ADGP.
Esau was there to greet him. Somehow the man had known that the ADGP would visit. He also seemed to know who he was and where he had come from. It was disconcerting, but then in a small town with few important visitors and fewer distractions it was not surprising that news should go around so fast.
“Nice music,” remarked the ADGP. “Do you always play music in the morning?”
“Actually, I play music through the day. But in the mornings its always ‘Ode to Joy’. The strawberries respond better when its Beethoven’s Ninth in the morning.”
The ADGP nodded. He was not so much of a music connoisseur. He did enjoy good music, listened to them often and tapped his foot when the mood took him. But names and titles baffled him.
“I hear you have some good wine for sale?”
“Yes, purely herbal. I have mint, rose, hibiscus, radish, string beans, beetroot… Just name it and its here. I also have preserves. At the moment I have only strawberry preserve. Come, you must at least taste some of my strawberry preserve.”
So saying he rushed into the house, and came back almost immediately with a tray, on which was a small crystal bowl with bright red strawberry preserve.
“Err.. er.. did you add the colouring?”
“WHAT? WHAT?” the man was almost screaming. He was hysterical. The ADGP hesitated. He didn’t know what he had said wrong. But clearly the man was upset.
“Me add colouring? Colouring? Red? Bah! Nonsense, nonsense!”
“I am sorry. Very sorry indeed,” said the ADGP. I didn’t mean to upset you. It was just a question. After a lot of spluttering and coughing and jumping up and down, Esau was back to his normal self.
He served the ADGP who was sufficiently impressed with the size of the strawberries. They were almost the size of plums he thought. Even Wimbledon’s much talked about ‘strawberries and cream’ would fade in comparison. He decided to buy a couple of jars.
Soon he was served the wine. Thimble-sized wine glasses with different wines, different flavours. After a tasting session, the ADGP bought several bottles. Rather happy with his morning’s expedition, his bottles of purchase all safely packed and loaded into the car, the ADGP set off for the club.
Back home that evening he opened a bottle of hibiscus wine. The first sip seemed fine. Another one, he thought he detected a strange whiff. A slightly tangy flavour. He smelt it, sipped, smelt, sipped… Yes, there was something definitely wrong.
He rang the local police station and said he had some important work to get done. Could they send a constable to his house immediately? They were there sooner than he expected.
“Here, take these bottles and get them tested. I want the results immediately. Come and tell me, no matter how late it is. This is important.”
Around midnight, the police car pulled up at his door. The constable handed him a typed report. It was rather cold, the ADGP wondered whether he should invite the constable inside. Then thought the better of it.
“Thank you very much,” he said. “I may need your help in the morning. Please tell your boss.”
The report was just as he had expected. The ‘herbal wine’ was moonshine – but of course flavoured with mint, rose, hibiscus…
Well written, well thought of and humorous.
— Jude · Mar 7, 16:17 · #