The other day my friend who had returned after one year stay abroad “requested the pleasure of my company” (in his own words) for “something special” that he had picked up at the duty free shop at the new Hyderabad Airport.

Reading the situation correctly my wife politely declined giving some excuse and proceeded to her cousin’s place to enjoy some gastronomic delights. She also gave me a green signal to enjoy myself.

I rang the doorbell of my friend’s spacious house with great expectations of a pleasant evening with the “something special” and without my wife keeping a watchful eye on my glass.

I felt deflated when I looked at my friend who looked gaunt, distraught and several notches below his normal affable self. He reminded me of a friend who had a sticker on his door “WELCOME, MY DAY IS RUINED ANYWAY.”

I forced my way in pushing him aside. Fortunately his good lady sported a big smile and welcomed me courteously compensating for the behaviour of her husband.

As I passed through the corridor I found many display cabinets of different sizes of highly polished wood lined along the wall.

The good lady of my friend chided her husband for extending a welcome which could be hardly called friendly after inviting me especially for a specific purpose. She took over the responsibilities of the host, exchanged pleasantries, asked about the welfare of my wife, told me of the pleasant time she had with my children and grandchildren in USA and finally put me to ease and in a comfort zone. She even advised me to ignore her husband for an hour.

Above all she graciously opened the wine cabinet and brought out THE MACALLAN, FINE OAK, A SINGLE MALT OF 18 YEARS and handed it over to me to do the honours of opening it. One look at the bottle I realised how much my friend valued the pleasure of my company and wondered why he was behaving strangely.

“Say when” the good lady said and started pouring the contents of the fine bottle into my glass. Engrossed in observing my friend I was shaken up when the good lady said “Your daughter told me that your SIL is coming to India.” Immediately I enquired “When” and she stopped pouring. I realised that women could be quicker on the uptake than men. By then my glass had four fingers and she poured two to her husband. She filled the glasses with rocks and put a straw and served it on a silver platter. She also pushed a trolley laden with nuts of different kinds and sat next to me.

The Scotch was nothing short of divine and the evening looked like the stuff that blogs are made off. The only sour note of my friend’s countenance changed slowly but surely and with the second drink he was more than his ebullient self. He then said how he managed to get adequate supplies of the   manna from the duty free shop with his contacts in the Customs department.  My heart swelled with pride when he said that he took all the trouble to please me as he considered me a connoisseur of the Scotch.

“Why then were you so cut up with the world and looking miserable when you opened the door for me?” I asked. “Anyway you didn’t look like a couple who had a marital tiff.” I added.

Then he pointed at all the display cabinets lined along the wall. “I ordered   all of them on line and they arrived immediately after our arrival.”

“You should be happy about it. What then is bugging you?”

“They are all display cabinets” He spoke as though he was teaching me “to keep all the trophies, awards, laurels, accolades and bouquets. The last one has inbuilt temperature control to ensure that the flowers do not wilt for at least one week.” 

“You must have spent a lot of money as they are gleaming like baby’s bottom.”

“You, as usual miss the point and your thoughts go astray. Why didn’t you ask me as to why I was angry?” asked my host.

“What do you think I was doing all the time from stepping into your house? Anyway to comply with your request I now formally ask you “Why?”

“These were meant for keeping the laurels that I was supposed to get. I didn’t waste my time in USA and wrote on several subjects carrying out extensive research and published many blogs on several international sites. I won a lot of acclaim and I was informed that several laurels, awards etc were on their way to my Indian address. Now I have the cabinets but not a single award or anything of the sort had reached me as yet.”

“You have to bear two things in mind. The westerners are biased against us. They promise but do not deliver. Secondly our Indian postal department or couriers take their own time to deliver. You got to have patience. If the laurels are on their way nobody on earth can stop them.” I said and showed my glass empty by then.

This time my host shot up like a coiled spring and perhaps to expiate his odd behaviour earlier poured four fingers before handing it over to me.

“That is the most sensible advice he got in the last two days.” The good lady added “he has been searching every nook and corner of the house for the laurels that were supposed to arrive by now.”

I assured my friend that laurels, awards, name and fame take their own sweet   time and when they come, they come in battalions and all that he had to do was to wait for their arrival.

The FINE OAK must have helped him to see some non existing wisdom in my words.

“Two more fingers for that.” He said and sailed well past the stage of caring for any laurels and their ilk.

The evening thereafter was memorable.