Katta

 

Nowhere else in the world, I can assure you, is a short, squat wall accorded so much importance, as it is in Pune.

Assiduous readers of this blog would have by now gotten comfortable with the fact that all Punekars are a touch on the eccentric side. Not by much, but within the breast of each citizen of that fair city rests a spark of quirkiness. In fact, I might go so far as to say that it is the defining characteristic of a Punekar – and who would disagree?

Which, I regret to inform you, does not bring me to the point of this post.

But if you see what I mean, it does prove my point.

But the point of this post, I hasten to add, is already up there in the title. Today, boys and dear girls, we're going to learn about the katta.

A katta – don't hold me to this, by the way – is a short squat wall on which people can sit. It is situated, preferably, a little away from the main thoroughfares, and should even so be in reasonable proximity to a college. Within shouting distance should be a tapri that sells sutta and chai. On it should be friends, not necessarily from the same college.

Given these rather sparse requirements, a college going Punekar can spend weeks on said katta.

For in the eyes of the ubiquitous college going Punekar, chatting with friends on the katta is about all there is to life. While his peers of a more sincere variety listen to the steady hypnotic drone of the lecturer in a stuffy classroom, he sits on the katta with not a care in the world, sipping every now and then from a small chipped dirty glass, half filled with tapri chai. And at this rather cerebral activity – sitting on the katta, that is - there is none to surpass the Punekar. None.

For all kattas across Pune, there apply certain norms; expected patterns, that by now have been imprinted on every Punekar's DNA. Easy conversation, many cups of cutting, the occasional vada pav, the rather more frequent sutta, and above all an easy going, yet cutting sarcasm that wounds but does not kill. Mastery of these skills is a necessary prerequisite that must be possessed by the owner of every derriere that rests on these kattas.

Also, a katta session must of necessity involve a heated argument, a lengthy debate, long, rambling and pointless reminisces, a thorough whole-hearted vilification of the Indian cricket team, and in times of utter tedium, a superficial discussion of politics.

No specific order needs to be applied, and the cerebral quotient is guided only by the type of college that is in closest proximity. A katta near the Pol. Sci. Department in Pune University, for example, will be the very nadir of abstruseness, while the katta outside Symbiosis might never cross the realm of what happened on Monday Night Raw the past week.

Bird and bike watching is not only allowed, it is thoroughly encouraged. Each katta usually has a special; a "The One" in either category, and the truly lucky kattas have that rarest of rare honours: a "The Bird who rides The Bike".

From early morning until late evening, the katta hosts a series of never flagging conversations. They range from the profane to the mundane, from light banter to tear-jerkers. Friendships are forged here, and relationships are sundered. Groups at the time of passing out vow to meet at least once a year, and groups at the beginning of the year form themselves to last for a lifetime. Conversations last as long as the day does, and sometimes longer.

The first puff of the cigarette is inhaled on these kattas, and the first bitter sip of a somewhat cold bottle of beer is had here. The first hesitating proposal, painfully rehearsed for weeks on end, is made here a little after dusk, and it is here that the ears first get to hear "You're a good friend but."

The katta sits there, year on year, decade on decade, playing host to one generation of youth after another. It weans for all of its flock the skills of life, and it graduates in the true sense of the term far more students than formalized academia does.

For many a Punekar, the katta is the college. And what an education it is.

No?