He was someone you did not normally meet in several lifetimes: a truly interesting man. He had been places and seen things people had never seen. He was very easy to get along with, and would listen to your stories with the same interest and attention that you would listen to his ones, and I don’t know if anyone ever could get up and walk away or get bored once he started telling one of his stories.
He spoke of strange lands, magical beasts, and various other things that I could not ever imagine existing besides the industrial machines of today, but for some reason, the way he told his stories, I always believed them, even if he could offer me no proof. I believe that it was the same for everyone else who heard his stories– we all believed that he really went to those lands, did his business as a wanderer, and everything. It was just a part of reality that we could not experience completely ourselves.
Until one day, when I was about 15 years old. I was really angry that day, at a passing auto-rickshaw which had sprayed mud all over my white school uniform. I was walking back home, angrily muttering insults at the stupid driver who had not been considerate enough to drive slowly when passing by.
“You seem to be in a bad mood today!”
I looked behind… my anger going into background mode as my face lit up to see my old friend the wanderer greet me with that amicable smile of his. “Yeah, look at the mud all over my clothes!” I told him.
We got to talking of this and that, but the thought of the rickshaw driver had still not left my mind. I was really irritated, and was thinking that if I ever got hold of him, I would definitely either splash mud water all over him, or do something even more nasty, if only I knew where he lived……..
“You seem to have grown quite a lot since the last time I saw you. I think it is time to have a drink!” my friend said.
I wasn’t sure of whether I actually wanted a ‘drink’, especially if it was what I understood what he meant by it, but I was also slightly excited to have a go at the stuff, so I nodded my mute approval.
While talking, I had not noticed that we had reached some deserted part of town I had not been to before instead of nearer to home, as I would have expected. Old, semi-crumbling houses, dusty lanes, and a meadow with very dry, withered grass on it were all I could see. A strange post lay on the center of a crossroad. It looked like the frame of a door, except that there was no wall surrounding it, and no door held within it.
My friend, Mani, the wanderer, was looking at me with an amused face, his eyes studying my face for any reactions that it could see.
“Where are we? I never came here before! Is this where you said we could drink?” I asked.
He said nothing, but walked straight on to the strange frame in the middle of the crossroads, signalling me to follow. I felt a strange excitement go through me, and wondered what was happening. A glance down at my pants sent a slight spike of rage up my head briefly, but was lost in the excitement of the moment.
“Do not be afraid. Do not let go of my hand or look backwards till you see the other side” Mani said, firmly gripping my right hand with his left, and apparently opening an invisible door within the frame with his right. I could feel his body tense for a second, and then he moved forward. I could see nothing as I followed him: just pitch darkness that seemed to contain not even one spark of light.
However, as soon as I took one step forward, the darkness had disappeared, and I saw a very beautiful landscape, with a shop that seemed to be full of customers that seemed to be drinking. The shop was on the side of a hill, that seemed well cultivated and full of herbs, and all around, I could see other hills, with lush green forests growing on them. The sky was quite different though: no sunlight it seems: the light was a deep green at places, and light blue at others, and many other colors– it looked like it was the color of different beautiful jewels that shone, illuminating the whole world with their brilliance. The light was much smoother and nicer, and I somehow felt different– lighter than before, but I was not sure why so.
The top of the hill was very near to where we stood. It was a very strange sight there too. There was a statue on the top, mounted on top of a rock, that was in the middle of a small, blue pond. Seven small streams flowed down from the pond, from different sides of the hill.
While I was busy noticing the scenery, it seems we had been walking quite rapidly towards the shop. I was startled when I heard an old man speak: “How are you Mani, it seems you brought along a young friend today! What would you like to drink?”
Mani laughed. “I think my friend needs to drink what he has been desperate for today”. “Revenge or forgiveness?” Mani asked, looking directly at me.
I don’t know how I would know what such a cryptic question meant. We were talking about drinks, and in any other context, I would have definitely not understood. Except that I did, today, in this place.
“Revenge” I said, with a taste of excitement in my mouth.
“Revenge it is then” said the old shopkeeper– Birkhelal dai, laughing out loud.
We sat on a table outside, enjoying the view, talking very little. I knew Mani was scrutinizing me very carefully, but I could not catch him looking at me at all… he was just looking at the scenery and occasionally smiling at people inside or talking to people coming out or going in.
A small glass of brown liquid, slightly thicker than tea, was put in front of me. Mani’s glass was much larger, and completely green. “What is that?” I asked. “You can have it someday. Today, even a drop would knock you out!” he said.
“Your drink has come: its not too strong, but very good for its purpose. Good luck!” he added, with a wink.
I took a sip into my tongue, and the drink tasted sweet. Without even thinking twice, I gulped it down completely, and saw that Mani was grinning widely.
It all came back to me. The walk back home, the fast auto-rickshaw, the puddle of mud that had decided it liked me more than the streets where it would get disturbed by every passing vehicle, and the driver who could not care less. I felt as if I was living through the same scene again….
except….
I stared at the driver, and the driver slightly lost his control on the steering handle. I knew that there was a big puddle on that particular area of the road, and if the rickshaw got stuck there, it could not get out without a lot of people pushing it out– the road was not very well made, and I had seen rickshaws get stuck there before.
All I had to do was wish. I saw the rickshaw get stuck in the puddle, exactly the way I wanted it to be. The driver had to get out, flustered, and try to get the wheel out of the puddle, which unfortunately, he could not do alone. The will I had made me wish people away from helping him, or even bothering themselves about what was happening. His passenger also left in a minute or two. That was sweet.
Except that my stomach seemed to be a bit hot.
“Sweet, isn’t it?” Mani said quite nonchalantly. It does kick you a bit in the gut afterwards though. He wasn’t lying. He ordered some food to help deal with the kick. “Forgiveness is kind of sweeter in the long run, though you have to be really gutsy to bring yourself to swallow it down…. you can have the strangest visuals at that time. Always made me feel happier in the long run though.” He said.
Oh well… I had my revenge. Sweet thing is– the next day’s paper showed the same picture I had seen in my mind after drinking Revenge. The same ricksaw and driver, on print 
. I was not sure of how or when it happened, but was definitely impressed.
Later in life, I got to go on more drinking trips with Mani, and drink more exotic drinks than the Revenge one I had tried my first time. Forgiveness wasn’t so bad either.. though it was definitely hard to swallow. I used to look up the revenge drink whenever someone pissed me off badly at first, but it kind of got hard to keep score later– maybe it was my nature, maybe the influence Mani and the drinks had on me, maybe just co-incidence. I found myself liking it less and less…. but just so that you know, I do not like people who cross me, and I keep a spare bottle in my cabinet all the time.
Except for the fact that it doesn’t seem to work out here– you have to go to that shop…. but still, you better be careful 
