THE INDIAN POKER

Come Diwali and it is time to lay our cards on the table. I speak not figuratively but literally. For this is the only time we get to play the game that is spoken about in hushed tones in a few circles. I could easily call it ‘The Indian Poker’, glossing it with a more sophisticated sheen. Or I could, without any inhibitions call it the ‘Flash’. Or simply translate and regally pronounce it as ‘The Three Cards’. But nothing is more charming than the raw and desi version of the sounds of ‘Teen Patti’.

A year after my marriage, my husband announced that we had been posted to a place called Chakradharpur. ‘What pur?’ I asked. I have heard of and seen many ‘purs’ before (in fact I come from a place called Berhampur) but this definitely sounded like the ‘purest of the purs’. ‘I know’ he said, ‘even I hadn’t heard of it before. Anyway, just call it CKP’. How typically Railway, I thought- always abbreviating words and digitalizing time. Everybody else’s reaction in the household was the same- my parents, my in-laws, none had heard of this ‘pur’ before but when I told my Anglo Indian friend that we had been transferred to wherever, she nodded knowingly. ‘Oh! Chikaadapore?’ she said, ‘That’s a lovely place.’ Anyway, the point is, that it was in Chikaadapore or Chakradharpur or CKP or wherever that I was first introduced to Teen Patti.

In our circle of friends, in this godforsaken ‘pur’, we were the only couple among a group of just joined bachelors- the lone King and Queen amidst the tens of Jacks. And since they did not want to be labeled as ‘dull boys’, all the Jacks worked in the morning and played in the evening (played cards that is). After a period of stern abstinence (I was tutored as a child that gambling was like taking a direct route to Hell), the lone vigilance started getting a bit dreary. Everyone was enjoying but me. Slowly the images of Hell and my resolves began to fade and soon I was lured into its intoxicating fold. My initiation was gradual. It started by playing with chocolates. But by the time we were transferred out of Chikaadapore or Chakradharpur or CKP or wherever, I had graduated to cash- twenty-five paise, fifty paise and one rupee coins. It was not much but I had become a master of the trade.

A few months later, we were seated in the serene atmosphere of the esteemed Kharagpur Railway Club, playing a tedious thirteen- card game. This time the cash was replaced with chips (not chocolate but plastic). Suddenly I came up with what I thought was an innovative suggestion. ‘I think Teen Patti is really more interesting’ I said to the elderly lady, who sat with her sequences and pairs glued to her chest and a stern expression glued to her face. ‘Why don’t we play that Auntie?’ I could never understand her horrified glare or the queer expressions that flitted across the faces of the other Rummy and Bridge playing crowd. Not to forget the severe look from my husband across, which suggested that this was a Railway Club and not a Casino and ‘Auntie and Uncle’ were as taboo a name as was ‘Flash’ a game. As for me, after having launched my card career with a game of such high standards, Rummy and the rest did not hold much charm anymore. Therefore reluctantly, I resigned myself to being called an ‘Auntie’(sometimes even by men older than me) and the Indian Poker was forgotten for the next few years.

However, the fascination did not lay dormant for long. When we were posted in Kuala Lumpur, a group of Indian friends (seven families) got together for Diwali. To complete the festivity the cards were dealt out. Here, there were no hang-ups, no restrictions, no Aunties and no Uncles. Everyone mutually agreed that Rummy was but a dummy of the real thing and Bridge was too tough to traverse. Only Flash could be spelt as enjoyment. So once more, from the embers of the powerful pastime, the Phoenix of the Indian Poker had risen. And this time we played, not with chocolates or coins or chips but with dollars. The currency had hardened and the graduation was complete. However, it was not a daily affair. It could not be as now we were coupled with added responsibilities. But it certainly became a yearly ritual. When we were posted back in India, a few of the KL gang followed us around. And the practice continued.

Eventually I did learn a few other card games- ranging from the foolish (Bray) to the intellectual (Literature). I also gained knowledge of the Russian Poker (from my husband) and the American Poker (from my nephew). But come Diwali and we still look forward to laying our cards on the table- the ‘teen’ important ‘pattis’ that are dealt, not with fortune, defeat or disappointment in mind. But those that deal with chance, amusement and fun!

Nargis Natarajan