It was 6.30 or 7.00 in the evening. Logged off from my computer desktop and packed my bag. Took the keys and plodded to the parking lot. There stood my bike, deadbeat, waiting for its owner to come. Inserted keys and applied the kicker. But like a slothful adolescent it remained as it is. After trying three-four times, the vehicle got start and, with a gleeful smiles flashing over my face, I headed towards my home.
The day, really, was very hectic. Morning meetings, discussions with stores-in-charge, follow up from the production department, studying problems in the tool room, everything gave a tight schedule. At the end of the day, saturated. Feels like having a hot bath, then a heavy dinner and slipping inside a blanket and catch up a nice sleep. Thoughts went on. Cursing my conditions, getting frustrated thinking about the difficulties in life don’t know how many vehicles I passed. Suddenly a boy standing beside the road asking for a lift retraced me back. Few meters ahead, my consciousness stopped the bike. Looked behind and saw the enthralled eight-ten-year boy coming running towards me.
After jumping on the bike he was trying hard to set his foot on the foot-rest. Once I found he was set, I put the first gear and again headed towards my destination, allowing again my thoughts to roam freely through my mind. But something was blocking its flow. I couldn’t concentrate on my thoughts. It was he, the boy, who had already started blabbering in Hindi in a typical Marathi style. I could feel his tiny hand’s trying to hold my waist, as a precaution. Initially very irritated, within minutes I was drawn to his talks by his charm in that.
He was continuously talking about himself. Where do he stay, about his ailing father, working on contract basis, his mother-who is a servant in some factory, his two elder and one younger brother-two of them working as waiters in hotel, his two sisters, what they do and all. I was not interested in all his family history but the way he was talking hooked me up. Coming from a lower caste, almost-nil-income family, he was briefing his problems. He was expressing his anger against the so-called educated society for exploiting the poor. His vociferous opine regarding the poor-educated-no-job sector in the society really made me disbelief that such ascribed quotes were coming from a kid who had just started his life, who had just started his education.
To my dismay he asked to stop the vehicle. While getting down he thanked me for dropping him. Pointing to the slum on the other side of the road he said, ”my world”. I looked that side. Although I pass through this area daily I haven’t even had a thought to have a look over that bucolic slum area. Few more pleasantries went on. I was thinking how life could be over there. By that time he{forgot even to ask his name} already had made a dart towards his hovel.I again started my vehicle. While riding back the last sentence he said was echoing in my ears, ”Bhaiyya, dekho aap kitna naseebwaala ho!{Brother,see how lucky you are!!}” True it was.
3 comments:
Hey Vinayak,This is a very touching article....Keep writing more and let me know ...I would like to read them!!!Very gud one
A thought-provoking post - very neatly showcases the divide that so broadly exists in a developing country like ours! "My world" - explains it all too well :-)
hey vinuetta.........
nice story..
good 2 seee ur story skills r not lost.
do u still hae those cartoons tht u used 2 make?
if yes ,scan them & post them...
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