GreatestLesson
The way life teaches you lessons at times is miraculous. We in our self-styled glass houses feel we are living a worthy life, having achieved something and thinking we are doing the right things expected of us as a son ,a husband,a father,a brother , an employee or a citizen. Every night when we hit the sack, we dream up a "holier -than -thou" image of ourselves, linking it to some presumed "good" thought or deed we would have done during the day. Then with a smug smile on our lips we doze off to a pleasant sleep. I am sure this is true of many of us. I feel very contented and happy if during the day I have done something, which in my eyes is a good deed, be it donating a small sum to charity, bringing a smile on the face of an old woman on the street when I fished out a Rs 5 coin from my purse (which of course, contained notes of higher denominations as well) or some such "great thing".Never have I stopped to think if the "great thing" I think I did was something which was the best I could have done with the comforts which God has been kind enough to give me. Have I ever set a minimum standard of "do-goodness" that I should be doing to the less privileged ones? Even when I roll up my car windows at a signal junction to avoid a begging hand or shoo-away an urchin who peeps into my car just out of childish curiosity, I justify my actions with the thought that I had to do it "as encouraging begging was not right"! When I see a child worker being punished by his employer or when I see a poor, street-side adolescent girl being teased by hooligans, I look staright ahead a drive away, thinking I am not the moral police. I cofess I have not lost my sleep on account of such sights. But I have always felt happy at small,very small deeds done, well-within my means, in fact much less than what I really could have done.I have always been content with the philanthropy and compassion I have shown all these years.Yes, always,until the day after Mumbai was inundated by floods in 2005.
The day after the floods, when I went for a stroll on the water logged high way near my home, I could still see miles of jammed vehicles, full of tired looking, frustrated, worried occupants who had spent more than a night in the waters. I did offer my cell phone to some to contact their families and did get back home and bring some bread and fruits left in our fridge. Even these deeds made me feel like a good samaritan par excellent.But the sight of the small urchins, may be from the nearby Dharavi slums, from where the flood waters still had not receded, going around with plates carrying steaming paper tea in paper cups caught my sight. The occupants of the cars were eagerly stretching out through the windows to get the cups.
Suddenly I saw a six year old boy handing over several cups of tea to the occupants of a BMW wedged between the flyover wall and the other jammed vehicles. Obviously the occupants couldn't have got out the entire night and that morning.The thankful look in the eyes of the car's occupants showed how much the tea meant for them. But when,after taking about five cups, the man at the steering offered a hudred rupee note to the urchin, I was amazed to see the boy returning the note without a thought and even tapping the man on his arm, as though to console him!!! The man was aghast and I could see tears welling up-tears of gratitude and may be shame? But tears welled up in my eyes too, just as they are welling up as I type these lines. I was overwhelmed by the sight of this small urchin, refusing a hundred rupee note for a service he had rendered-the very same urchin whom you and I would have on a normal day would have shooed away from our car-window or ignored at a signal junction. All the "good deeds" I would have done,all the good thoughts I would have carried were no match to that single great sight of the small,impoverished child returning the currency note and tapping the arm of the BMW driver! Thank you God, for making me realise how small I am before that child, making me know how much more scarifice and self-lessness I have to build in me to match that child.God, was that child You Yourself, teaching me this greatest lesson of my life?????
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
PAPPA! FOR YOU!!
PAPPA-FOR YOU!!
The young kid was no great player. He used to be more on the bench than in the ground most of the practice sessions.The coach was nearly frustrated.But the kids intense desire to play prevented him from telling him to stop trying.He was also touched by the tenacity of the kid's father who used to bring him to every training session,sit right throuh and cheer whenever the kid was in the ground-whether dribbling the ball or just standing still.Even when he was sent out, the father used to keep talking to him with encouraging words. The commitment of the father who wanted his incompetent son to be a soccer player was what attracted the coach more.The poor man didn't miss even one occasion when his child was in the ground.Not a single day.
Finally perseverance paid and the boy was in the reserve team and started playing the trial and second class league games.The father was more thrilled and cheering when his son was running around in the field.
Then the date for the final league match came. The team had a chance to win the league but for a problem Four of the best players were down with an infection and two more were in the injured bench.The reserve players had to be summoned and the chances of winning was remote. But the coach was determined to play. So our hero ws also asked to be present on the Friday when the finals was being played and also for the training sessions from the previous Monday. Monday and Tuesday the boy came and played the trialgames.The father was still in his seat smiling and happy for his son. On Wednesday the coach noticed that the boy and his father were missing.He didn't really mindas the boy wouldn't be missed in the match. On Thursday, he saw the boy walking in with his head hung low and dragging his feet. The father was no where to be seen.The coach didn't ask where the father was but did ask the boy to play one leg of the trials. He was shocked to see the sudden burst of energy and speed with control in the boy. By the end of the session, the coach was convinced the boy deserved to play more than many of the others in the reserve list,based on that day's form.So the boy was in the team the next day and to every one's surprise ,played with such a fire and spirit that he score the only 2 goals in the match, to carry his team to victory.The coach had no words.
After the match the coach asked,"Son,I don't see you father around. I am sure he would have loved watching you today.I am immensely pleased with your game. How did you change in just a day?!"
The boy repied:"Yesterday's trials and today's game were played by me for my Pappa.Even though he was not on the grounds,I am sure he would have enjoyed my game." A fter a pause,"These two days he was not in the stands but he was up above with God watching me play.He died this Wednesday." The Coach was dumbfounded.He patted the boy and said'"Yes Son, your pappa would have defenitely enjoyed seeing your game these two days."
The boy replied"Yes sir.He surely would have. Because sitting with God he would have been able to really see me play.So these games I played for him to see. When he was alive and in the grounds cheering for me, he was unable to see me play.Becaus he was blind!"
The young kid was no great player. He used to be more on the bench than in the ground most of the practice sessions.The coach was nearly frustrated.But the kids intense desire to play prevented him from telling him to stop trying.He was also touched by the tenacity of the kid's father who used to bring him to every training session,sit right throuh and cheer whenever the kid was in the ground-whether dribbling the ball or just standing still.Even when he was sent out, the father used to keep talking to him with encouraging words. The commitment of the father who wanted his incompetent son to be a soccer player was what attracted the coach more.The poor man didn't miss even one occasion when his child was in the ground.Not a single day.
Finally perseverance paid and the boy was in the reserve team and started playing the trial and second class league games.The father was more thrilled and cheering when his son was running around in the field.
Then the date for the final league match came. The team had a chance to win the league but for a problem Four of the best players were down with an infection and two more were in the injured bench.The reserve players had to be summoned and the chances of winning was remote. But the coach was determined to play. So our hero ws also asked to be present on the Friday when the finals was being played and also for the training sessions from the previous Monday. Monday and Tuesday the boy came and played the trialgames.The father was still in his seat smiling and happy for his son. On Wednesday the coach noticed that the boy and his father were missing.He didn't really mindas the boy wouldn't be missed in the match. On Thursday, he saw the boy walking in with his head hung low and dragging his feet. The father was no where to be seen.The coach didn't ask where the father was but did ask the boy to play one leg of the trials. He was shocked to see the sudden burst of energy and speed with control in the boy. By the end of the session, the coach was convinced the boy deserved to play more than many of the others in the reserve list,based on that day's form.So the boy was in the team the next day and to every one's surprise ,played with such a fire and spirit that he score the only 2 goals in the match, to carry his team to victory.The coach had no words.
After the match the coach asked,"Son,I don't see you father around. I am sure he would have loved watching you today.I am immensely pleased with your game. How did you change in just a day?!"
The boy repied:"Yesterday's trials and today's game were played by me for my Pappa.Even though he was not on the grounds,I am sure he would have enjoyed my game." A fter a pause,"These two days he was not in the stands but he was up above with God watching me play.He died this Wednesday." The Coach was dumbfounded.He patted the boy and said'"Yes Son, your pappa would have defenitely enjoyed seeing your game these two days."
The boy replied"Yes sir.He surely would have. Because sitting with God he would have been able to really see me play.So these games I played for him to see. When he was alive and in the grounds cheering for me, he was unable to see me play.Becaus he was blind!"
CAN YOU MAKEME SMILE?
Art of Smiling has Left me
Much as I want to smile
I have forgotten to stretch my lips
The curve is always inverted
The art of smiling has left me.
I have no anger, no grudge
Yet I find it hard to smile
May be the lips are made that way
The art of smiling has left me.
Much as I love this world
As much do I love you all
To show my love I know not, for
The art of smiling has leftme.
Not that my teeth are a hue,yellow
Nor is it that I am a dirty fellow
Much as I would wish and want
The art of smiling has left me.
Even when you sing and dance
As much do I enjoy thy pranks
The Child in me yearns to laugh,yet
The art of smiling has left me.
Much as I want to smile
I have forgotten to stretch my lips
The curve is always inverted
The art of smiling has left me.
I have no anger, no grudge
Yet I find it hard to smile
May be the lips are made that way
The art of smiling has left me.
Much as I love this world
As much do I love you all
To show my love I know not, for
The art of smiling has leftme.
Not that my teeth are a hue,yellow
Nor is it that I am a dirty fellow
Much as I would wish and want
The art of smiling has left me.
Even when you sing and dance
As much do I enjoy thy pranks
The Child in me yearns to laugh,yet
The art of smiling has left me.
INNER EYE
Inner Eye
Shock it was when my child opened his eyes
For he looked all around yet looked at nothing
Years of wait,,years of prayers
All had come to nought.
I wailed in vain and tore my mane
Cursed my stars and cursed my clan
Why, oh why! had this visited me
This curse of a blid first born.
I hated my fate and loathed my mate,
Together we searched in vain for a light
Yet, we could never hate him or his fate
For was he not our love's first child?
The tears dried up and the smile started up
As we found the child had all but his sight
The drip of the tap or the chug of the train
Made him sit up and take to rap.
With joy we found his yen for the song
With glee we saw his step after step
Be it the table or be in his cradle
Soothed was he with a song that we sang.
Much as he yearned for the sight of the sky
Much as he was intrigued with his missing sight
Glad was he that he had ten points of touch
Much against the two we called our sight.
His growth was a melody, so was his song
The more he listened, the better he sang
Moking at the power we called our sight
Making life rosier with his inner sight.
As he stands on the stage and he sings
Much do I wonder,so do my mate
Why,oh why, did we cry at his sight
Can there be a better sight than he with the mike?
Shock it was when my child opened his eyes
For he looked all around yet looked at nothing
Years of wait,,years of prayers
All had come to nought.
I wailed in vain and tore my mane
Cursed my stars and cursed my clan
Why, oh why! had this visited me
This curse of a blid first born.
I hated my fate and loathed my mate,
Together we searched in vain for a light
Yet, we could never hate him or his fate
For was he not our love's first child?
The tears dried up and the smile started up
As we found the child had all but his sight
The drip of the tap or the chug of the train
Made him sit up and take to rap.
With joy we found his yen for the song
With glee we saw his step after step
Be it the table or be in his cradle
Soothed was he with a song that we sang.
Much as he yearned for the sight of the sky
Much as he was intrigued with his missing sight
Glad was he that he had ten points of touch
Much against the two we called our sight.
His growth was a melody, so was his song
The more he listened, the better he sang
Moking at the power we called our sight
Making life rosier with his inner sight.
As he stands on the stage and he sings
Much do I wonder,so do my mate
Why,oh why, did we cry at his sight
Can there be a better sight than he with the mike?
BUSINESS ACUMEN
BUSINESS ACUMEN
We were walking out after our Darshan at the temple. The temple was crowded, being a Sunday. We were squeezing ourselves out through the wicket door near the security and walking back to where the car was parked. Suddenly I could feel the scratch on my left side. I turned around to see a famished, forlorn-looking, bare-footed young boy looking up at me and my wife with pleading eyes. I was reminded of the NO-BEGGAR ZONE boards I had seen along the road.Yet I hesitated. The child was so weak and had really beseeching eyes.
I think my hands went to my hip pocket to pick up my wallet. The bright lad immediately made out what I was about to do. He immediately told me in Marathi, which I could barely follow, that he wanted no money! No money ? I was surprised. Then what did he want? He continued to tell us that he needed no money but only wanted to be bought a small toy being sold on the pavement by a lady wearing soiled clothes and a small child hanging around her. I was surprised at this unusual request. My heart went out to the boy. See, here is one boy who does not want to beg for money. Who could blame him for wanting to play around with a toy, that would not be worth more than Ten rupees? There were so many passers-by , on the way back from the Temple, buying toys from the way-side shops and vendors for their kids. How could this small boy, hardly five or six, resist the temptation to possess a toy for himself? We went to the lady and picked up the piece the boy had pointed out. It was a toy car made of plastic. We were shocked when she said it cost Rs 25/- We bargained but she was not willing to come below Rs.20/-. We knew the toy wouldn't cost more than Rs.10/-.But the eager look in the boy's eyes and the lady's stubbornness made us agree to Rs.20/-. When the boy got the toy and thankfully touched our feet and ran away with his new possession, both our eyes welled up in joy. We were so happy that we done a good deed.
...............................
Was it on Diwali day or the Sunday after that? I don't recollect. But the Temple was again crowded. On our way to the Temple, we saw the same lady vendor sitting on the pavement with her spread of cheap toys. She had the small child with her alright. We also saw a boy sitting next to her and taking the food she was giving. Must be her elder child. But when we neared the duo, we were surprised to see the stark resemblence between the boy next to her and the one we had made happy during our previous visit. May be they all looked alike. We ignored the thought and went in to the Temple for our prayers. After Darshan we came back the same way. As soon as we got out of the wicket gate near the security,my eyes fell on the vendor lady. Well, she was there with both her children.When we neared them,the boy got up and went to the other side of the road and disappeared in the crowd. As we passed the lady, I felt that familiar scratch on my side.I turned around to look into the eyes of the same boy whom I had made happy the last time and the same boy whom we had seen this day being fed by the vendor lady. He started off in Marathi that he wanted no money but only wanted a small toy form the vendor he was pointing to. He was pleading with all the eagerness a child of his age could muster. I looked at my wife. She had also understood the game plan. We were shocked at this type of innovative business trick of this mother-son duo........... We didn't know how to react..............................................................
We were walking out after our Darshan at the temple. The temple was crowded, being a Sunday. We were squeezing ourselves out through the wicket door near the security and walking back to where the car was parked. Suddenly I could feel the scratch on my left side. I turned around to see a famished, forlorn-looking, bare-footed young boy looking up at me and my wife with pleading eyes. I was reminded of the NO-BEGGAR ZONE boards I had seen along the road.Yet I hesitated. The child was so weak and had really beseeching eyes.
I think my hands went to my hip pocket to pick up my wallet. The bright lad immediately made out what I was about to do. He immediately told me in Marathi, which I could barely follow, that he wanted no money! No money ? I was surprised. Then what did he want? He continued to tell us that he needed no money but only wanted to be bought a small toy being sold on the pavement by a lady wearing soiled clothes and a small child hanging around her. I was surprised at this unusual request. My heart went out to the boy. See, here is one boy who does not want to beg for money. Who could blame him for wanting to play around with a toy, that would not be worth more than Ten rupees? There were so many passers-by , on the way back from the Temple, buying toys from the way-side shops and vendors for their kids. How could this small boy, hardly five or six, resist the temptation to possess a toy for himself? We went to the lady and picked up the piece the boy had pointed out. It was a toy car made of plastic. We were shocked when she said it cost Rs 25/- We bargained but she was not willing to come below Rs.20/-. We knew the toy wouldn't cost more than Rs.10/-.But the eager look in the boy's eyes and the lady's stubbornness made us agree to Rs.20/-. When the boy got the toy and thankfully touched our feet and ran away with his new possession, both our eyes welled up in joy. We were so happy that we done a good deed.
...............................
Was it on Diwali day or the Sunday after that? I don't recollect. But the Temple was again crowded. On our way to the Temple, we saw the same lady vendor sitting on the pavement with her spread of cheap toys. She had the small child with her alright. We also saw a boy sitting next to her and taking the food she was giving. Must be her elder child. But when we neared the duo, we were surprised to see the stark resemblence between the boy next to her and the one we had made happy during our previous visit. May be they all looked alike. We ignored the thought and went in to the Temple for our prayers. After Darshan we came back the same way. As soon as we got out of the wicket gate near the security,my eyes fell on the vendor lady. Well, she was there with both her children.When we neared them,the boy got up and went to the other side of the road and disappeared in the crowd. As we passed the lady, I felt that familiar scratch on my side.I turned around to look into the eyes of the same boy whom I had made happy the last time and the same boy whom we had seen this day being fed by the vendor lady. He started off in Marathi that he wanted no money but only wanted a small toy form the vendor he was pointing to. He was pleading with all the eagerness a child of his age could muster. I looked at my wife. She had also understood the game plan. We were shocked at this type of innovative business trick of this mother-son duo........... We didn't know how to react..............................................................
The Motor Man
THE MOTOR MAN
Short Story by S Balachandran, B-503, Samruddhi, Road No:29, Sion(East),Mumbai-22
“The Motorman had clocked 15 years of accident free ride .But this day, closing his eyes, not caring to wipe the tears welling up, saying a prayer, he speeded up the train and hooted loud to muffle the impact.....................God! his count would start afresh from now. After 15 years and 36000 hours! Will he last another fifteen years?”
Yes, today I clocked my 36000th hour at the wheel. 15 years of alertness and vigil. The pride of carrying millions to their destinations safely, in this crowded Metropolis, be it in rain, in shine or in biting wintry fog, engulfs me as I prepare to receive the special award this evening.
My life has been tough, though. Getting a job in the Railways for this poor son of the Dockyards, in itself was an arduous task. Never had I imagined that the life I lead today would be mine. When struggling for the second meal of the day, to see Mom scratching the pot to fill seven souls would itself fill my stomach. Being the first born, I had to bear the brunt of the struggle, so said Dad and Mom. But this was not a daily routine. Whenever one heard the loud hooting of the sirens and saw the lining up of the long trucks along the Dock Yard road, one knew that hunger was going out the road for a few days. The signs heralded the anchoring of another Cargo ship, bringing with it handful of money for Dad and his co-workers. The next few days would be for feasting and the bubbly. Mom would only be too glad to convert our road side dining space into a full-fledged bar for Dad and his friends. The partying would go on for hours. We kids didn't mind it since the chicken, the beef and all the good food would find their way to our stomachs too. Mom would still be scratching the pots, not to trace food, but to clean the grime, the next day.
Schooling was a luxury, not affordable to all in the shanties. By the time one got over one's morning ebullitions, waiting in the queue to use the road-side comforts, it would always be late for schools, in any case.
But yet, Father Rosario wouldn't spare us kids. He would come every evening at the dotted hour, sit under the street lamp and make us read and write. He would wind up with prayers for us all. His tall, lean figure was a welcome one for us ghetto kids, more for the stories he used to tell and the snacks he used to bring along.
When Dad fell a victim to Union violence that day, little did I realise that the life we knew was going to change. Mom cried and cried at Dad's side that night. Even Father Rosario appeared concerned. The scratching of the pot to trace food, became more frequent. The very same friends who came to party in the good times, became reclusive or plain abusive. Life in the Unionised, Dons-infested Dockyard had become too tough for Dad. Finally Dad and Mom decided to move out to the suburbs, to find another job. The income would be much less, but the peace of mind was what mattered. Father Rosario decided to take me into his fold. Reluctantly my parents agreed. After all, it was one stomach less to feed.
The Days in the Church Orphanage are remembered more for the warmth I received and the love that was shared, than the discipline and the lessons taught. Yes, I also remember the traumatic wait in the cemetery when eight bodies were lined up for the last rites, crushed by a drunken driver the previous night. The realisation that I would never have to make those monthly visits to meet my parents and kin was numbing. Yet, Father Rosario was there, wasn’t he? His reassuring hand on my sagging shoulder was a comfort.
When I was admitted to the Technical Institute for my Diploma, little did I realize that I would soon bid my final good bye to Father Rosario, too. He did not even wait for me to return that day from the Institute, to tread back to his permanent abode. The loss was much more traumatic. I barely managed to clear the Diploma.
Then it was a struggle for survival. The Church had no way to take care of a boy at the threshold of adulthood. Even they didn’t know where I would go. The Dockyard Road was my only known shelter. Ten years had really changed the scene. The shanties were now double-storied. Bengali speaking occupants were in almost all of them. I with my Church-educated sophistication was surely unwelcome there. It took me days before I could get into one of the Punjabi Hotels flourishing in the area. At least it gave me shelter and food. The Institute had never said that a mechanic should not work as a bearer!
Years passed until that day when the regular customer whom I used to serve for the past few weeks, decided to be a bit friendlier. When he realised that I had a diploma in welding, he was only too glad to offer me a job in the Railway Yard where he had a contract job going. The offer was irresistible. That night I brooded over it. Suddenly it dawned on me that this was the same day Father Rosario had walked away. May be his soul was still watching over me. That convinced me to take up the new job.
The change was faster. The job got me closer to the Railway officials as well. I didn’t have to think twice when one of them offered a mechanic's job in Western Railways. I still remember the day I donned the blue uniform for the first time. The journey from a Mechanic to a Motorman was like a song. The officials were all very helpful and encouraging. May be Father Rosario was still watching over me.
That was 15 years back, to the day. 36000 hours as an engine driver, no, a Motorman. I have never repented this calling. 15 years of utter satisfaction. 36000 hours of accident-free ride in this Metro, where over 2000 lives perish on the tracks every year. Maria and kids were also proud of my record, grateful that my daily prayers were being answered. The sole survivor of a family, crushed in a road accident ,repaying the society by ferrying across thousands of commuters every day, for 15 years, safe and sound- certainly, Father Rosario is watching over me. I closed my eyes for a moment, in prayer and thanks-giving.
.........................................................................................................
As I opened my eyes, the apparition was there. The man was firmly grounded on the tracks. Right in the middle, with a rye smile on his face. Were his eyes glazed? Or were they steady? Did he wave at me? I yelled and yelled, and hooted and honked. But he was not budging. "God! 36000 hours of accident-free driving, and this?". But I knew the rules. I couldn't break suddenly and jerk out the bogies behind me into a pile-up. I also knew that I should not slow down, for that would make it more painful. I knew the rules, didn't I? After all I have been a Motorman for 15 years......Closing my eyes, not caring to wipe the tears welling up, saying a prayer, I speeded up the train and hooted loud to muffle the impact...............
God! My count starts afresh from now. After 15 years and 36000 hours! Will I last another fifteen years? The next 36000 hours? I was not sure. The apparition of the smiling, waving figure on the tracks would haunt me all the coming years, all the coming hours. Father Rosario, where are you and why did you take your eyes off me for a fleeting moment???????????
Short Story by S Balachandran, B-503, Samruddhi, Road No:29, Sion(East),Mumbai-22
“The Motorman had clocked 15 years of accident free ride .But this day, closing his eyes, not caring to wipe the tears welling up, saying a prayer, he speeded up the train and hooted loud to muffle the impact.....................God! his count would start afresh from now. After 15 years and 36000 hours! Will he last another fifteen years?”
Yes, today I clocked my 36000th hour at the wheel. 15 years of alertness and vigil. The pride of carrying millions to their destinations safely, in this crowded Metropolis, be it in rain, in shine or in biting wintry fog, engulfs me as I prepare to receive the special award this evening.
My life has been tough, though. Getting a job in the Railways for this poor son of the Dockyards, in itself was an arduous task. Never had I imagined that the life I lead today would be mine. When struggling for the second meal of the day, to see Mom scratching the pot to fill seven souls would itself fill my stomach. Being the first born, I had to bear the brunt of the struggle, so said Dad and Mom. But this was not a daily routine. Whenever one heard the loud hooting of the sirens and saw the lining up of the long trucks along the Dock Yard road, one knew that hunger was going out the road for a few days. The signs heralded the anchoring of another Cargo ship, bringing with it handful of money for Dad and his co-workers. The next few days would be for feasting and the bubbly. Mom would only be too glad to convert our road side dining space into a full-fledged bar for Dad and his friends. The partying would go on for hours. We kids didn't mind it since the chicken, the beef and all the good food would find their way to our stomachs too. Mom would still be scratching the pots, not to trace food, but to clean the grime, the next day.
Schooling was a luxury, not affordable to all in the shanties. By the time one got over one's morning ebullitions, waiting in the queue to use the road-side comforts, it would always be late for schools, in any case.
But yet, Father Rosario wouldn't spare us kids. He would come every evening at the dotted hour, sit under the street lamp and make us read and write. He would wind up with prayers for us all. His tall, lean figure was a welcome one for us ghetto kids, more for the stories he used to tell and the snacks he used to bring along.
When Dad fell a victim to Union violence that day, little did I realise that the life we knew was going to change. Mom cried and cried at Dad's side that night. Even Father Rosario appeared concerned. The scratching of the pot to trace food, became more frequent. The very same friends who came to party in the good times, became reclusive or plain abusive. Life in the Unionised, Dons-infested Dockyard had become too tough for Dad. Finally Dad and Mom decided to move out to the suburbs, to find another job. The income would be much less, but the peace of mind was what mattered. Father Rosario decided to take me into his fold. Reluctantly my parents agreed. After all, it was one stomach less to feed.
The Days in the Church Orphanage are remembered more for the warmth I received and the love that was shared, than the discipline and the lessons taught. Yes, I also remember the traumatic wait in the cemetery when eight bodies were lined up for the last rites, crushed by a drunken driver the previous night. The realisation that I would never have to make those monthly visits to meet my parents and kin was numbing. Yet, Father Rosario was there, wasn’t he? His reassuring hand on my sagging shoulder was a comfort.
When I was admitted to the Technical Institute for my Diploma, little did I realize that I would soon bid my final good bye to Father Rosario, too. He did not even wait for me to return that day from the Institute, to tread back to his permanent abode. The loss was much more traumatic. I barely managed to clear the Diploma.
Then it was a struggle for survival. The Church had no way to take care of a boy at the threshold of adulthood. Even they didn’t know where I would go. The Dockyard Road was my only known shelter. Ten years had really changed the scene. The shanties were now double-storied. Bengali speaking occupants were in almost all of them. I with my Church-educated sophistication was surely unwelcome there. It took me days before I could get into one of the Punjabi Hotels flourishing in the area. At least it gave me shelter and food. The Institute had never said that a mechanic should not work as a bearer!
Years passed until that day when the regular customer whom I used to serve for the past few weeks, decided to be a bit friendlier. When he realised that I had a diploma in welding, he was only too glad to offer me a job in the Railway Yard where he had a contract job going. The offer was irresistible. That night I brooded over it. Suddenly it dawned on me that this was the same day Father Rosario had walked away. May be his soul was still watching over me. That convinced me to take up the new job.
The change was faster. The job got me closer to the Railway officials as well. I didn’t have to think twice when one of them offered a mechanic's job in Western Railways. I still remember the day I donned the blue uniform for the first time. The journey from a Mechanic to a Motorman was like a song. The officials were all very helpful and encouraging. May be Father Rosario was still watching over me.
That was 15 years back, to the day. 36000 hours as an engine driver, no, a Motorman. I have never repented this calling. 15 years of utter satisfaction. 36000 hours of accident-free ride in this Metro, where over 2000 lives perish on the tracks every year. Maria and kids were also proud of my record, grateful that my daily prayers were being answered. The sole survivor of a family, crushed in a road accident ,repaying the society by ferrying across thousands of commuters every day, for 15 years, safe and sound- certainly, Father Rosario is watching over me. I closed my eyes for a moment, in prayer and thanks-giving.
.........................................................................................................
As I opened my eyes, the apparition was there. The man was firmly grounded on the tracks. Right in the middle, with a rye smile on his face. Were his eyes glazed? Or were they steady? Did he wave at me? I yelled and yelled, and hooted and honked. But he was not budging. "God! 36000 hours of accident-free driving, and this?". But I knew the rules. I couldn't break suddenly and jerk out the bogies behind me into a pile-up. I also knew that I should not slow down, for that would make it more painful. I knew the rules, didn't I? After all I have been a Motorman for 15 years......Closing my eyes, not caring to wipe the tears welling up, saying a prayer, I speeded up the train and hooted loud to muffle the impact...............
God! My count starts afresh from now. After 15 years and 36000 hours! Will I last another fifteen years? The next 36000 hours? I was not sure. The apparition of the smiling, waving figure on the tracks would haunt me all the coming years, all the coming hours. Father Rosario, where are you and why did you take your eyes off me for a fleeting moment???????????
Thursday, October 4, 2007
The Mobile Thief
MOBILE THIEF.
Roshan was frantic. He had no idea where he had misplaced his cell phone. He kept trying the number from his land line. Always the same reply :”Switched Off!”. This had never happened to him. He was not the one to carry the mobile around in a pouch attached to his waist belt or at the end of string around his neck. He had never, ever forgotten to carry his mobile or his house key whenever he moved out. May be the pressure he was under that would have caused a slip.
All that he could remember that Sunday morning was a phone call, (was it on the mobile or on the land line? He was not sure now) from Leela Deedi that his Maji was being brought in for the emergency surgery at Asian Hearts. He remembered calling his Pappa and brother Arun to check on the details. He was answered by their maid who said no one was at home. They had all gone to the hospital where Maji was admitted. The maid did not know any more details other than that Maji fell unconscious that morning at the break fast table and was rushed to the hospital. Yes, Arun had come to take them. He tried Arun again and again. No reply. May be he was at the hospital and hence his mobile was switched off.
Leela Deedi had asked him to go to Asian Hearts to make the arrangements for the emergency, mentioning Dr Nair’s reference. Maji was due the very next day. Inability to get through to his people back home and his worry for Maji had made him rattled. Probably that is why he didn’t recollect whether he had carried the cell with him or not, when he rushed out.
He remembered meeting the Administrator in Asian Hearts. Though he was in no position to answer specifics, he was able to get an assurance that a reference from Dr Nair would get a priority listing and Maji would definitely be admitted and scheduled for the surgery as early as possible. He was asked to get back with more details before the end of the day.
He had rushed to the super market to get the grocery so that he could keep his bachelor’s pad in readiness for the guests coming in with Maji from his native town. He had also gone to the Chemist’s to get his medicines for hypertension, an occupational hazard he had contracted. He just remembered rushing off to these places immediately after getting Leela Deedi’s call. But try as he may, he could not recollect whether he had carried his cell phone. Oh yes, he also had gone to the Temple on his way back to pray for Maji.
Roshan was really frantic by now. He was almost convinced he had misplaced the cell or lost it. He had gone several times down to the garage to check in his car. The security man was curious. But he had no success. He tried recollecting where he could have misplaced the phone. He wanted very much to rush to the Hospital, the Supermarket and the Chemist’s to see if they had found it. Or, should he try the Temple? His head was throbbing by now. He was all the more panicky since he was not able to get through to his people even on the land line. He could sense Leela Deedi’s slight edge in her voice when he contacted several times to get more news. But he didn’t want to tell her he had misplaced his mobile.
Ever since the mobile came, Roshan had stopped the habit of noting down telephone numbers. The mobile was his phone diary as well. He cursed the delay in loading the data from the mobile to his PC. He also felt angry in having dallied over the decision to buy a tracking software for the mobile. Roshan was down in the dumps……may be he will have to wait for a call on his landline from home….why were they not calling? He tried the land line once again and to his horror found the line dead! God! Not this too! The MTNL line was notorious for frequent shutdowns. Oh, what could he do? He went out to the booth nearby, just to find the phones there were also down.
Roshan’s panic knew no end. Which flight would they be coming in? Leela Deedi didn’t seem too know either and even her phone seemed dead now. This Arun…why didn’t he call up and give the details earlier? May be he would go and wait in the Airport this night itself. Suppose they were coming in by the night flight? Or could it be the early morning flight? Or the ones which come in during the course of the next day? And which terminal would he wait? Roshan had never felt this helpless…………….
…………………………………………….
He felt it might be safe to switch on the mobile now. It was more than 24 hours. Till he was able to sell this high-end phone, why not use the number to call his friends? Why not even call home and talk to Appa and Amma and tell them he might come for Diwali since he was getting a bonus? Of course, he wouldn’t tell them that the bonus was coming from sale of the mobile he had picked up on the road yesterday, near the Super Market. Why should he tell them his main source of income was from sale of stolen mobile phones? He had never hesitated to throw away the SIM from any phone he picked up. But this slim, cute model was so attractive and new. He knew it would fetch him a few thousands even from the scoundrel of the dealer, who always double-crossed him by paying a much lower price for the booty he brought in. He may not even go to the same fellow this time. He might try to sell directly? Of course he will have to weigh the risks. But he knew this model was priceless.
Suddenly the phone rang. He was dozing away in his shanty. He was woken up violently by the repeated rings. He knew he couldn’t take the call, or rather he shouldn’t. Yet the number was not a local one, that he was sure. He suddenly recollected that the same number had appeared as a missed call when he switched on the phone this morning. He picked the phone to switch it off. Then the ring stopped.
He was playing one of the games in the phone, when it rang again. He nearly dropped it. Without realizing, he took the call. The voice at the other end was breaking, not due to the connection. It was more of a choked voice,he was sure. There was a tone of pain and anger in it. “Why Roshu? Why were you not taking the phone right through yesterday? We have been trying one after the other to get you and Leela Deedi. Can you hear me? ..Roshu…when can you come? We can fix the funeral only after knowing that. You know, Maji never came out of Dr. Nair’s ICU alive …..…Pappa is still holding on to his grief…when can you come? ………..Roshu…Roshu..?”………………………………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The mobile slipped from his ear and fell on the floor with a thud. He watched helplessly the phone coming off in two pieces from the fall. He could guess what the call meant. He had not noted down the number from which the call came. He had no way of knowing who this Roshu was….he had no way of finding out how long this Maji’s body would wait for her son to reach…. He didn’t know what to do…He jus thought of his Amma and Appa waiting for him to reach home with his bonus….He was helpless…he cursed the day he stole the first mobile………………..
Roshan was frantic. He had no idea where he had misplaced his cell phone. He kept trying the number from his land line. Always the same reply :”Switched Off!”. This had never happened to him. He was not the one to carry the mobile around in a pouch attached to his waist belt or at the end of string around his neck. He had never, ever forgotten to carry his mobile or his house key whenever he moved out. May be the pressure he was under that would have caused a slip.
All that he could remember that Sunday morning was a phone call, (was it on the mobile or on the land line? He was not sure now) from Leela Deedi that his Maji was being brought in for the emergency surgery at Asian Hearts. He remembered calling his Pappa and brother Arun to check on the details. He was answered by their maid who said no one was at home. They had all gone to the hospital where Maji was admitted. The maid did not know any more details other than that Maji fell unconscious that morning at the break fast table and was rushed to the hospital. Yes, Arun had come to take them. He tried Arun again and again. No reply. May be he was at the hospital and hence his mobile was switched off.
Leela Deedi had asked him to go to Asian Hearts to make the arrangements for the emergency, mentioning Dr Nair’s reference. Maji was due the very next day. Inability to get through to his people back home and his worry for Maji had made him rattled. Probably that is why he didn’t recollect whether he had carried the cell with him or not, when he rushed out.
He remembered meeting the Administrator in Asian Hearts. Though he was in no position to answer specifics, he was able to get an assurance that a reference from Dr Nair would get a priority listing and Maji would definitely be admitted and scheduled for the surgery as early as possible. He was asked to get back with more details before the end of the day.
He had rushed to the super market to get the grocery so that he could keep his bachelor’s pad in readiness for the guests coming in with Maji from his native town. He had also gone to the Chemist’s to get his medicines for hypertension, an occupational hazard he had contracted. He just remembered rushing off to these places immediately after getting Leela Deedi’s call. But try as he may, he could not recollect whether he had carried his cell phone. Oh yes, he also had gone to the Temple on his way back to pray for Maji.
Roshan was really frantic by now. He was almost convinced he had misplaced the cell or lost it. He had gone several times down to the garage to check in his car. The security man was curious. But he had no success. He tried recollecting where he could have misplaced the phone. He wanted very much to rush to the Hospital, the Supermarket and the Chemist’s to see if they had found it. Or, should he try the Temple? His head was throbbing by now. He was all the more panicky since he was not able to get through to his people even on the land line. He could sense Leela Deedi’s slight edge in her voice when he contacted several times to get more news. But he didn’t want to tell her he had misplaced his mobile.
Ever since the mobile came, Roshan had stopped the habit of noting down telephone numbers. The mobile was his phone diary as well. He cursed the delay in loading the data from the mobile to his PC. He also felt angry in having dallied over the decision to buy a tracking software for the mobile. Roshan was down in the dumps……may be he will have to wait for a call on his landline from home….why were they not calling? He tried the land line once again and to his horror found the line dead! God! Not this too! The MTNL line was notorious for frequent shutdowns. Oh, what could he do? He went out to the booth nearby, just to find the phones there were also down.
Roshan’s panic knew no end. Which flight would they be coming in? Leela Deedi didn’t seem too know either and even her phone seemed dead now. This Arun…why didn’t he call up and give the details earlier? May be he would go and wait in the Airport this night itself. Suppose they were coming in by the night flight? Or could it be the early morning flight? Or the ones which come in during the course of the next day? And which terminal would he wait? Roshan had never felt this helpless…………….
…………………………………………….
He felt it might be safe to switch on the mobile now. It was more than 24 hours. Till he was able to sell this high-end phone, why not use the number to call his friends? Why not even call home and talk to Appa and Amma and tell them he might come for Diwali since he was getting a bonus? Of course, he wouldn’t tell them that the bonus was coming from sale of the mobile he had picked up on the road yesterday, near the Super Market. Why should he tell them his main source of income was from sale of stolen mobile phones? He had never hesitated to throw away the SIM from any phone he picked up. But this slim, cute model was so attractive and new. He knew it would fetch him a few thousands even from the scoundrel of the dealer, who always double-crossed him by paying a much lower price for the booty he brought in. He may not even go to the same fellow this time. He might try to sell directly? Of course he will have to weigh the risks. But he knew this model was priceless.
Suddenly the phone rang. He was dozing away in his shanty. He was woken up violently by the repeated rings. He knew he couldn’t take the call, or rather he shouldn’t. Yet the number was not a local one, that he was sure. He suddenly recollected that the same number had appeared as a missed call when he switched on the phone this morning. He picked the phone to switch it off. Then the ring stopped.
He was playing one of the games in the phone, when it rang again. He nearly dropped it. Without realizing, he took the call. The voice at the other end was breaking, not due to the connection. It was more of a choked voice,he was sure. There was a tone of pain and anger in it. “Why Roshu? Why were you not taking the phone right through yesterday? We have been trying one after the other to get you and Leela Deedi. Can you hear me? ..Roshu…when can you come? We can fix the funeral only after knowing that. You know, Maji never came out of Dr. Nair’s ICU alive …..…Pappa is still holding on to his grief…when can you come? ………..Roshu…Roshu..?”………………………………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
The mobile slipped from his ear and fell on the floor with a thud. He watched helplessly the phone coming off in two pieces from the fall. He could guess what the call meant. He had not noted down the number from which the call came. He had no way of knowing who this Roshu was….he had no way of finding out how long this Maji’s body would wait for her son to reach…. He didn’t know what to do…He jus thought of his Amma and Appa waiting for him to reach home with his bonus….He was helpless…he cursed the day he stole the first mobile………………..
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