Barah Aana

I was feeling out of place, to say the least! These new clothes, my son said fitted me well; but I sweated in them more than I have ever perspired in my entire life. The Air Conditioning system of this swanky, uber class restaurant wasn’t faulty; it was me who didn’t fit in the scene! To be honest, I have never entered a restaurant; leave alone the fact of using cutlery. I was at unease when food was laid out at the table, so well prepared and well served…it gave me a new realization to the concept of food!

In all scrupulousness, my closest encounter to an eatery was the mangy road side arrangement of broken benches and make shift tables, which served a meal of rice and pulses for a meager 2 rupees. I was a rickshaw puller; that was my profession and my way of earning a livelihood. 7 to 10 rupee a day, didn’t leave much to save for indulgence in the seemingly insignificant joy’s of life.  My wife’s errand as a domestic helper added a few extra vegetables to the meal, but food was mostly a scarcity to feed my family of four. Happiness seemed a luxury amongst the chaos of traffic lights, the smoke of automobiles and the draconian weather conditions. I was paid for ferrying weights; over laden by scoffing of humans or the silence of objects, life moved as long as the wheels rolled!

The city had given me a rare dream, a dream which I had nurtured since the time I left my village. An incorrupt dream..a belief that I wouldn’t sleep hungry for days! From working at a tea stall, to various odd jobs I have seen the city grow. I grew, but the city matured much faster. From living in disowned drainage pipes, to deserted park benches, bus stops and pavements.. it was always a crusade to have a peaceful sleep; uninhibited by the stroll of night guards or the showers of rain or more lately the trifling occurrences of the rich. Over the years, my insignificant savings had allowed me to rent a room. I was happy; I had an arrangement to be called ‘Home’.

I never conundrumed myself for the reason of my marriage; maybe it was the loneliness of my heart or passion of youth or a demand disguised in customs of this society I entered a new phase of life. She was young and lived in the same locality. Our marriage was arranged and blessed by the elders of the neighborhood, through a small celebration of rituals and feasting…I took home my new bride! Over the years, our union bore us a son and a baby girl. But by the time the young chap could learn the affairs of the twisted human mind, she eloped with her lover. One of the drivers in the household she worked. I realized money spoke and comforted more than love ever did in this ever changing city. When you are abandoned with a toddler and questions unanswered; life surprisingly catapults you towards the dingy sheds of locally brewed alcohol and emotions wrapped in tears of unvalued living soon finds solace in the dark alleys of a red light area!

Poverty and my new bohemian life pattern gave way to inadequate care, lack of nourishment and an unhealthy living condition for my children. Though the doctor, appointed by an NGO, confirmed the death of my little girl by malaria; I knew it was me who had killed my daughter! Her death detached me further away from all family ties and responsibilities.

 Amongst this chaos my son was growing up. I provided him with food, shelter, clothing and sleepless nights caused by the pain of unjustifiable whipping. I never realized when I had turned into a monster. The scorn of the world, the intoxicated brawls and the loneliness inside had killed the traits of being a father.

 I do not blame him for running away the night I made him bleed for stealing my money. I realized he too had the genes of his mother; I never saw him in years, my son…only a rage prevailed that he stole money from me. I had cursed; that he died..Disowned him as mine, I pledged that I would never see his face again! With him gone, the last link of my family had broken and I was once again left alone.

As years passed, I grew weaker and my indulgence in liquor had injected in me a series of ailments, I never had money to cure! I no longer pulled the rickshaw, which was now banned by the govt. My mental stability was dwindling on the side of being deranged, and acquaintances were fast dwindling. Food was a now on the generosity of the remaining old friends and ever fading known faces.

This morning, the hustle of the street urchins disturbed my peaceful nap. It wasn’t their usual teasing or calling me with derogatory names or pulling a prank; the excitement of a big white car had gripped the neighborhood.

“Baba”… an unfamiliar voice echoed in my ears! A young lad in formal attire was standing in front of me. My delusive mind failed to recognize his identity. I tried to evade any conversation with this unfamiliar man, but his words had surprisingly struck a chord in my dried up heart. My old eyes were moist but I didn’t allow my tears to roll! The gathering eventually disappeared leaving the two of us to attempt a conversation. My son had bought me new clothes and toiletries; it was a while since I had the luxury of using such novelties. Though I tried to refuse, the hunger born out of days of starvation made me clean up and put on these new clothes. This man had promised to buy me lunch!

I was quite all the way, as his car drove us to a big restaurant. Neither did the dazzle of the ambience   catch my fancy nor did the occurrences of all the events since morning stir in me any thought to be baffled. The only feeling that was prevalent was hunger and the wait for food to arrive!

At the table the gentle man spoke of his growing years, his career and his success. I tried to pay attention to everything he had to say, but just couldn’t understand a word. His expressions kept changing from anger to concern and unrest. He had tears in his eyes at times, which he wiped with a pleasant smelling handkerchief. He asked me questions, I couldn’t relate or answer to; an eerie quietness spread across my face.

 The uneasiness of the young lad was disturbed by the food brought at the table. I stared at it but couldn’t eat. I had never used a fork or a spoon and my deranged mind didn’t know what to do. My animal like attempt to eat by hands from the plate infused a violent and uncontrollable rage in the man across the table. With a volley of sharp words and mighty swing he threw the entire serving on the floor.

I was horrified; covered my face to evade the peering eyes of people around and more so, to hide from the wrath of this lad. I sat on my chair watching the cleaners and waiters bring back normality to the scene, but the pain of hunger finally made me sob.

My lad returned to the table after a brief absence. I don’t know where he went, but he returned with a little composure. He placed an envelope on the table, said it would take care of me for a while! He added, that food would be packed and be given to me in a while and a man would escort me back. I sat there, still unmoved by his words.             

” I don’t know if it’s my remorse or my revenge; may be the repayment of your stolen Barah Anna’s!” … Before he left he placed a few coins on the table! 

Note: All characters and incidents in the article are fictional. Any resemblance to a person living or dead and situations in the past, present or future is purely coincidental!