It was a rare occasion when Nitin came home early. “Feels good to come home in daylight!” he thought as he swerved inside his apartment compound. “I ought to be careful, many kids are playing around” he said to himself as he carefully passed by an annoying bunch of kids. He had nothing against children, but he feared they might harm his new car. His dream machine!
“We were decent kids when we were small… never messed around with cars, not even 2 wheelers!” thought he. “Well there weren’t any around anyways” he chuckled.
He was happy to see the development happening to the world around him. Everything had developed so much. There was so much of progress everywhere. The world was a happier place now.
“Hi honey… what a surprise!” screamed Rhea hugging Nitin tightly. He never came home before dinner time. Anyways, any reason was ok to hug her husband. That’s how things are when you are newly married!
Nitin slumped on the sofa switching channels randomly. Nothing on TV made sense.
“So how was your day?” “Your company fired you kya?” she quipped jumping in beside Nitin, again cozying into his arms. “These rains, the beautiful weather pulled me home” replied Nitin looking in Rheas eyes.
“You know what I am feeling like, Nitin?” she said coming close, very close. Nitin moved in closer, and shut his eyes. “I am feeling like… eating Bhel puri!” she exclaimed amidst peels of laughter. “Very funny” said Nitin as he continued flipping channels. “You won’t get Bhel for your babbby?” asked Rhea sounding like a small child. Nitin adored this the most in Rhea, her innocence. You can never say no to such a request can you?
“I will dear, but not because you tricked me, it’s because I love driving in the rains!” said Nitin trying to pull a smart one on Rhea.
“Whatever… now rush and come back before I finish making tea” she said pushing Nitin out of the house.
“My fees?” he asked looking naughtily at her.
Nitin hated getting wet. His job had demanded long commuting everyday. Year after year he had dreamt of traveling in the comfort of a car, especially during the monsoon. “Rains are so beautiful” he thought. “…when inside the car.” Finally his days of getting drenched on the bike were gone! He felt sorry for the drenched people passing on two wheelers. He zoomed along proudly, smiling to himself.
“I feel good” thought he.
Nitin screeched to a halt in front of the local bhel-puri hangout. “Oh Shit” he gasped as the car stopped inches short of another kid. “Hey get off! What are you doing standing here?” he shouted.
The kid looked startled. Frightened he climbed up the footpath and moved away. His clothes were spoilt by the water splashed by Nitin’s car. His clothes were already dirty. Half of his buttons were missing. He was wearing two a pair of 2 different chappals. A plastic bag covered his head. The sight of a street urchin outside his favorite joint annoyed Nitin even more. The boy was holding gajras in his hand.
He was lost in thought, counting his collection, slowly. The limited math he knew wasn’t helping him much, when suddenly a car almost got him. Frightened and shaking he had backed off. “I hope sahib doesn’t shout on me.” “Oh, my god, the water has spoilt my gajras.” He didn’t worry much about his muddied clothes. He was having a bad day. Business was slack that day. The flowers rot faster during the rains. He didn’t want to skip dinner that night like he had skipped lunch.
The Gajra boy tried looking away from Nitin who passed him angrily. Nitin had the ‘stay away - don’t dare sell me anything’ look on his face. The boy had become an expert at reading faces. “Stupid guy doesn’t have simple road sense, illiterate fool,” muttered Nitin as he went past.
The boy backed away, this time more because of ridicule than by fear. A lump in his throat stopped short as he saw 2 chattering women approach. This expert at reading faces suddenly jumped into action.
“Tai gajra gheta?” “Chaan ahet phula, 10 la 4 ghya.”
“Shee… sadlee ahet phula, ho bajula… 4 la 10 pan nako” she screamed as she walked on crumbling his hope.
The lump in his throat returned and he sadly looked away towards the bhel puri shop. His resilience started cracking as he saw scores of people hogging on pani-puri. A tear dropped down his cheek, but soon blended with the raindrops. Yet another unseen tear.
“I could empty that entire pot!” “I should exchange a gajra for one of that delicious pani-puri,” he thought as a smile formed over his face. He felt happy on thinking like a businessman. “One day I will have a big shop, much bigger than this. I will give free pani-puri to all children selling things outside my shop. No one will stay hungry when I become big.”
He was worried. He had not sold a single gajra that day. The state of the flowers and the heavy rain did not guarantee much that day. He desperately hoped that someone will buy. Lost in thought he approached a customer walking out of the shop. “oh no, not him again” he said recognizing Nitin. He immediately stepped back trying hard to hide.
Nitin walked out with a whistle on his lips and a hop in his step, in a hurry to get back home. Tea was waiting in his romantic abode. He couldn’t ignore the gajra boy as he walked back. He saw him shivering in cold rain, the gajras in hand ready to rot, a plastic bag on his head providing minimal cover against the rain but with a lot of hope in his deep eyes. This pitiable sight against his gleaming car was not easy to ignore.
The boy hung his head and moved aside as Nitin approached. Nitin recalled his earlier sentence “Stupid guy doesn’t have simple road sense, illiterate fool,” as he went past. A sudden sense of realization dawned on him. He felt guilty of trying to put civic sense in a boy, who may have never seen a school. He felt his heart sink.
The boy looked at Nitin, from the corner of his eye keeping safe distance. “Goodbye sir & thank you for making things worse,” he thought. He was taken aback as he saw Nitin stop and take a couple of steps back. “Oops! Now what,” he thought.
Nitin saw the worried face of a child. The innocence stuck deep in his heart. The boy held his head down in fear, ready to hear another flurry of abuses.
“Kase denar gajre?”
The boys face brightened. He looked up to Nitin in disbelief.
“10 la 4 saheb.”
“Sagle kitila deto?”
“Sagle?” exclaimed the boy.
“Ho sagle…”
“Uhmmm…” the boy started counting slowly one by one till he reached twenty.
“I hope sahib is not making fun of me” he thought as he finished counting.
“50” he whispered. “Will you buy all?”
“50 is it!?” asked Nitin a bit louder to reconfirm.
“You can take it for 40 sahib” replied the boy, not wanting to let the deal go. “Changle ahet ajun gajre. Baiko la dya, thodi devala dya…”
“Why spend so much?” thought Nitin, suddenly reality taking over his mind. “No one will actually wear them at home and why buy so many flowers for the puja? they will be spoilt in a day anyways. And I can use this money for petrol. Inflation has gone real high. I need to save!”
The boys eyes somehow reminded him of some past incidences which flashed through his head. The hope he had before going for every sales presentation. The hours of hard work he had put in over the years… Everything flashed through his head in an instance.
“25 madhe gyal ka sahib. Changli ahet phule.” The desperation in the voice diverted his stream of thoughts.
“Ok!” said Nitin “Keep it in the car”
The boy walked with Nitin to the car in disbelief. “Wow it’s so nice and cozy here” he thought as he kept the gajras in the car besides the steering.
“Do you have change” asked Nitin as he got in the car.
“Ji Sahib” the smiling boy replied putting his hand in the pocket and making a jingling sound of the few coins inside.
“Here” said Nitin handing over a 50 rupee note.
The boy pulled out a handful of coins totaling rupees 15.
“Wait sahib…I will get the change” the boy said ready to run to the bhel shop.
“No don’t go. I don’t need the change. These flowers are paid in full, for your hard work. ”
The bewildered boy looked at Nitin. Suddenly the world seemed less hostile. Hope was refilled.
“Thank you sahib.” The boy said with a sheepish smile.
“Keep it in the pocket, it will get wet.” “What is your name?”
“Its Nitin, Sahib…” he replied, and waved goodbye to a bemused Nitin.
“Aare pora, 10 la 6 deto ka” the same shrieking woman came back.
“Tai, aaj tar 10 la ek pan nahi!” he replied as he ran home, leaving the woman confused.
Two happy Nitins went home that day.
Originally posted on
www.kedarkadam.com
© Kedar Kadam
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She spent much of her childhood in the Dominican Republic before returning to the United States to pursue acting. Saldaña gained experience as a ballet dancer at one of the most prestigious dancing schools in the Dominican Republic, which benefited her later for her role in Center Stage. She is known to have a keen interest in fashion and has her own fashion line called Arasmaci, where most of her designs are influenced by her Dominican heritage.
