I was coming off a long break. Coma of sorts; no life , just alive. A
bad broken marriage, alcohol addiction, minor health breakdown, long
and painful rehabilitation thereafter. Anyways, my bad days are behind
me. I am a happy man again, at least, trying to be. I wanted to escape
out to a new place. So I applied at a few places, finally got selected
for this job in this backward state small town.
This is the first time I have come to a place so remote. This town is fresh, well off and well equipped. My flat was next to my colleagues'. His wife was very welcoming. She served me breakfast and tea at her flat.
"Aye Ravan jee, suniye...... isko aap apna hi ghar samjhiyee......kuch bhi chahiye hoga, humko boliyegaa, samjhe gaye naa".
She was comforting, laughing along as if she had known me for ages. She was talkative, asked me a lot of questions.
" Aur parivar- mehraaru kab laa rahein hain". She asked. I smiled.
"Nahi hai". I replied
"Arre haan!! ye bataye the ki talaaq ho chuka hai". She said.
That was innocently rude.It got a bit uneasy. She looked sad as she said it. It looked genuine. I soon settled among them. Everyone around called her ''bhabhi". She was such a sweetheart, very nice and caring . I too started calling her "bhabhi". I was settling well in this new town, new life, new house.
Next morning, I left for office early, so couldn't have my breakfast. I punched my attendance, saw around the office, nobody was there. I went out to have my breakfast. A roadside tea stall was very close by. A boy, about 10, was serving there. I sat there for a few minutes. He came to me.
"Kya loge sahab?"
"Dosa laa do". He went to the other customers. He looked playful, was agile, artificially well-mannered in asking customers. I observed him. He came back to serve me.
"Naam kya hai?". I asked
" Buddhhun".
"School jaate ho?"
"Haan, dopahar mein khaawe laa jaatein hain"
"Ghar mein aur kaun kaun hai?"
"Maa hai. Kuch kaam nahi karti. Deen bhar taari pikar par jaati hai"
"Aur pitaji?"
"Arre oo to nahi hai. khoob daaru pee liya tha uske baad dam chal gaya ghume laa.. wahiniye paneeye mein palat gayaa.". He laughed while saying the last words. It was funny to him. He went on to serve others.
I left the stall feeling hollow. I couldn't understand what it was. I had thought I would try to explain him the importance of going to school. I decided against, he wouldn't understand. Its unfair to expect him to understand, he doesn't know when he will get to eat next, will he even get to eat next, maybe it was a crime to give him hope, a hope for a better life. Maybe he just didn't want a better life, his own was too good for him, laughing playing around. What sort of man laughs while telling perhaps the most tragic event of his life. Insensitive, insane, irresponsible. Too harsh , he was just a kid. His story was sad, he was poor, it made me feel sorry for him. But he wasn't asking for it, he wasn't using his sad life as an excuse. He was fighting it out. I felt strange, I just couldn't decide what I felt for him.
As I walked back, I took a glance at him. He was busy, didnt seem to care. Maybe his was indeed a better life. He could laugh through his sorrows, if at all he felt them. I had made myself feel terrible over a broken marriage, which was bad anyway. When comparing his sufferings to mine, I just thought, was I even suffering? Surely it wasn't worth it. I decided to be happy. For the kid, he was enjoying himself. For myself, I had a life to live.
PS: This happens to be my 25th post. Took me 3 and a half years. Despite not being naturally gifted as a writer, I am glad I have continued for so long. Some of the best compliments I have received have been from unknown people ( mostly surprised at the disconnection between my age and content). One such is attached below (not the only one though, excuse me for self-patting).
I thank everyone, who has ever had patience to go through my scriblings. I value it. It feels nice. Cheers.
This is the first time I have come to a place so remote. This town is fresh, well off and well equipped. My flat was next to my colleagues'. His wife was very welcoming. She served me breakfast and tea at her flat.
"Aye Ravan jee, suniye...... isko aap apna hi ghar samjhiyee......kuch bhi chahiye hoga, humko boliyegaa, samjhe gaye naa".
She was comforting, laughing along as if she had known me for ages. She was talkative, asked me a lot of questions.
" Aur parivar- mehraaru kab laa rahein hain". She asked. I smiled.
"Nahi hai". I replied
"Arre haan!! ye bataye the ki talaaq ho chuka hai". She said.
That was innocently rude.It got a bit uneasy. She looked sad as she said it. It looked genuine. I soon settled among them. Everyone around called her ''bhabhi". She was such a sweetheart, very nice and caring . I too started calling her "bhabhi". I was settling well in this new town, new life, new house.
Next morning, I left for office early, so couldn't have my breakfast. I punched my attendance, saw around the office, nobody was there. I went out to have my breakfast. A roadside tea stall was very close by. A boy, about 10, was serving there. I sat there for a few minutes. He came to me.
"Kya loge sahab?"
"Dosa laa do". He went to the other customers. He looked playful, was agile, artificially well-mannered in asking customers. I observed him. He came back to serve me.
"Naam kya hai?". I asked
" Buddhhun".
"School jaate ho?"
"Haan, dopahar mein khaawe laa jaatein hain"
"Ghar mein aur kaun kaun hai?"
"Maa hai. Kuch kaam nahi karti. Deen bhar taari pikar par jaati hai"
"Aur pitaji?"
"Arre oo to nahi hai. khoob daaru pee liya tha uske baad dam chal gaya ghume laa.. wahiniye paneeye mein palat gayaa.". He laughed while saying the last words. It was funny to him. He went on to serve others.
I left the stall feeling hollow. I couldn't understand what it was. I had thought I would try to explain him the importance of going to school. I decided against, he wouldn't understand. Its unfair to expect him to understand, he doesn't know when he will get to eat next, will he even get to eat next, maybe it was a crime to give him hope, a hope for a better life. Maybe he just didn't want a better life, his own was too good for him, laughing playing around. What sort of man laughs while telling perhaps the most tragic event of his life. Insensitive, insane, irresponsible. Too harsh , he was just a kid. His story was sad, he was poor, it made me feel sorry for him. But he wasn't asking for it, he wasn't using his sad life as an excuse. He was fighting it out. I felt strange, I just couldn't decide what I felt for him.
As I walked back, I took a glance at him. He was busy, didnt seem to care. Maybe his was indeed a better life. He could laugh through his sorrows, if at all he felt them. I had made myself feel terrible over a broken marriage, which was bad anyway. When comparing his sufferings to mine, I just thought, was I even suffering? Surely it wasn't worth it. I decided to be happy. For the kid, he was enjoying himself. For myself, I had a life to live.
PS: This happens to be my 25th post. Took me 3 and a half years. Despite not being naturally gifted as a writer, I am glad I have continued for so long. Some of the best compliments I have received have been from unknown people ( mostly surprised at the disconnection between my age and content). One such is attached below (not the only one though, excuse me for self-patting).
I thank everyone, who has ever had patience to go through my scriblings. I value it. It feels nice. Cheers.
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