I lost my mobile, India lost its World Cup dreams and Indians lost their hopes! But the late depressing night ended and I started my work this morning. It was quite early at office and none among my colleagues had reached. Saturdays are generally chilled out days for me, work is there, but time also is there! So I was working with ease. I felt like having a cup of tea, so I planned to call the 6^th floor pantry guy. The extension was 649/648/647… I couldn’t remember specifically. So I thought of getting up and reaching the pantry all by myself.

As I reached the pantry, I saw the ‘pantry guy’ busily reading something on the small corner of the all the more cornered pantry. I didn’t intend to disturb him, so thought of making the tea for myself. As I reached the tea-machine, he hurriedly came and said, ‘Sir, main bana deta hoon.’ (I’ll do it.) I smiled and moved away.

He pressed the button, but nothing was coming out. He kept pressing, same result, in vain! So he opened the machine and found that the milk was not sufficient. He came to me and said, ‘You can sit at your desk, I’ll bring the milk pack within a minute.’ I smiled in reply, and he went out. As I also was coming out, suddenly, my eyes fell upon the books and register the ‘pantry guy’ was sitting with. I flipped the pages, it was mathematics book! Mathematics? That’s the last thing I want to see, that too in the morning. So I left the book and flipped through the register. Pages after pages, all filled calculations in neat handwriting. I couldn’t make out of which standard the sums were (any form of mathematics has only one implication for Aniruddh – horrible!). But I was noticing the handwriting, there was not a single cut anywhere. It seems that the ‘pantry guy’ was very confident in these calculations which I can barely apprehend. Casually my eyes fell upon one piece of line. It wrote: “Rajiv, this is your last chance to prove to yourself that you can do it and you can do it." I kept looking at that line and I heard the guy coming back behind me. He came inside, smiled and went to coffee machine.

I sat on the small chair he sits on and enquired, ‘Your name is Rajiv, right?’

‘Yes sir,’ he smiled.

I enquired again, ‘You are studying mathematics!’

‘Yes sir,’ his 25/26 years old face was looking like a kid (and cute).

I smiled, ‘Why?’

He looked at me for one second and then uttered, ‘That paper was left in 10^th standard.’

I remembered the kind of neatness and confidence reflecting on those pages and realised that he couldn’t flunk, so I asked, ‘Why was the paper left?’

He was busy in putting the tea bags inside the cup, ‘I couldn’t sit for the last paper.’

I took the cup of tea from his hand and indicated a request for him to have tea with me. He smiled and started making tea for himself… I asked, ‘Why? What stooped you from sitting for the last paper?’

He smiled and said in a matter of fact manner, ‘My mother was killed the night before the last paper!’

‘What?’ I was horrified! But he went on smiling! He narrated: He was a talented guy from the state Chhatisgarh, he was always good in studies. He belongs to a Dalit (minority) family. The ‘upper class’ from his village had an eye on their small piece of land and they refused to give it. So one night some 10 ‘upper class’ people rushed to their place, he was studying under the oil lamp. They broke into the hut, tied him and his father was thrashed like anything. His father kept bleeding on the floor from his face, his forehead was cracked. His mother rushed from the kitchen, and tried to stop those devils. They seized her, dragged her out of the hut, all he could listen to after that was his mother’s screams and the devils’ laughter! He can’t remember anything after that, he was unconscious! When he opened his eyes the next morning, he found himself on neighbor’s veranda. He learnt that his hut was burnt; his thrashed father somehow brought him out of the hut and then he (father) was rushed to the hospital. And mother? Villagers found his mother naked, bleeding all over behind their hut, she was gang-raped and strangled!

I could hardly say anything, I was shivering I guess!

‘Police came, we said what we knew, nothing happened. Father was interviewed by many people, police, social workers, and many others. Nothing happened.’ He said.

I was looking down at my feet, searched for words, but couldn’t find anything. So I uttered, ‘When is your exam?’

He replied, ‘1^st April. Sir, these people might not give me a leave. But I need to go to Chhatisgarh to sit for this paper. I mean… will you…’

‘I’ll talk to them. You will go home!’ I replied and then the word ‘home’ staring mocking at my face.

He smiled, I got up, and have been sitting idly on my chair for long! Now office is full! People are laughing, shouting, working, enjoying and ‘drinking coffee’ made and brought by the ‘pantry guy!’

RAJIV, I’M SORRY! DEAR FRIENDS, PLEASE PRAY THAT FOR HIM. I WILL NEVER FORGET HIS SENTENCE “Rajiv, this is your last chance to prove to yourself that you can do it and you can do it.”~~

It’s Sunday today. See, here I’m at the station. It’s such an empty station today. What will I do if the train is empty? An empty train is always scary! The heat is taking up slowly. White clouds are moving carelessly on the sky. You know, clouds take so many shapes, sometimes, it’s beer, sometimes elephant, sometimes a bird… so many shapes, it’s so funny to see them! See, those idle dogs are dozing on the platform. Look, the tea-shop owner at the corner of the station is also dozing. Tell me, why do people doze when they are alone? Can’t they talk to themselves? Who knows, there’s might be someone listening to him! See, now I’m alone and I’m talking to you! I don’t know whether you can hear me or not, yet I can talk to you. Can’t I?

So, what was I saying? Yes, about Sunday and empty train. You know, I feel very bad when the train is empty, after all train is so important for me. Somehow, this train is the home for me. My own home is not my home anymore. Why? I’ve left home in last December. No, no, I didn’t leave, in fact, my elder brother has thrown me out.. You know what he said? He simply said, “Give me Rs 500 per month, then only you’ll get two meals per day here. Else, there’s no place for you. Just go to hell.” He is right. And what could my mother say? So she cried a lot, hugged me, kissed me and asked, “What are you going to do?” I smiled and said, “I’m going.” Father never could say anything. He is no more! I guess I was 7 years old then. He was a hand-rickshaw puller, used to cough a lot, one night he coughed too much, vomited blood, and in the morning I saw people had covered his whole body in a white clothe. Mother cried a lot and she also started wearing white clothe henceforth!

Anyhow! See, I get diverted! So I left (or was forced to leave) my home and that day kept on roaming on the street. What could I do? Who will give me a job? I’m 16 years old, should I go and seek any job at any tea-stall or auto stand or hotel or where? Why will people give me job? You know, once I got 80 in mathematics. Mother thought that I will be an engineer! Huh! See, what I am now!

After so many kicks on my back, after so many sleepless, foodless nights, after thousands of abuses, after so many stumbling falls, I seized these packs of toffees… Now I’m a hawker! A railway hawker! Now you know why I feel so bad when I see a train is empty! You know whenever I shout for these toffees in the crowded trains, people stare at me as if I’ve done a crime. Few daily passengers doze, and whenever I shout, they abuse me taking my mother’s name. I know I disturb them, but do I have any option? Who will think of buying a toffee if I don’t shout! They behave as if I’m a beggar! I’m not a beggar. I have respect!

What did I say? Respect? Yesterday I could sell only 30 toffees. That means Rs 15! The ticket checker took Rs 10 out of that! None goes for toffees these days, little kids like chocolates, expensive chocolates! Hearing my shouts, a mother might ask her children whether they will like toffees, but they utter ‘Yuk!’…

Sometimes, I feel so low. In the late night train, I look to the sky and the moon seems to be a golden plate! An empty plate! You know so many times I’ve thought of putting my neck on the railway track! I will close my eyes, the train will come and THE END of all humiliations! There’ll be an absolute peace henceforth!

But something stopped me. I guess I shouldn’t tell you what stopped me, you will laugh at me. Already so many people laugh at me, I feel pathetic. My own life laughs at me. But again, if I don’t tell you, whom will I tell this to? Please don’t laugh… whenever I thought of committing suicides, her face came up! Her soft beautiful face, tears in those eyes. I spoke to her last just before I left home. She cried and said, “I’ll wait for you Bishnu!” Is she really waiting for me? You know, I saw her once after that. She was in the train with her parents, in a nice pink frock! ‘My’ beautiful Shila! She identified me, looked up, and then took her eyes away, looked beyond the window! Were there tears in her eyes? Why am I expecting her to cry? Who am I? Why will she cry for me? Why will she remember me? Why do I think I should be living for her? Why should I live? Do I really deserve to live? Even if I deserve, will I be able to live?

Oh, see, finally the train has arrived. I’ve to go now. Let’s see if there’s some luck, let’s see if I can sell some toffees, let’s see if I can get some money, and let’s see if I can delay my death for few days! But one thing I want to ask before I get up in the train, “Will you remember me?”

BISHNU, THE RAINLOVER WILL REMMEBER YOU~ HAPPY WOMEN’S DAY! GOD BLESS YOU ALL! ENJOY!