"Yeh samne kya hai?"
Ignoring the sarcasm, Avinash slipped a ten rupee note to the autorikshaw driver before stepping out of the three-wheeler, stooping a little to allow his five foot eleven frame to exit the vehicle. He reached in and pulled out his five kilo backpack, smiling inwardly as he noticed the airline baggage sticker which read 'CCU to BOM' in large letters, thinking about the fried sardines his sister in law had packed for him back at his brother's house in Salt Lake, Kolkata.
Blasted security at the Dum Dum airport, he thought to himself. They had refused to clear his backpack to be carried as cabin baggage because of the 'food item' inside. He had to walk all the way back to the check in counter thanks to the law abiding khaki clad muchchad.
"Kya farak padta hai yaar? Flight ke andar thode hi na khaane wala hoon", he had tried to reason with the stoic policeman behind the baggage screening counter. But mucchad would have none of it. Well, it was worth a shot trying to save the fifteen minutes of baggage claiming on arrival. Ah forget it.
He swung the camouflage style backpack over one shoulder and turned away from the autorikshaw to face the mild winter sun. He took a deep breath of the morning Mumbai air, closed his eyes for a moment, felt the bright red of the sunlight diffusing through his eyelids and smiled in the mellow radiance. There was no real need to hurry; he had already called Moorthy the day before informing him he would reach office a little late, since he was taking the morning flight to Mumbai and taking the Shivneri bus to Pune thereafter. Keeping an eye out for the morning traffic, he leisurely crossed the narrow road to the Vile Parle railway station, the smile still etched absently on his bony face.
The shining sun had reminded him of a smiling face back in Kolkata. That of his three month old nephew, whose sleeping face he had gingerly kissed before leaving the house in time for the early Monday morning flight to Mumbai.
He still remembered the feeling of profound happiness he had felt when he received the phone call three months earlier from his older brother Subhash, informing him that he had become an uncle. He’d thought he would burst with joy.
Holding Appu back in Subhash’s house had felt like holding a piece of heaven in his arms. He loved the way the tiny fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist. He loved the little baby noises Appu made when he was entertained or felt happy about something. He loved the way Appu smelled. He loved the amazed look on the baby's face when he swung a little rattle above his head. He could just sit and look at Appu all day and forget all the evils of the world.
But most of all, he loved making Appu smile. He little cared how ridiculous he must have looked prancing around the cradle, pulling ridiculous faces, making weird noises, sticking his nose out for him to grab; anything to see the little one smile that fully content happy smile that only a baby can show. His favourite stunt was to hold Appu's stuffed 'Tigger' high above the baby's face and bring it down slowly towards him. Appu would reach out with both hands and jiggle his legs, and sometimes laugh out loud in excitement.
Perhaps it's why everyone is so fond of babies, he reflected. A baby’s is a soul so fresh and innocent, free of disillusionment, one which can make the beholder feel complete. Making such a soul smile does bring about an inner feeling of fulfilment that nothing else can imbibe, he reflected, as he took his place in the queue at the ticket counter.
Monday morning sluggishness seemed to have affected everyone this morning as the line moved forward ever so slowly. The young man behind the heavily grilled counter, no older than himself, seemed to be new at his work, taking his time to count and return the change to the passengers. After what seemed an eternity, the person in front of him called out "Ek CST return" and shoved a 500 rupee note at the novice. Ugh for crying out loud, he sighed to himself. He looked absently around the booking hall. There was nothing much to see save the few homeless huddled under some dirty covers.
"Malik, thode chutthe paise de do malik".
Awakened from his reverie, Avinash recoiled slightly at the sight of the emaciated face, looked away hastily and started to count the number of people in the queue before him. The beggar moved on, a limping with a stout stick in one hand and a grimy bowl in the other.
A young woman sitting under a closed booking window barely a few feet away caught his eye. Two shirtless children were sitting on the floor beside her as she cuddled a baby on her lap. He gazed absently at the scene, as the woman rolled up a piece of rag, picked up a piece of paper lying around and stuffed it into the a fold of the rolled up rag.
He watched as she raised this piece of rag and lowered it slowly towards the baby's face, her tired face in a glowing smile. A delighted laugh broke out on the baby's face, in shockingly familiar radiance, as it kicked its little legs and raised its arms towards the rag in excitement. Avinash stared, transfixed; his mind went blank; everything else seemed to fade away. All that seemed to exist was this woman and her child, in their own world.
He blinked, oblivious of the weight on his back, or the railway station or where he was going. His mind spluttered incoherently, unable to tell him what he was trying to feel.
He felt a sharp tap on his left shoulder. He started violently and jerked around. The man behind him pointed at the ticket counter ahead. The novice behind the counter had his arm out, with an amused look on his face.
"Boss kidhar jaane ka hai? "
"Uhh.. s-sorry bhaiyya.. Dadar".
He scooped up his change with the cardboard stub ticket and stepped away from the counter, trying to ignore the chuckles from the others in the queue. Just before leaving the booking hall, he looked back. The baby was trying to reach out to its little doll; it had wrapped its little fingers around its mother's wrist for support.
A recorded message rang out on the public address system, announcing the imminent arrival the train to Dadar. He deliberated for a moment, turned away slowly and walked thoughtfully onto the platform.
2 comments:
Very nice writing style. Loved it!
Thank you Jabber :) Glad you did.
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