A few friends and I had been to Cal. No . . Not California, Calcutta. Cal being the undergraduate slang for Kolkotta nee Calcutta. A major book exhibition and a leather goods exhibition were the attractions. In the morning, five of us had reached the railway station on three bicycles. One the way back, we met another friend and hence we were six, we returned.
One was tired, another was not used to riding in the dark. Dark indeed, as there were no street lights either. We hired a rickshaw. A cycle rickshaw. We hated this inhuman mode of transport. Whenever we decided to hire one, we eased our consciousness by getting off it on upward gradients. We even pushed the rickshaw to help the rickshaw wallah (RW) cross the railway level crossing which was nowhere near level. We agreed to pay practically any fare the RW quoted and sometimes more.
As we started the cyclecade with two bicycle outriders, the unmistakable smell of alcohol and sweat hit us. The RW, obviously, had had a couple of shots.
We commented about it, made jokes about it. We speculated about our fate if the sozzled RW missed the gentle turn before a culvert and we all landed in the sewerage flowing undeneath. Vaitarani we called it.
After an incident free ride we arrived at the VS Hall (Vidya Sagar Hall) and alighted. I was about to pay the RW when he asked me, still breathing hard, sweat pouring down his cheeks - even on that cool early winter night, "Saab, you were talking about my being drunk, weren't you? You thought that I can not understand English. Saab, I can. I have passed BA. I can't speak English but I understand it well. What to do saab, I have to do this hard work for the sake of this traitorous stomach. I tried for a job. Without influence and money to bribe how can one get a job? I do this job. It is hard, Saab. At the end of the day, when I lie down, the whole body aches. The only way to ease the pain is to eat a little and drink. Pardon me Saab, I know it stinks."
He said all this without rancour, with very little self pity. Without anger. Without humiliation.
I have never felt smaller.
One was tired, another was not used to riding in the dark. Dark indeed, as there were no street lights either. We hired a rickshaw. A cycle rickshaw. We hated this inhuman mode of transport. Whenever we decided to hire one, we eased our consciousness by getting off it on upward gradients. We even pushed the rickshaw to help the rickshaw wallah (RW) cross the railway level crossing which was nowhere near level. We agreed to pay practically any fare the RW quoted and sometimes more.
As we started the cyclecade with two bicycle outriders, the unmistakable smell of alcohol and sweat hit us. The RW, obviously, had had a couple of shots.
We commented about it, made jokes about it. We speculated about our fate if the sozzled RW missed the gentle turn before a culvert and we all landed in the sewerage flowing undeneath. Vaitarani we called it.
After an incident free ride we arrived at the VS Hall (Vidya Sagar Hall) and alighted. I was about to pay the RW when he asked me, still breathing hard, sweat pouring down his cheeks - even on that cool early winter night, "Saab, you were talking about my being drunk, weren't you? You thought that I can not understand English. Saab, I can. I have passed BA. I can't speak English but I understand it well. What to do saab, I have to do this hard work for the sake of this traitorous stomach. I tried for a job. Without influence and money to bribe how can one get a job? I do this job. It is hard, Saab. At the end of the day, when I lie down, the whole body aches. The only way to ease the pain is to eat a little and drink. Pardon me Saab, I know it stinks."
He said all this without rancour, with very little self pity. Without anger. Without humiliation.
I have never felt smaller.
5 comments:
I hope I end up getting a good job now that I've passed M.C.A.!!
On a serious note, why did you feel small about it? I believe drinking is not the only way to endure body-ache. Aren't pain- killers/balms cheaper? I'm not being heartless but I think if body-ache is the only case then it is an excuse.
Let me put on some literary airs. It is my job to write. It is upto you to react to it. :-)
Seriously, humans are human beings and are not human thinkings. Each reacts differently to the same stimulus.
The point of my story was not about the appropriateness of liquor as a painkiller. It was about our insensitivity to another man's pain and that I judged a man by his appearance. Bad enough.
Is this the same shruthi or some other shruthi?
- Kashi
@ Anonymous - Some other Shruti :-)
Kgp often excites us in some way or the other. It keeps us on our toes unlike other IITs.
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