You win some...you loose some

Parenthood at a brink

“It will be really hard from tomorrow,” Trilok thought. He was trying to sleep on his cot hearing the incessant coughs coming from his ten-year-old daughter, Geeta. Sudha, his wife, was fast asleep with her on the floor. As he tossed and turned in his Jhuggi, he tried to find a solution for his current crisis.

He had more than stretched his last fifty-rupee note, which had now turned into two one-rupee coins. His daughter’s cough syrup had cost forty-eight rupees. They were having a fistful of rice that would fill only half of Geeta’s appetite tomorrow. What…after that? He thought.

His misfortune had begun when his boss at Star Car Stereos called out his name that morning.

“Trilok, fit this one on 7644,” said Amit Bansal, the owner of the shop.

Trilok worked as a specialist stereo fitter. He had two boys working under him. His monthly salary was five thousand rupees.

“OK,” said he as he grabbed a thirty thousand rupees worth of Sony stereo from his boss’s hands. He didn’t know how it happened but as he extended his hands to collect the stereo, it slipped. The miniature parts of the stereo lied strewn on the floor. He quickly picked it up as if by doing so he would turn back the time. He shook it. The stereo sang without being connected to the batteries. Trilok froze and looked sympathetically at his employer.

“You fool, look what did you do?” yelled his boss as he delivered a slap on his face that made him to vibrate. He never knew why but an image of his daughter formed in his mind. He felt a tear trying to come out of his eye. He let it come.

“What are you looking at? Who will pay for this?” asked Amit.

“You can cut a thousand rupees from my salary every month, Bhaisaab,” suggested Trilok as he calculated how long it would take him to reimburse the loss completely, in his mind.

“For two and a half years? And what happens if you break another one, you b*****d?” yelled Amit helping him with the calculations.

He couldn’t speak anything.

“Get lost, you b*****d, before I kill you. Never come anywhere near my shop, ever,” Amit told him finally.

“But…Bhaisaab, please…” he tried to put forth a mercy petition before Amit slapped him once more. He had never felt so humiliated in his life. His head dropped as he started walking.

On his journey back to his Jhuggi, his mind kept on forming Geeta’s images, who considered her father as a hero. He himself had started to believe in her beliefs. What would he do now? How would his wife and daughter survive? What would he tell his daughter when she asked for her daily ice cream? He had never deprived her of the ice cream in summers and a five-rupee chocolate in winters for as far as he could remember. He thanked God for it was only third of the month and he already had his salary. He was worried though for how far five thousand rupees would go in these times of ‘Shining India’.

He loved his daughter very much. Although, not from the time of her birth. He had always wanted a son and was convinced of his manhood that he would get one. But, on that day, when the nurse at the Janta Hospital told him that it was a girl, his world came down. There was an uproar in his native Kaushaali village that a girl was born in the family. His mother was so unhappy when he told her. She had reprimanded him for he was the first boy in the whole family whose first-born child was a girl. He and his wife would sit beside Geeta, who was without a name for whole year, and cursed their destinies. As the time passed, he noticed that his daughter was more active than her contemporaries. She started walking at the age of seven months. And when she uttered ‘Ma-ma’ for the first time, it was only her eighth month on the earth. Still, he would have preferred a boy. His wife named her Geeta, after a distant relative. Soon, she started running and playing. He too started to play with her sometimes. When she would say ‘Babu’ to him, his heart bled with love for her. Still, he would have preferred a boy. He got her admitted to a Government School when she crossed six years of her life. One day, when he came back from Star Car Stereos, he was confronted with a question from the little Geeta.

“Babu, is God a living thing or a non-living thing?”

The answer to that he still didn’t know. But one thing he knew at that moment that his daughter was no ordinary girl for whom he should feel ashamed. Whatever apprehensions he had were dismissed once and for all on the day his daughter stood first in class-I. She never came second after that and he never wanted another child after that. He remembered how embarrassed he felt when he wanted to enter the Archie’s Gallery to buy a Barbie for her on that day. When he had paid one hundred and fifty rupees to the cashier without blinking an eye-lid, the cashier too felt the same. He still remembered how happy Geeta was that day when she had had her first toy. She would show it to everyone, she would take it to school; she would never part with her. Even when she slept, her hand would remain clutched to it. He had felt a proud father since then.

 

Now, it had been almost two months since he was jobless. He had tried all the stereo shops in the vicinity. All knew him but only too well. Nobody was prepared to risk a thirty thousand rupees worth of equipment when compared to his specialization. He had gone to far away areas too. There, the problem was totally opposite- nobody knew him. Though he had many references but he was better off not using them. Slowly but steadily, all his money was disappearing. And now, he had only two one-rupee coins to show for all his life’s efforts. He tried to sleep thinking perhaps tomorrow there would be a change in his fortune. But, he knew that the chance of him getting a job was lesser than the chance of his Jhuggi turning into an apartment. He contemplated suicide. No- never. He couldn’t leave his Geeta without making sure that she got a complete education. It was his responsibility and he should accomplish it before he died. So, the only resort left for him was the last.

He jumped off his cot. He had decided what he would do. He tore a blank paper from Geeta’s copy and wrote a letter. He kept the letter and the pen in his pocket before adding two screwdrivers to it. He started walking after he had quietly closed the door of his Jhuggi.

He had walked for a few minutes when he reached a Pandal, where a marriage party was being held. He looked at the road. There was a long line of parked cars. He knew his specialization. What he didn’t know was how to enter a car without the permission of its owner. He risked it.

When he reached his target, he found himself standing beside a new Indica. Its glasses were not tinted so, he saw his prey. A brand new Kenstar 100 Watts was staring him from below the dashboard. He knew that once he got into the car, it would take him less than five minutes to capture it. He looked around. The street was deserted. He took out one of his screwdrivers and manoeuvred it through the rear glass beading. The glass came out within a few seconds. He reached down for the rear lock and clicked it open. At an instant, he was on the front seat of the car.

As he was walking quickly back to his Jhuggi, there was a brand new car stereo in his possession. He turned around several times. He had left that letter on the passenger’s seat before leaving the crime scene. He just had to add one more line before making good his escape. He came back to his Jhuggi and slept like a baby.

As Mr. Diwakar Prasad returned to his new Indica with his family, he didn’t have to use his car keys to open the door. He was stunned. He switched on the lights and saw his stereo missing. He looked here and there. His wife was speechless, his children scared.

Suddenly, he jumped as he remembered something. He reached out with one hand to the area below the driver’s seat. As his hand touched a polythene bag, he sighed loudly. He pulled the polythene bag and opened it with a heavy heart. When he saw what he saw, a broad smile came automatically to his face. His family looked puzzled. For a man, who has just lost a brand new stereo, his apparent reaction was contradictory.

His two-lakh rupees in the polythene bag were intact.

As he was rejoicing his luck, he noticed a piece of paper that sat on the passenger’s seat. He picked it.

It read in broken English-

Sir  I am very poor. My daughter and wife hungry. No food. No job. I am very very difficulty. No chance without this. I am sorry. Please forgive.  -Aapka chor.

Diwakar’s eyes were now engrossed on the last line, which read-

“I not take your money”.

 

 

Reviews

[Marie]

I am very sorry this man had to do what he did. But I guess he saved his honor by not taking money, and one hopes that perhaps someday he will be able to repay for the stereo.