A day in his life

His day begins when his loving mother shakes him to wake him up to begin his exceedingly long day. This thirteen-year old child does not have the privilege of a morning sleep on the pretext of a stomach ache so he doesn't even try, although much like the other children of his age he loves sleeping in. He dresses up in his khaki colored nikker* and half-sleeved white shirt colored in shades of black, grey and brown over the last three days and hops, skips and jumps for a good fifty minutes to get to Basant Chowk, one of the busy parts of Mumbai, even before the horizon turns light crimson. Once he reaches his destination, a chirpy "Namaste babu!" is uttered to the grave looking gentleman sitting at the counter of the chai ki dukaan and he's all set to hustle about the place taking orders and serving the customers.

The morning time is extremely busy as the Indian population needs to wake up with a refreshing cup of tea in order to make their teeny-weeny contribution to the nation's progress. Splitting the clientele of the area with the only other chai shop in the vicinity, the grave looking owner of the chai shop makes sure that he keeps Chhotu and the like on his toes. The morning clientele of the shop has become pretty much regular. Chhotu even remembers the orders of some of the customers by heart, and repeats their orders as a confirmation from them and proceeds with their orders. The weekday morning blues of a number of grumpy sleepy customers sometimes have Chhotu chided to hurry up for their orders. As the day proceeds, Chhotu's legs get relaxed too. In between serving people, Chhotu also has the responsibility of filling up the display trays, cleaning the tables, and helping the people in the kitchen with meager tasks. There are times in the day when he stands still and stares at the television screen meant for customers, and switches back to reality only when Babu's loud shrill voice pierces his ears.

The chai shop attracts a multitude of diversely cultured people to it - ranging from shopkeepers to call center agents to foreign visitors. Occasionally, some young modern enthusiast asks Chhotu why he doesn't go to school and goes on to explain the benefits of education. Chhotu shrugs and gives his marveled response that he's happy where he is, he can understand what's written on the currency of India, and he can tell fake money from real one and that is all he really cares about. Perhaps that is his way of consoling himself now. Perhaps he really is happy. Being of an observant nature, Chhotu gets to learn every single day of his life. The foreign visitors who go to the chai shop "to get the real feel of India" don't look down on him as a menial person - they are well aware of the dignity of labour. In two years Chhotu has learnt enough English to understand and get his message through to the foreigners. He has also realized that the gora people give more tips than the desi crowd. Occasionally, he sees families coming to the place, where spoilt children of rich parents show attitudes and obstinacy. It is very hard for Chhotu to imagine how that is even possible. But well, he learns - people are different. Life is different to different people too.

Chhotu is what people name him when they see him the first time and call him to place an order "Oye Chhotu! Idhar aa." He's small - he's just thirteen, and that is the most common name that a small working boy gets in India. Chhotu actually has a name that only people in his family are aware of - Ramesh. His world - his mother, his 15 years old elder brother and his 2 years old younger sister, is thankfully a loving family. After Chhotu and his brother reaches in the evening after their long day, their mother has already cooked for them, and they are all set to eat dinner. Chhotu doesn't get to play every day, but every week he gets a day off, and that is what he spends with his friends playing on the roads and the dusty cricket ground close by along with helping his mother take care of his sister and helping her get some bare minimum necessities for the week. Things have been harder to manage for the family recently because of the demise of Chhotu's father and the non-working status of his mother since the birth of his two-years old sister.

He dreams as big as his size. He dreams of owning a similar chai shop some day. He dreams of contributing to get his sister married - his mother talks about that a lot. He dreams of being able to play cricket with his friends everyday. His unrealistic dreams involve meeting Hrithik Roshan some day, and of being extremely rich so that he doesn't have to work at all. Nevertheless, he can separate the reality from his virtual world, and is leading a content life for the moment. He doesn't have the time to sit back and measure the contentment and happiness in his life - he has to do things the way they are now. He'll worry about tomorrow when tomorrow shows its face...

*Half-pants/shorts

The Cleanup

And now it was the turn of her study room after her room's closet. She was cleaning up her study to determine which items she wanted to discard before moving out. She picked up one paper at a time from pile one and skimmed through its contents and then put them in the second or third pile depending on whether she wanted to keep it or discard it. She held the next paper in the pile, unfolded it and began reading "hmmm so the reply...". Immediately she froze adjusting her eyes to stare into the empty corner of the study. The paper had curved corners and the ink along the folds of the paper had almost washed off with time as well as multiple acts of folding and unfolding the paper. 2 long years and she still decided on continuing to read the reply. It was a two-page long reply that was never sent to the person it was written for. She had no trouble reading the washed off parts of the paper. With tears in her eyes as she read the last line of the letter, "Thanks for being there whenever you were", among other things she tried to think if things would have been any different had she sent the email. May be the agony of being in nowhere would have reduced for her for a couple of months and may be the recipient's agony of knowing the truth so bluntly would have increased for the same amount of time. She was amazed at how untrained and reminiscent her heart had been even now, after it had got a lot more love in the past two years and had loved too. Anyway, there was no point thinking about the right and the wrongs now, when life for her had taken a very peaceful and calm road. She folded the paper back again like it had not been touched in the near past and put it on top of the third pile and continued her chore of picking up the next paper from pile one and skimming through it. A short pause from reading and her glare returned to the empty corner of her present study room once again. While her right hand held the paper she was reading her left hand sneaked to the top of the third pile and slyly shifted the top of stack to the second pile. A deep sigh and the eyes got back to reading the paper in the right hand...

No wonder numerous move outs and move ins and ups and downs have not snatched the heart's ability to reminisce...

Valentine forever...

He wrote his name on a piece of paper that lay besides the old Linux machine in the Computer lab that he was using to jot down a rough draft of his proof for the Math question. She read it, pronounced it very slowly. She looked at him after finishing, and he had a disappointed look in his eyes at the same time as he was nodding his head as if to say "Yea!".
"Oh! I guess I got it all wrong! I am sorry. How is this pronounced?"
"No ... it's okay ... It's just that ..."
"No what is it?"

How in the world could I have guessed that the letters "ll" together could ever be pronounced like "kh" and not "ll", she thought.

Oh she actually cares, he smiled sheepishly as he thought.

What she didn't think was that he would take her gesture to be really thoughtful, and what he didn't think was that was just her nature ...

That was the first meeting of these two vividly opposite individuals - Him being not-so-quiet not-so-intelligent-but-hard-working short-statured guy and her being the smarter, taller, shyer kinds. He was from England - the part where "ll" is read as "kh", and she was from America, where "ll" written is taught as "ll". Regardless of these minute differences, the Math course provided the medium for them to interact, for her to teach him stuff that she felt so at home with, and for him to pretend that he didn't know stuff so he could spend some more time with her - her continuously talking and him, well, disappearing into his magical world, sheltered by the cocoon of her words. He was well aware of the state of ecstasy that he was in when he was with her, and the intolerable pain of the time he wasn't. He was in a fix as to whether he should tell her about those inexplicable feelings? Was she in the same boat as him? After all, she cared how she pronounced his name; she put effort teaching him the Taylor's series and the Chi Square test; she made him not miss home as much as he would have otherwise.

It is weird how a human being - one single entity - holds two different opinions about one thing at the exact same time. He was going back to Wales at the end of this semester regardless of whether he told her or not, and regardless of whether she accepted his proposal or not. He did not want to miss the one chance of asking her to be with him for their entire life.Given the assumption that she accepted him as her life partner, would he move to US or would she move to Wales with him? After much debating, when being with her and controlling his emotions was proving to be no less agonizing than the desire of possessing her, he decided to throw the ball in her court, and let her take control of it.

It was almost the end of the term, and he had about a month before he was leaving for Wales. She was heading towards the library after the class ended at 4:00 p.m. He invited her for a coffee. December approaching, there was a warm kind of chill in the wind. She was blabbering about how the Vietnamese Math TA of her section was a meretricious guy when she noticed him unexceptionally quiet and thoughtful. She calmed down, and waited patiently for him to talk.

"I am going back on 20th December."
"Hmm. All set?"
"Uh. Umm."
Her eyes did the questioning for her this time. What is it?
Gravely came the reply, "Will you be my Valentine forever?"
She went blank for the longest two seconds of her life. How? Why? Now? I mean, isn't he going away for what's called forever? Was I supposed to tell him?
His voice cut through the voice of her mind. "You do not have to answer this. It's okay.I have been thinking about you for a while now, and the feeling of being so much in love has forced me to walk upto you and ask this question. I do not even know that if you choose to say yes, what vision should I hold of our future. It's just that I felt like asking you and ..."
"May be I ought to have told you, or I thought I did tell you - I am sorry if I didn't, I am married."

The Coffee Shop

She had to work at this coffee shop whenever they had an extra slot to fill in. She really needed the money that she was making. It wasn't an inexpensive living there.

It was summer time and she was working a night shift. The clock was almost striking 15 minutes past 3 when Ken walked in. He was a regular at the coffee shop. They had a brief chit-chat for a few moments. Ken's forehead depicted those extra lines, typical of a worried mind.

"So what's up? Are you OK?"

"Umm... Oh... Yea. I am fine. I am fine. Just a very trying day."

"Oh". Meanwhile, she prepared his extra-large black coffee with two sugars. As he was paying his eyes welled up.

"I am sorry - I have no money to give you as tip today."

She smiled. "That's absolutely fine."

"The job market is pretty bad. People out there make you work more than what they pay you for, if you find a job that is. I have had to sleep in my car for the last one night, and I have no more money on me".

"Oh! I am very sorry to hear that. I hope things turn out to be better for you".

A long pause. A very silent tear. And finally words to shatter the silence.

"I feel very bad at having to ask you this, but would you happen to have a $20 bill? I promise to pay you back once I get money. This guy 2 blocks south of us has offered me a job, and I hope to get the money in a couple of days from now."

She just could not say no. "Oh! That's OK. If at all I can be of any help". She goes inside the small room that was meant for employees to keep their belongings and reached for her wallet.
Was he lying? Is he making it all up? Will he return her money ever? Is he tricking her? Will he ever come back to the coffee shop?
And not to forget, those were the queries of a bewildered thinking mind. Hers was a mind that was well trained to take over her decisions. But there were also those few times when her heart convinced her to overrule the decisions of her mind. Today was just one of those days.

Worse comes to worse, she would need three more hours of work to get those twenty dollars back. She had a job, and her employer wouldn't say no to her willingness to work for an extra three hours a week. She wasn't as much in need of the twenty dollar bill that was lying idle in the wallet in that small room at the moment.

Alright, so it was all decided. She grabbed the twenty bucks, went out and handed the bill to Ken. "It's OK. Things are going to get better soon. Do not lose hope. And keep the money till whenever you feel you are not in a position to return it".

His voice was breaking down - Kindness wasn't all kicked out of this world. "I cannot thank you enough. I will pay you back in two days from now, and if you aren't working, I will give it to whoever is working here". Saying that, he walked out of the coffee shop.

A week went by. She had begun to forget that she had given twenty dollars to some guy who seemed to be in need. She was still deciding whether it was strange that he hadn't returned to the coffee shop ever since, or was it so obvious for every one except her.

Anyway, the missing twenty bucks hadn't changed much in her life. Life continued as usual.

Business was booming at the coffee shop. The summer sun was on the verge of drowning and autumn was setting in. One day, as she went back to her usual job, her co-worker handed her $22 and a piece of paper. She was surprised, "What is this?"
"Oh! A tall guy with a strong build and a blondish beard came a couple of hours ago and told me to hand this to you. He said it was yours and left you this letter."

The letter read:

Hi There!
Hope life for you is as beautiful as your heart is. Thank you so much for the money that you lent a stranger in his times of need. I had ended up with a job in Winnipeg, and there was really no time to make you aware of my changed circumstances. I was in Toronto for a family affair, and thankfully, hadn't forgotten to repay you. And if the extra two dollars surprise you, it's the tip for the coffee that I got from you on the night of my supposed-doom. And for the light of hope that you lit around me. And for the most cheerful smile on the most needy day of my life.
Perhaps, your faith in the righteousness of your heart might have shook because of no news from me. I still hope that this letter of mine will find your faith in heart's decisions revived...
Lot's of prayers your way from a person who'd be in your debt forever...