The Lonely Guard

The chilly wind pinched my face when I got down from the Kavyani Express at 1.30 AM in the morning. Across the whole platform I was the only passenger at that point of time except for some coolies and hawkers who had better preparedness for the winter than me. After 19 hours of journey in 2 AC  sleeper with double blanket, the transition was the maximum pain I could have ever expected. Oh my bad I forgot to introduce myself, let’s do that before I could find a place to hide in.

I am a software engineer who works in an MNC in Mumbai. So the next question comes, what made me to be here at this station in the odd hours?? Yeah, after finishing my pre-Christmas eve party on 23^rd of December I got a call from my mother that I have to be home at the earliest for some family emergencies. For the last couple of times all the family emergencies circled around to find a suitable girl for me who should have more attributes than bugs in my coding. That’s the other part but as usual I missed my early flight and finally managed to get a 2^nd class ticket of the train which had one stop over before I can reach my family for the EMERGENCY. So finally I was at the Rourkela station, from where Bhubaneshwar, where my family stays, was still a travel of 5 hours more by train.

I started walking from the one extreme of platform towards the exit of the station and there I found a guy sleeping on the bench with a kettle under it. I politely asked the guy “Excuse me, Can I have a cup of tea?”But I wasn't heard by anyone so I tried again with a higher pitch and this time succeeded and before my efforts go in futile I asked him once again for tea and the guy replied that he is not a tea vendor and showed me a direction where I would get one. I ran towards that direction and found that behind a big wooden plank couple of people were sitting and they had a small charcoal stove with them on which there was a small black kettle. For the next 20 minutes I remained there and those were truly the life saving moments so to say as the place was much warmer than anywhere around. Before I could say something a old husky voice asked me to come inside and without any hesitation I was in. The same guy gave me a portion of his news paper on which he was sitting and asked me to get seated. Looking at him I could figure out he might be a middle aged man, who was wearing a winter cap and a gray shawl .I kept my stuff and hurried myself to take a narrow space to get the much needed warmth from the coal oven. I found that the person who offered me to sit was one of the customers of the tea vendor. From his brass batch I could make out he must be a railways staff. After couple minutes of warmth I understood that for last few minutes I was totally numb of the chilly winter. Before I could ask for tea the vendor gave me a glass of tea and asked me to let him know if I need more.

In our version of life , tea and coffee are associated more with some other means than the basic ones. If you have to talk with your colleague you ask the best way is coffee. Or if your superiors have some good or bad thing for you they take you for a coffee or a tea break. But this time it was different ,it was more of getting in to your senses. So I enjoyed each and every sip of the beverage till I asked for a refill. All of a sudden a old guy among them asked me the reason, why I was there. So I told them that I was waiting for my train which was going to arrive in next 2 hours. Then with a curious expression he asked me that whether I belong to that place or not!!. Startled, I took a long breath and started describing my long journey in a brief way. When the guy heard that I was from Mumbai his eyes almost brightened up and he smiled back at me. Before I could end my story in front of my new campfire mates, I was interrupted by the mid aged guy and he asked me “where do you exactly stay in Mumbai?”.

Though I was not happy with the interruption but still managed to say “In Thane”. Then before I could start anything else that guy said “Sir why don’t you come to my office that would be better for you, as you have almost 2 hours to wait and in next 15 minutes the first Mail train would arrive post which one  can’t be seated here as all this space is meant for the mail trains. I was not so sure what to do next as neither I can survive the cold outside nor this place would exist if the guy said the truth regarding the mail trains arrival etc. Looking at my hesitation the tea vendor said ”Sir, please go ahead, he is the Station Guard and you can’t survive here for another 2 hours without having any warm clothes or a shelter”. I was not very sure of my act but somehow managed some guts and went along with that guy as I was left with no other option other than that. When I was about to leave that place, the tea vendor asked me “Sir Paisa” and I then realized that for that life saving tea event I have not yet paid  to the guy and to add to my complexity the old guy asked the vendor to put the bill on him. I did not liked that and  gave the vendor a  10 rupee note which came back to me after the old guy’s instruction to the vendor. Finally me along with the old guy left the place and walked towards the end of the station, where lights were as dim as my put on smile .Despite the fact that the old guy could hardly hurt me, I was having some fishy feeling apart from all the weather related suffering I was going through. Finally we entered his office and he closed the door. The office space was quite cozy and was kept very clean ,I could smell the aroma of some incandescent sticks. He offered me a wooden chair to get myself seated and a glass of warm water from his thermos to drink. Before we could settle in that place somebody  called him from outside and he moved out closing the door. I was little surprised by this act and got up from the chair, immediately after it the door opened and a head peeped from the door and said “I am not locking the door just keeping it closed.” I felt a bit embarrassed by my act and immediately sat back on the chair.

After a couple of minutes I turned my head around the whole room and found that the old guy was a devotee of “Sai Baba” so a lot of posters and calendars were neatly placed all over the wall. The room had a small wooden bed and a table which had some numbers marked in it might be the property of railways. On the table there were four books kept which were neatly covered with some brown covers. I went to the table and picked one and saw it was The Bhagvata Gita. So without looking at the other books I inferred that the other books might also be of the same genre.  

While I was keeping back the books the old guy entered and asked me to be comfortable at his place. He then sat on the bed and asked me my name. I said my name and before my mind could frame any new question to break the ice he said “Sir, My name is Haripad Behera .I am the station guard of this station for last 33 years. I would retire this year. I am among the few employees to work here after the new station was built here around 32 years ago”. While I was not sure what to react I said “Ohhh wow” , and then I realized the expression was not appropriate.

But without giving any heed to my lack of interest in the discussion he asked me regarding my job profile in Mumbai. No wonder, this is one of the most common challenge for any software engineer to describe what they exactly do. But in due course of time I had been able to figure out few witty answers for the same and one of them was “I repair computers”. He then replied that even my son does the same. I was shocked a bit because till that time I used to think that this very answer is my copy right answer but never mind in a country as of ours it does not make much a difference. Then came my turn as I was quite curious who else belongs to the same job profile as me and doing this infringement to my copyright contents.  I asked him “What does your son do?” and he replied that “He also repairs computer for TATA, his name is Pradhupad”. Listening to it I was startled as I also repair computers for TATA so I inquired “which location your son is posted?” and the answer was Mumbai. I looked at my watch and found that I had almost another 60 minutes with Haripad. So I questioned back “why do you stay here alone and not with your son?” He looked at me smiled and replied till the time he have his job there he can’t leave that place. Then as he ended the conversation we kept ourselves silent for some time and next moment he went to sleep on his bed. I was looking out through the unclear glass window and suddenly his heavy voice asked me “Son, are you going to see you parents? “. I replied yes and asked him why he was asking this question. He said “Beta for last five years I had not seen my son, once in a month he calls me up to confirm whether I am alive or not”. Not sure why all of a sudden I felt like as if some major breakdown happened in the room. I looked at him, although only one side of the face was visible to me, I could still see droplets of tears rolling from his eyes which were glittering in the deemed room light. I was speechless for some time and  was not sure what to say next and to help me from this situation he said that “Beta, he was married to our Ex-Station Master’s daughter six years ago and they have a small kid named Aryan. I had seen Aryan once when they were travelling from this station to Kolkatta. When I asked my son to come to my place he said, he had left his past much behind ”. I was not sure after listening to all this what to react so I said people do change with due course of time. He replied “Beta for the last seven years I am having 4 times food as I don’t have  any more responsibility, I used to skip meals earlier to save money for my Prabhu’s study. He used to skip his part of luxury to help me collect money for his studies. We used to have the best chemistry within us”. All of a sudden he got up from his bed and showed me the watch in his hand and said this was Prabhu’s gift for his father. Though I was hesitant of asking more about this but still I asked what might be the reason for the same. He replied “Beta, why do you want to listen things what you might also do with your parents, It’s better we should stop this here”. The answer made me feel that this is something that’s never gonna happen whatever may be the situation and to distract my turbulent flow of thoughts the railway announcement buzzed in to my ears which announced that my train was going to arrive at anytime. I got up from the chair and saw that Haripad went to sleep while talking, so I slowly came out of his office . From the far end of the station I could see the train lights but not sure why I was feeling lost for some reason.

A lot of questions were buzzing my head “Why I am here?”,”Why Haripad allowed me to stay in his office?”,”Why he never blamed his son for anything?”..and so on..

I was feeling still shivering with the chilly waves but not sure why the pain of Haripad was hurting me more than anything. I was not sure, whether I was trying to put myself in Prabhupad place or what?

I reached my place at 10 AM in the morning and was overwhelmed the way my family greeted me but I was still not able to forget the tears that glittered in deem light as if they were bringing light to certain thoughts of  mine with which I have had some close proximity including my fears. To overcome all, I hugged my father and from my inner soul thanked him for everything and made a promise to myself.

Next day I looked in to some of the social sites to find Prabhupad and found “one who repairs computer in Mumbai”. Thanks to his privacy settings I could dig into hundreds of his pictures with his family and friends. Not sure what to do next, I still sent him a message saying that “Your Dad Still loves you the way you love Aryan”. Neither I got a reply from Prabhupad nor a chance to meet his father again. 

Love In Black and White

Lali

On one of the wet rainy day in Mumbai, while I was rushing for my office bus I came across a small girl who was running towards the C-wing of our apartment. She caught my attention because it was unusual walk, as I found that she had chappal only in one foot and held back the other one. By the time I reached bus stop she rushed in with a Tiffin box and by now she was bare footed. Suddenly a blunt voice a lady in her late thirties appeared asking her “what is this bull shit. why are you moving bare footed?” There was a dead silence for few seconds but then the some murmuring of the little chaps made the zone little bit lighter. The difference in the girl was evident among the whole crowd as the rest all were properly dressed up. Though the gathering was for the children waiting for their school bus, the parents accompanying them were as properly dressed up as their successors. To my astonishment I found some of their mothers in their exclusive night gown but with Lipstick on their lips. I guess their busy morning schedule has left them with no time for their beautification. Some of them were wearing very expensive watches so that probably they won’t miss out on the bus. All of a sudden again that harsh voice interrupted my thought process “Lali, Are you going to stand here till the bus arrives? Who would be doing the rest of stuff?” . I realized the small girl was Lali (English meaning Reddish).Immediately Lali vanished from that gathering. Then the same lady started some proper RCA (root cause analysis) to the event saying this girl (Lali) is a real pain as she does not know how to work. Though the lady is spending so much of money on Lali but she is of no use as end of the day the lady has to do the entire house hold work. As I love to assess or judge people from their attire and their appearance, I immediately stared at her. She had long nails with exclusive designs and nail paints on them, was wearing around 4-5 rings with the expensive glittering gems catching my attention and to cover her she had a silk gown with some sort furs in it. I remembered when I have to clean my whole house on weekend the first thing I used to do is wear a boxer short and then get rid of my long nails so that by the end of my work they should be clean and intact. So the appearance of the lady and her story of Lali was bit of a paradox for me. But I was sure miracle could happen at any time. In the mean time the rude “PWAAAN” that was my office bus’s horn ordered me to get in.
The next day was Friday. I guess everyone working in a corporate IT firm long for this day to come as they would be out of the cattle yard for next two days and the so called business casuals attire let them feel good. When I reached my stop that day it looked more colorful than usual as the small chaps were wearing colorful uniforms and their bags and bottles added more vibrancy to it. I found my distinct small lady Lali holding a bag and bottle in her hand but without a uniform. I thought she was holding it for someone else. Suddenly a greeting voice for Mrs Gandhi distracted my observation and I found Ms Gandhi was none other than the lady who was screaming at Lali yesterday. Thank god I found a name for this observation specie. I found Lali calling Aryan and asking him to take the bag and bottle as bus would be there in no time. Then as usual the harsh and proudly voice surfaces “Don’t you have little bit of patience? Let him play, when the bus comes you should give him.”An adorable and blushing smile from Aryan showed abutment to Mrs Gandhi’s word. But when I looked at Lali I could find she was hurt due to the harsh words and her eyes looked wet with few droplets of tears rolling out. By this time the school bus arrived and Lali kept the bag till the last leap of Aryan into the bus, then without any expression she went back to the apartment.
I tried to remember whether Mrs Gandhi was holding Aryan’s belonging yesterday but I could not imagine that as she was dressed up in such a way that it would not have matched her attire. Then all of a sudden a bunch of greetings were waived off by the parents and bus went. Ms Gandhi started the conversation “I am fed up, these maid are result of your last birth of sins. They only ask for good food and good clothes but while working they would do all sort of blunders. Could you believe Lali eats twice the amount our whole family takes?” Before I could be part of more such allegation my bus mate patted on my shoulder and asked me to get in.
It was around 8 o’clock in the evening when I got down from office bus at my place and I opted to embrace some serious health hazards by taking some smokes. I excused myself from a small lady within the crowd and asked two smokes. The shopkeeper gave me two smokes and asked me to wait for the change and I never mind this because I was not sure about the final count of the smokes. By the time I finished one the place became quite and I heard a pleading voice saying “I don’t have that much”. I turned back and found the small girl to be Lali. She was pleading to the shopkeeper to let her go and not to tell her mistress about the same. After few minutes of such conversation the shopkeeper used some slangs for her. I interrupted the guy and asked him what the matter is. I was told that she has called someone from the PCO and the bill is of 33 rupees and she had only 20 and this type of thing often happens with her. I brought an end to the conversation by asking the shop keeper to take the rest of the amount from me. I took the money, started crossing road and by the time I was entering my building premises Lali came to me and said “Thank You Bhaiya”. I have never felt that thirteen rupee can be such valuable at times. I immediately confirmed whether she stays at Mrs Gandhi’s place and she nodded her head. I asked her age, reply was 15 but I was surprised to hear that as she must not be more than 10. I asked her whether she doesn’t go to school and with an unusual smile she said no and she had left the school last year. I asked her immediately when she left the school she was in which class and she said she was in sixth standard. I was not wrong with my guess work so I asked her the reason she left the school. She said her father asked her to go to Mumbai with an uncle who left her at Ms Gandhi’s place. I wanted to know who was over the phone then she said her mom. I don’t know why I was so curious to know about her but suddenly she said bhaiya I have to go otherwise Ms Gandhi would scold me. Before I could utter a word she vanished.
After the weekend on Monday at the bus stop I found everyone except Lali. I was looking for her all the time I was there but she did not turn up. In the evening though I was not in a mood to smoke but I forced myself to do so if I could find her. I thought of asking the shopkeeper but could not do so. I came back to my place and sat on the window where I would get the maximum view of my apartment. Next day the same thing happened only difference was I managed to ask the Shop Keeper about her but he said she has not been there since the last time I was there. The whole week I tried to find her where about but still I was clue less. On the next weekend when I was going for morning breakfast I saw Lali with a middle aged man. I thought of going to her and ask her why she was not there since last one week but I found the man carrying some luggage as if they are moving out. The social constraints did not allow me to go to her and ask the reason behind all these.” Namaste Sirji” the words of Society watchmen helped me to divert my attention from them. While he found me staring at them,
he told me”Mrs Gandhi”. He said the girl was Mrs Gandhi’s maid but on last week Mr Gandhi’s driver found her talking to a guy outside the building premises. When she was asked about this she said that she did not know the guy. But this explanation could not eliminate Mrs Gandhi’s doubt. She beat the girl mercilessly and kept her under house arrest for last 4 days. When neighbors came to know this fact they called some NGO (it was a child helpline) and they freed her. Those guys called Lali’s parents and the man with Lali is her father. I felt as if I lost a battle brutally and as if the whole world fell down on me. Before I could recover myself from this event a known voice called me “Bhaiya”. It was Lali, she was smiling but I could find the mark of wounds on her face, her swelled eyes and chin. Before I could say anything to her he gave me a folded ten rupee note. I could not deny her as I was feeling as if I have lost all my sense. All of a sudden she ran towards her father. I was standing like a statue and watch man was asking me “What happen Sir?” “Why did she give you money?”.
But I was mum and could hardly speak out.