A boy with a gift: a short story
When the rain stopped, chottu had to rush to deliver tea to all the stalls of the Jaunpur bazaar. The traders of Jaunpur were too stern of their tea times. The psychological addiction of tea had taken over their minds insidiously while their generations were busy counting the gains and riches.
The rainy season at Jaunpur was a sight to behold in the skies while a battle to win against the mud and mosquitoes on the land. Only if the locals knew how beautiful Jaunpur was, with its old world charm, the colours of autumn, the hymns of the temple nearby and the smell of jalebis and pedes trickling the nose of all who passed by. The bazaar was small, compact, crowded, just like any other suburban market in the east. At any point in the day, one could listen to the cries of the vendors, garment sellers, women bargaining for vegetables, kids running behind the white calf that would escape its compounds whenever it had a chance. As if it was a festival everyday, no time to stop, no time to reflect and none at all to see the impending changes brought by time.
The tea was mostly water, people complained knowing well that cream was an exorbitant commodity for all in Jaunpur. All the vexation however was directed to our innocent little chottu. Only 11 years old, chottu had some big responsibilities on his tiny shoulders. He was not one of the local. Hailing from a village some 100 kms away, chottu was the only child of his parents. His family was very poor, no surprise there! His father was a gambler and drunkard, while his mother used to work in the households of the neighbourhood, making barely enough to keep the body and soul of her family together. Physical abuse and fight was a common scene in his tiny little home there, and there was nothing he could do to help his poor mother. Sensing the need, his mother sent him to stay in Jaunpur with his maternal grandparents. They were old, humble and adored chottu.
It was a rainy Tuesday. chottu knew coz the temple was playing bajrangbali hymns. He did not like them, as he did not agree with blind faith in god. To say the least he was an atheist and miracles didn't exist in his dictionary but little did he know things were up for a change.
Running behind the chain of ration stores, chottu reached his most beloved customer, Ahmed mama. Ahmed jahan was old, he was a tailor most of his life, and a good one at that. He never understood why chottu would call him mama owing to the huge age difference, but nevertheless he loved him like his own. The childless old man had too much of love in his heart to ever scream at chottu mian. Smilling like an idiot chottu arrived, almost wet:
"yeh lo mama, aapki cha. daud kar aaya main, taaki thandi na ho jai"
Ahmed's face lit up, he said:
"bahut achaa kiye. sabaash! ye bata, jalebi khayega?"
The advent of readymade garments were hurting his business, yet, the old man never left any opportunity to make the child happy.
"haanji, baniye ne abhi abhi tali hai, aap bhi chalo, bahot bheed hai wahan"
Ahmed smiled and said:
"Aaj aap hi jao mian, eid aagayi hai, mujhe bada kaam hai, kapdo ka pahaar silna hai, kal bhi chai le aana, samjha!" and he handed over char aana from his wooden drawer. Chottu went.
On his way, chottu was thinking whether he should buy jalebis or betray his mama and get kachaudis this time when something striked his mind. There was a weird familiarity with the incident just happened. Chottu, being too preoccupied, debating jalebis against kachaudis decided to ignore.
What an amazing evening it was. chottu reached home, to his nani, and asked if nana has returned from Benaras. To his utter surprise nana had still not returned from the visit to his old friend. She served him dinner and he ate, beside her nani waiving the crooked hand fan at him, he felt proud, like a man of the house. The kerosene lamp let out thick soot making the night darker by each second. Time for bed...
To be contd...
The rainy season at Jaunpur was a sight to behold in the skies while a battle to win against the mud and mosquitoes on the land. Only if the locals knew how beautiful Jaunpur was, with its old world charm, the colours of autumn, the hymns of the temple nearby and the smell of jalebis and pedes trickling the nose of all who passed by. The bazaar was small, compact, crowded, just like any other suburban market in the east. At any point in the day, one could listen to the cries of the vendors, garment sellers, women bargaining for vegetables, kids running behind the white calf that would escape its compounds whenever it had a chance. As if it was a festival everyday, no time to stop, no time to reflect and none at all to see the impending changes brought by time.
The tea was mostly water, people complained knowing well that cream was an exorbitant commodity for all in Jaunpur. All the vexation however was directed to our innocent little chottu. Only 11 years old, chottu had some big responsibilities on his tiny shoulders. He was not one of the local. Hailing from a village some 100 kms away, chottu was the only child of his parents. His family was very poor, no surprise there! His father was a gambler and drunkard, while his mother used to work in the households of the neighbourhood, making barely enough to keep the body and soul of her family together. Physical abuse and fight was a common scene in his tiny little home there, and there was nothing he could do to help his poor mother. Sensing the need, his mother sent him to stay in Jaunpur with his maternal grandparents. They were old, humble and adored chottu.
It was a rainy Tuesday. chottu knew coz the temple was playing bajrangbali hymns. He did not like them, as he did not agree with blind faith in god. To say the least he was an atheist and miracles didn't exist in his dictionary but little did he know things were up for a change.
Running behind the chain of ration stores, chottu reached his most beloved customer, Ahmed mama. Ahmed jahan was old, he was a tailor most of his life, and a good one at that. He never understood why chottu would call him mama owing to the huge age difference, but nevertheless he loved him like his own. The childless old man had too much of love in his heart to ever scream at chottu mian. Smilling like an idiot chottu arrived, almost wet:
"yeh lo mama, aapki cha. daud kar aaya main, taaki thandi na ho jai"
Ahmed's face lit up, he said:
"bahut achaa kiye. sabaash! ye bata, jalebi khayega?"
The advent of readymade garments were hurting his business, yet, the old man never left any opportunity to make the child happy.
"haanji, baniye ne abhi abhi tali hai, aap bhi chalo, bahot bheed hai wahan"
Ahmed smiled and said:
"Aaj aap hi jao mian, eid aagayi hai, mujhe bada kaam hai, kapdo ka pahaar silna hai, kal bhi chai le aana, samjha!" and he handed over char aana from his wooden drawer. Chottu went.
On his way, chottu was thinking whether he should buy jalebis or betray his mama and get kachaudis this time when something striked his mind. There was a weird familiarity with the incident just happened. Chottu, being too preoccupied, debating jalebis against kachaudis decided to ignore.
What an amazing evening it was. chottu reached home, to his nani, and asked if nana has returned from Benaras. To his utter surprise nana had still not returned from the visit to his old friend. She served him dinner and he ate, beside her nani waiving the crooked hand fan at him, he felt proud, like a man of the house. The kerosene lamp let out thick soot making the night darker by each second. Time for bed...
To be contd...
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