Short stories - 1 - Hope

Miribai was tearful. And hakmaram was short of words. Today was the day that they had endured each year for the past 9 years. They both sat on the porch of their mud house in their far flung village kyara-ka-khet. The house was on the slope of the dry mountain and the only tree on the mountain supported their mud house. Hakmaram's eyes were focussed on the freshly pressed cow dung on the floor of their porch but he could feel the warm wind blowing from his maize fields below. Nothing grew in hakmaram's fields except maize. There was only one well in the village and hakma could not afford to purchase water from the owner. So he managed to grow and sell crooked maize stalks to the fleecing traders at padrada town some 15 miles away. It was always difficult to carry maize sacks to the town alone and on foot. So he had to engage his son dhule for the task. And thats what made him feel that he had failed his duty as a father. He wanted dhule to have a better life. Dhule was all of 9 years of age when he left for the big city to earn money.

Miri was very proud of dhule when he was just 3 years old. He was as beautiful as the morning sun. His hair had a color like the ripe stalks of maize and miri always held her son as a tropy. The village sarpanch (headman) Bhairoji had once said, "this boy will grow up to be a filimshtarr (filmstar)', and miri had jumped with joy at the conclusion the wisest man in the village had drawn for her son. That day on she knew that the only way her son would become filmstar was by going to the city. But as dhule grew up, she slowly began to dread the idea of dhule going away from her. "I will not send my son to some god forsaken city. The filimwallah people will have to come to our village if they want to cast my son in their fillim". And hakma always smiled at his wife's innocent care for her son. They were incredibly happy to have their son in life despite all the poverty. But as wise men used to say, time flies. And so a morning came when dhule was 9 years old and the village headman bhairoji came running up the mountain slope to their hut "Arre where are you Hakma!". Hakma emerged from the hut with dantoon (tree stalk used by rural indian men as toothbrush) in his mouth. "Arre what is the matter sapanch. Why are you huffing and puffing like an angry bull. You will scare my cows!". Saying this he bellowed with laughter at the joke he had cracked on the headman. Bhairoji ignored him and said between short breaths, "arre a truck has come from the city. They want to take people for work in the city. You remember what I had told you about hakma 5 years ago. Now is the time for him to go to city and become a filimshtarr!". Hearing this the blood drained from hakma's face. The prophecy that headman had made about dhule had completly skipped from his mind. Instantly he bagan to evaluate the decision without asking miri. It was painful for hakma to watch his young illiterate son working in the fields and grazing goats on the mountain. He always dreamed of dhule as a rich and beautiful person, unlike the rugged and ugly villagefolk. He heard te sound of miri's bangles and turned around to see miri's ashen face behind him. He realized that he had said yes to the headman. "How can you send our only son away? I will jump in the well if you let my dhule go the cursed city. City is bad and there are bad people and my dhule is only 12 and very young...." She had started sobbing loudly clutching her sari to her chest and leaning forward. Her tears were staining the dried dung and hakma felt an irritation. "You are very selfish, You want to keep your son only to yourself. I cannot have him working on the field. He is my boy and he will go to city to do what educated people do. I will not have him waste away in this rotten village."

The truck left in the afternoon with children of the village piled up in the back. Miri ran for few steps and then fell on the dusty road with tears splattered with dust. That was the day that become cursed for miri and hakma. They never saw their son again until today.

All that seemed like a dream now. Miribai always blamed hakma afterwards to have let the pearl of her eye go to the god forsaken city. It was 9 years now since dhule left for the city and they did not have any news of their son. They kept hearing from those who returned from city that dhule was now a rich man and owned a fleet of autorickshaws and lived in a house with 3 bedrooms. But they also complained that dhule never met them as if they were from some inferior race. Hearing this pride always swelled up in hakma's and miri's chest but along also came a longing to see their only son. Miri remembered when dhule was very young how hakma and dhule used to playfully run around the wooden platforms they used to dry maize stalks. Miri always chided hakma for dirtying the only dhoti (a piece of cloth worn by rural men in India) he had while playing with dhule. 'You catch dirt like a miner catches color in coal mine", she used to say playfully to hakma. But she always made sure hakma's dhoti was washed. She did not want the other villagers to think that she was not a good wife. Now she barely kept herself and hakma alive.

Both meeri and hakma were abosrbed in such memories when hakma heard the honk of the truck. The road was now a mud road intead of dirt road and trucks visited village more frequently bringing with them new traders and new items to trade. Hakma suddenly stood up and said to miri, "I am going to the city. I will meet dhule and ask him to come back to the village. He is 21 now and we will marry him to chini". He looked at miri and understood he would not have to say bye to his wife. She would also come along.

They squatted on one corner of the truck that was full of people. The truck jumped innumerable times on the rough road and miri clutched hakma tighter to maintain balance. It was midnight by the time truck took a plastered road. The truck was open from the top and when it approached the city, hakma's and miri's jaw dropped at the illumination and the play of lights that they could see from a distance. They had never imagined that city had so many lights. At night, you could see only 20 or 30 kerosene lamps in the village but the city was burning with light and heat.

The truck stopped near the fruit market amongst the commotion of traders selling and purchasing fruits and vegetable to retail for the day to come. Hakma and miri were in awe and like two children entering the circus for the first time, they gingerly made way towards the rickshaw stand where bhairoji told him they would meet shyam, a lad from the village. Nearing the stand, hakma asked a person dressed in the overalls of a bus driver about shyam and he pointed his finger towards a quiet corner where a single auto was parked. They approached cautiously and peered inside the auto to be greeted with stale smell of the burning tobacco weed. "What is it? I am resting. Go find another auto", bellowed a voice fro mthe darkness inside. Hakma cleared his throat and said, "shyamji, i am hakma, son of banda". An instant recognition swoop on the person sitting in the darkness and a welcomeing voice replaced the bellowing voice. "Aha, hakma! nice to see you. finally you have come! how are you bhabhi (sister-in-law)! please sit on my auto and tell me about kyara-ka-khet".

Hakma and miri were stupified by the urban splendeur. And they treated shyam as a doorway to the magical land where their son was present and successful. "We have come to find our son, dhule. You remember him? Bhairoji told us that dhule had come to you after alighting from the truck. We want to meet dhule. We heard he has become very successful". Miri took over from hakma cutting him short, "please shyamji, take us to our son and tell him that his parents have arrived".

"Hmmm... i remember dhule, a shy but beautiful boy. He wanted to go to the movie studio, where they shoot films. I took and dropped him there. I will also take you there. I am sure you will be able to find out about him. I head he runs a big business now. You are lucky!". So they zoomed off in the rickshaw. The city was even scarier from inside.and as hey entered deep into it, miri had a feeling she was being swallowed alive by a deamon. But he thought that she will finally meet her successful son after 9 years made all that fear bearable.

The reached the studio and shyam declined to take fare from them. He left and miri and hakma gingerly approached the menancing iron door that guarded the entrance of the studio. "Do you know dhule? he is our son. I think he operates rickshaw service here", hakma said half expeting the man behind the grill to take out the gun and shoot them. Instead, mercifully, the man made a gesture that they understood meant that he did not want them around. So they got out in front of the gate and squatted on the studio wall. They were feeling tired. Hakma looked around and saw a tea stall and thought probably the owner of the tea stall may know dhule. The owner looked old, neat and distnguised and he would definetly know their dhule now that dhule was a rich man. Hakma staggered to the stall and asked, "do you know dhule?". The owner looked at them with a dazed look as if he had heard that name before and was about to shake his head and suddenly remember something. "Who are you people?", he enquired. "we are dhules parents", there was pride in hakma's voice.

"You are talking about dhule who came here about ..err... 8-9 years back, are you?", asked the old man.
"Yes!", and there was excitement in hakma's voice.
"stay here", saying this the old man went inside.
Half expecting the old man to escort dhule from inside, hakma pressed some crease in his dhoti to look presentable. The old man came out with a bag that looked like dhule's bag. Miri shouted, "this is dhule's bag! where is he?".
the old man said, "Its about time you people came here. I sent so many letters to the address i found written on the notebook that dhule carried. Dhule wored here for two years and he used to deliver tea for my clients. He was killed 7 years ago by the motorcycle that was being driven by a drunkard. Here are his possessions."

~*~