Just One Rupee, Madam

Two tiny feet walked over the sand burning under the summer sun. The cold blue sea sitting beside the hot beach seemed like a tempting seductress, but Majnu and Shabu strolled on the dry beach, soaking the unbearable heat. A crowd of tourists had gathered at the southernmost tip of India, trying to feel the difference. For Majnu and Shabu it meant more money.

Majnu (equivalent of Romeo) had been renamed thus by his friends because he had madly fallen in love with a neighborhood girl when he was seven. That was three years ago. By the power of the name, the heartbreak had been transformed into a farce. Now, he could even joke about it.

Shabu had helped him enter the profession when he first came to the city after having run away from home. Now they both begged together, always.

“Give us a rupee in the name of God,” Majnu said in a mechanical piteous voice to a tourist couple. “Sister, one rupee. May you have a happy life together. Just one rupee.” He knew whom to coax.

“Get off,” said the woman, hardly giving Majnu the importance of a full glance. Had she made that mistake, he would have stuck to her like a leech.

“Sister, only one rupee. I haven’t eaten for two days,” persisted Shabu, who had joined in.

“Didn’t you hear? Get OFF!” barked the man viciously. Both Majnu and Shabu retreated a little. They knew they had lost them.

“How much did you make?” Majnu asked Shabu as a matter of fact.

“Thirty rupees (less than $1),” replied Shabu.

“I made thirty five,” he boasted.

“Bastard.” Shabu ran after him with a stick. They were laughing hysterically.

“I will beat up your behind with this,” screamed Shabu, waving the stick.

Majnu picked up an empty coke can. “Watch out. I will throw,” he warned.

Shabu hit the sand with the stick. That meant peace.

“Look!”

Foreigners! That was a treat. The positive force of their dollars acted like a magnet to the little beggars on the beach. Some came running from far off where they had gone in search of some lone lovebirds. They looked like little ants surrounding two huge juicy grapes, ready to take a chunk. The couple remained calm, but their frown and set faces showed that they had been in this situation before. They didn’t look at them.

“Sir, madam, five rupees. No food two days. Please,” Majnu made his voice even more piteous. His face remained unacted upon. Nobody ever looked.

“No money,” said the man politely, opening up his palms.

“Sir, ten rupees. Buy food,” Shabu pestered. He had made only thirty.

“Go away. Go away,” said the man, waving his hands. Still the tail remained. A bird looking from afar would have thought them all his children. They were following him so. After all, it is a matter of pride to be walking with foreigners, only the white ones. They walked with them till they got bored.

A great hollow sound as if of thunder mounted up the sky. Everybody turned to look at the sea. Suddenly human cries mix in it, making it more ominous. Majnu and Shabu stand paralyzed. A monstrous wave, 16 feet high was speeding towards the beach. It had already gulped down the whole sea and a part of the sky. The tiny families on the beach ran towards the land with death on their faces. Majnu and Shabu screamed and ran. They climbed up the resort wall and ran. The monster struck. It engulfed the beach in an instant and hit the trees with such ferocity that anybody seeing it from a distance would have felt the lash. It was no longer a wave now. It was a huge mass of water flowing at a tremendous speed. Nobody knew how many people or corpses were flowing with it. Weak cries of pain, of help were trying to find their savior. The water rolled steadily, picking up running men and women, some holding their children.

One kilometer inside the city, it was still rolling like an inexhaustible enemy. A man was hanging from the roof of a building. He was not crying for help. He was just hanging there, trying to hold on. Some people were clinging on to the bare trunks of trees, too frightened to call for help. Majnu had climbed a five-story building. He was safe on the terrace. He looked around for Shabu. All he saw was water, corpses, people crying for help. Shabu was not one of them.

Majnu jumped from the terrace. The cold water sent a shiver of pain down his spine. He popped up his head and looked around him. A man was clinging to a nearby tree. Majnu swam gracefully and reached the tree.

“Come down!” he screamed at the white man.

Too stunned to speak, he looked down at Majnu.

“Come down,” he gestured. Majnu had only learnt English to beg.

The white man slowly tried to move downwards. At last he managed to reach Majnu.

“Swimming know?” asks Majnu.

“No.”

Majnu put his hands around his thin black body and gestured him to hold on. He gave himself a push and started to swim back to the building. His face contorted with pain. The white man held onto him tightly. A little later he began to push the water away with his legs. They reached the building safely. Majnu held a pipe and put the white man’s hand on it. He pushed him up. As soon as the white man reached the balcony, he sat down on the floor, listless.

Majnu looked around again. Chipkali (Lizard) and Andha (Blind), in truth a squinted boy, his rag picker friends, were pulling a little girl to safety. Majnu started swimming again.

By the end of the day, Majnu had saved twenty people. Shabu was not one of them. The rescue people and the police were busy looking for survivors and corpses. They were stationed four kilometers away from the sea where the water hadn’t reached. Majnu stood beside an ambulance, waiting for Shabu’s corpse to be brought. The policeman who had been stationed at the beach to keep away the beggars walked towards Majnu.

“You are a brave boy. The white man told me that,” he said to Majnu, ruffling his hair.

“If you find Shabu, bring him to me. I know how to bury him.”

“If I find Shahbuddin, I will bring him to you,” the policeman promised. “Here, take this.” He extended a 50-rupee ($1.14) note towards him.

Majnu took it. He turned it over again and again. “Do you have change Saab?”

“How much do you want?”

“Twenty five. Twenty five”

“Here.”

Majnu took the notes carefully and went towards the water. He placed half the money on the water. The notes floated for a while, then got wet and drowned.

“I will buy a chocolate with my twenty-five,” he said to Shabu and walked back to look for a shop.


END