I
was one of the very few people in the station. I was waiting for my usual. It is the last fast train to
my home. As I boarded the train, I was hoping that someone I knew would
be in the coach. Though it’s comfortable to travel in a coach that’s free, it’d
feel eerily empty to travel at that time of night.
The
train had picked up pace.
Work
was pretty hectic for the entire month. I barely got time to take my eyes off
my monitor, and was totally exhausted. So I had totally forgotten about my
niece’ request until she called. “Uncle have you submitted for the contest?”
“I
am on it” I lied
“Don’t
forget na… Tonight is the deadline” she said and bade goodnight
There
was a selfie contest conducted by my mobile phone manufacturer. You have to
submit a selfie with your childhood friend and write about your experience. It
was a good marketing ploy, nothing connects with your customer base like
nostalgia.
Unfortunately,
there was no familiar face in the train that day, except this shabby looking,
unshaven guy who lives in a development area couple of blocks away from my
home.
I
used to know him during school days when we used to play ‘bet’ matches with his
gang. Our teams were even match in terms of win percentage, though in terms of
finesse, I felt we were far better. They were known to be ruffians, and even
our ‘umpire’ used to scare his decisions in their favour when they raise their
voice.
The
guys called themselves ‘Super stars’. And they moved like wolf packs. We called
ourselves ‘Chota Bheems’, and this was even before the cartoon was
conceptualised. The day my niece introduced me to the cartoon, I called my
friend ‘Gopi’ to reminisce about the good old days. We rarely get to meet each
other nowadays. The guys have moved to different parts of the world.
Wonder
what the ‘Super stars’ are doing nowadays. I have seen one of them drive an Ola
cab a few weeks back. Heard their team captain ran for ward councillor, rather
unsuccessfully. The difference between the localities still remain.
The
uniform of the guy in the train resembled one of those automobile assemblies. I
tried to remember his name…. ‘Ramesh’ I guessed. I have seen him a couple of
times during my morning walks, but never got to actually interact with him.
“Hi,
You are Ramesh, right? Remember we used to play against each other during
school days?” I broke the ice
“Errr…
Oh…. Ahh… Yes….I remember you as the wicket keeper batsman, but sorry I don’t
remember your name” he said in a tone somewhere between sincere apology and
complete detachment. I was glad he remembered my keeping skills
After
some pleasantries and introduction, I explained him about the contest and asked
him for a selfie. He agreed with an awkward smile trying to hide his discomfort
/ disbelief. I thanked him profusely, and got a weak smile as response from
him. Not a person of words I guessed. But he was smiling throughout the journey
-----x----
I
used to bump into him occasionally during our subsequent train journeys. Unlike
us, most of his friends were still living nearby. He had done his diploma and
had recently joined for a part time course. Unlike me, he had leftist view on
most of the things, yet was articulate enough to communicate his views clearly.
And this perspective did help me solve a couple of labour issues at work.
“We
used to call you ‘Mongia’ after the Indian wicket keeper. I never knew your
real name” he told me during one of these interactions.
When
I mentioned about our fear for their team, he guffawed, “We are not ruffians.
We tried to look menacing, so that we could get some moral advantage”
“We
were like West Indies, you were like England” he mocked our ‘very’ conservative
style
And
he added on a serious note “But we did feel you guys looked down upon us. A
couple of guys turned rogue because they were treated that way. You’d feel it’s
better to be feared than be pitied” I realised he was speaking about the entire
society and not just the ‘Chota Bheems’
----x----
A
few days later he came with a box of sweet. “I got promoted” he was all smiles.
It was a similar late night journey.
I
told him that our selfie won a gaming console for my niece. They are planning
an ‘ad’ based on it. I wholeheartedly thanked him.
“Sir... no need of ‘Thanks’” he dismissed
“My
niece would love to meet and thank you.” I insisted
There
was a pause as if he was thinking what to say. “Remember the first day we met
on the train.” He started. “I was on an all-time low that time. I couldn’t pay
for my kid’s school fees on time. Couldn’t get them anything beyond basic
necessity. This, after spending unduly hours at work, and doing whatever I
thought I was capable of. My family did understand my inability. But I didn’t.
Everything in life felt unfair” I was trying to fathom what he was telling.
“Your
friendly gesture that day changed something in me. I started connecting with
people around me. I started connecting back with my old friends. Didn’t realise
we were living practically next door. I opened up to my family. I have learnt
to seek and receive help” His voice broke, but he continued
“I joined for graduation recently. My
financial status has improved only moderately. Family life, a tad better. But am
lot happier and much more in peace with myself. I think I should thank you for
this change in me” He was speaking from deep felt gratitude.
I
was speechless…. And I was thinking he was not good with words. I still couldn’t
fathom such a simple act would have so much impact on someone.
It
looked like he was about to hug me but decided against it. But I felt the hug
He
made me realise that the best help you do is not monetary
It
was my turn to keep smiling the entire journey
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