It was just getting harder and harder to ride. He wanted
some rest.
He stopped to stand under a tree, the only tree in that
street, for some shade. He bent down to check the tyres. Flat.
“Punctured, again! That’s the second time this week”, he mumbled.
He took out a white handkerchief from his pocket and gently
wiped the beads of sweat running down his face. He took out his glasses, wiped
his forehead and looked up at the sky. ‘No clouds, the temperature is not
coming down anytime soon”, he thought, and reluctantly walked his cycle at 41
degree celsius.
He walked for about 2 kilometres before he found a small cycle
repair shop by the slum. He asked the tyre to be changed and went aside to wash his face with some water.
‘Aaah”, he exclaimed,
as he sat down, on the cemented steps of the nearby shop, holding his knees.
“Getting old, uncle?’, asked boy, with a smile, as he worked
on the flat tyre.
‘Ha, yes. I am getting old. Things aren’t like before, are
they?’, he said, with a half-smile, as he took out a small transistor radio and
set it up next to him, playing All India Radio channel.
He opened his lunch box. Three rotis and bhindi sabzi. His favourite bhindi.
‘Rim jhim gire sawan..’ his little radio played.‘Sulag sulag
jaaa..ye mann’, the old man sang along. He slowly munched on his rotis, humming
the song every now and then, when a dog approached him, wagging its tail.
“Oh, boy, eat this’, he said to the dog, placing a few
pieces of his roti next to him on the steps. The dog ate them up hurriedly and
looked at the man, still wagging its tail. He patted on the dog’s head and
packed his empty lunch box and small radio back in his cloth bag.
“Your cycle is as good as new now, uncle’, the boy happily
exclaimed, dusting his clothes with his greasy hands. “That will be ten rupees,
uncle”
“Oh, thank you.. Ten? Only ten? Are you sure?”, taking out a
few notes of ten rupees and some coins from his shirt pocket.
“Yes, ten rupees only..but come here to my shop the next
time your cycle tyre is burst, deal?’, the boy smiled and winked, as the old
man handed over a ten-rupee note to him.
“I will get going then”, the old man waved and cycled off.
Over the next few hours, he visited about thirty locked
houses and many high-rise apartments where he deposited the letters at the
security desks.
After a long exhausting day, he cycled back towards home.
The sun was setting and he stopped at the stationery shop close to his home.
“Uncle, looks like you are a little late today. So, what are
you getting for your grandchildren today?, the shopkeeper asked, packing a few
notebooks for a small boy standing against the counter.
“Umm, may be a sketch-pen set”, replied the old man, smiling.
The shopkeeper showed him a few sets of colour pens and the old man beamed as
he selected one.
The old man, on reaching home, parked his cycle outside and
carefully locked it with a chain and a mini-lock.
When he entered home, his 8-year old grandson and 7-year old
granddaughter ran towards him with arms open. ‘Dada..’, they screamed excitedly
as he hugged them.
He showered and then sat with them for an early dinner. As
his daughter-in-law served them food, he talked to the children about their
school and friends. He listened to them talk, keenly, as he relished the dal
chawal.
‘Dada, do you have friends too?’, asked his granddaughter.
‘Hmm. I had many friends. Many many years back, when I used
to go around the city delivering letters, I had so many friends who were like
family. They used to wait for me to bring them news. When it was good news,
they gave me sweets to eat. They always offered me water or buttermilk during
summer. They used to gift me for diwali. For those who couldn’t read, I sat at
their house reading them their letters. I knew so many of them, I knew them all
well’, he paused.
‘But now, everyone is busy. Times have changed. I deliver
only a very few letters, which nobody is anyway waiting to read, ha ha’, he
gave a nostalgic sigh, ‘but wait, dear, I do have friends.. a small boy who
makes my cycle shine bright, the man at the shop where I get you gifts, see, I
have friends?, he smiled.
As he went to bed that night, he remembered many fond
memories from a few decades ago. He felt lucky to have such great memories
associated with his job. The job, he knew he loved no matter what.
