Short Story #11: The forgotten man

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. 

Short Story #10: Magic

The whistles of the wind grew louder as I went down the stairs to platform number 8. Despite the unusual darkness, I could see the scarce trees swinging eerily. I wondered if the cyclone had hit the city already. I hoped I would reach home before it was too late. It was getting colder and the railway station looked lonelier that night, surprisingly. As I walked down the platform, I saw a big-framed man stare at me. I froze for a few seconds, frightened. He was almost naked and had long unkempt hair in dreadlocks. I hurried past him with long steps and stopped near an empty bench. I noticed an old lady stare at me. She was chewing something as she stood there with a bag and her eyes bore deep into mine. I could hear my heart thump faster and a bead of sweat appeared on my forehead. I could see a broad beam of light and a loud horn. The train was arriving! As I stepped in the front awaiting to board the train, the train sped past me in lightning speed without stopping and the horn was blaring loud. The horn kept growing unbearably louder and shriller and I closed my ears and shrieked.

WAKE UP IN THE MORNING FEELING LIKE P DIDDY

GRAB MY GLASSES, I'M OUT THE DOOR; I'M GONNA HIT THIS CITY

She woke up with a jolt to shut the alarm off. 5.30. Everyone had turned their heads towards her. She had her eyes watering and she didn’t want anyone to see that. She bent down to casually wipe the corner of her eyes. Even before she realized how embarrassing it was, she straightened up and pretended to listen to her colleague presenting.

OH MY GOD! “I can’t believe I dozed off again. And the alarm? Oh, no. No wonder, the alarm didn’t go off in the morning! I set it for 5.30pm instead of 5.30am? Not again, Shiya!”, she thought. She was doodling a beard and she just realized she had turned it into what looked like a play-swing when she had dozed off. “Tch. What a waste of time meetings could be!”, she thought, as she continued to draw a bandholz beard on the notebook.

After what felt like months, the meeting ended and she dashed out of the hall. She rushed down two flights of stairs and there he was! “Nihal!”, she exclaimed. 

She was surprised to see him there. Well, there he was, with a bouquet of flowers and beaming like a blushing teenager in love. He opened his arms and walked towards Shiya, and bent down on one knee. He kissed the flowers and offered it to her, smiling through words ‘Will-you-marry-me-Shiya?” and singing “I do I do now..I do I do..All I am, all I'll be…Everything in this world…All that I'll ever need…Is in your eyes shining at me”.

Shiya laughed, slightly turning red and looking around to make sure her colleagues weren’t watching this. She took the flowers from his hand, rolled her eyes and said, ‘Yes! Only if we had not married each other a year ago”. Nihal got up on his legs and hugged Shiya and whispered, “Aw, that’s bad. Happy Anniversary month, sweetheart!”. 

Shiya hugged him back and said “I thank my stars every day for making me such a lucky wife”. She held his hands and walked out of the office, still smiling over his romantic surprise. Nihal was always full of surprises. Shiya felt overwhelmed by his gestures, ever since the day it all began.

She remembers the day so fondly. December 1, 2014. Shiya sat there at Marine Drive, Mumbai, staring at the sea. As she munched on some sukha bhel, she watched the tides hit the tripods and rush back and forth. The sun was setting and she was happy looking around at the kids skating, old couples holding hands and walking, couples romantically watching the sea and whispering into each other’s ears, men and women jogging with the earphones plugged on. She sat there silently pondering over all that had happened. A failed and abusive marriage of 7 months followed by an immediate miscarriage. It had all happened too quickly that she needed to take some time to accept everything. Being an optimist that she is, nothing could hamper her love for life or dampen her spirits. She looked forward to life as she always did.

She looked up at the sky, lost in thoughts. Suddenly she heard the screech of cars and turned around to see two cars brake just few inches away from a man and a dog.

“Zorro!”, screamed a teenage boy as he ran towards the greyish white dog, a husky mix breed, and pulled him by his leash. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you”, he told the man who saved Zorro and walked him away from the road, on to the pavement.

The man, now she noticed had a big beard and rough hair, limped back, panting slightly and sat down, examining his ankle. As he sat down, she read what was written on his T-shirt: Sometimes all you need is to talk to someone. I’m a shoulder-tap away. As he bent down to check on his ankle, she peered and read the name ‘Nihal K’ at the back of his T-shirt. Nihal K. The name struck a chord somewhere, but she was unable to remember anything more.

“Madam, kulfi?” She was startled by this sudden voice to her other side. “Nahi, Bhaiyya”, she said, as she politely refused to the guy selling kulfis. The beard man turned towards her and that’s when she saw his face clearly. Familiar and yet it wasn’t. She noticed him stare at her for a few seconds more. “Shiya?”, he asked.

Surprised, she smiled, ‘Yeah?’.

“Weren’t you my classmate back in school, 7^th grade?’, he asked.

‘Oh, Nihaaaaal! The fat guy from last ben-..sorry, I mean“, she bit her tongue apologetically. Of course, she remembered Nihal. She remembers the guy who had no surname, but initial K.

“Ha ha..yes, that’s pretty accurate..I was fat..ha.. that was 15 freaking years ago!”, he said, laughing.

“So, long time! How have you been? What are you up to, these days?”, she asked, curious about him.

“Hmm, I teach. I travel. Well, both, to be precise. I travel wherever I feel like, I teach kids there. Uh, not formal education at school. But I teach them, just anywhere”, he replied.

“Wow, that’s interesting!’, she exclaimed.

“Yes, it is.. ah, if you don’t mind, I have got to go now.. I’m meeting some kids at Girgaon now.. Let’s connect, please take down my number.. I’m just a mess-“, he said, as he stood up.

“A shoulder-tap away?”, she said in an amused tone.

“Ha ha.. That’s right. That started right here at Marine Drive. I met someone who was about to end his life by jumping from here. I talked to him for a few hours and the talk changed his mind. I am glad he was convinced that nothing was worth taking his life. I have been talking to random people here and in places where I travel around. I realized that sometimes, people just need someone to listen. When people put up sad posts on social media and seem depressed, I randomly message them like –Hey, how are you? I know we haven't connected in ages. I just saw your post. Take care. Sometimes all you may need is to talk to someone. Remember I am a msg away!..”, he said.

“Hmm, hmm?”, she said, with a keen look in her eyes.

“..And it works sometimes. Some people think I’m creepy or maybe that I’m hitting on them, ha ha..but yeah, some people choose to open up and yeah, it helps them”, he replied, casually putting his hands inside his pockets.

“That is so sweet, very sweet”, she said. She couldn’t help but notice his radiating smile. A very kind smile.

“Thank you, madame”, he said, bowing jovially, “I’m late. I will see you around sometime. Bye, Shiya”, and there he was, jogging away with a slight limp.

A beautiful companionship began that evening.

Love followed. Her life had turned unexpectedly magical.

On 20^th, January 2016, they got married in a small low-key wedding ceremony. The next one year, they had traveled to as many places in the country possible. Nostalgic nights of star gazing at Marine Drive, evenings spent hanging around with kids in the slums, movie marathons on weekends, too many surprises every now and then, their bonding grew stronger and Shiya never looked back to the times she has spent trying to become a stronger woman. She had never been happier in love. He was a kind angel. To her and to everyone.

She smiled as she thought how much she loved him, as they walked back home, hands held. She pulled him closer, leaned on his shoulders and whispered, “Thank you for gate-crashing into my life”. He laughed and puller her closer and said, "I'm glad I did".

Magic happens. To anyone. Anytime.