‘I really need to get it done today. Can you please help me out? I will wait back tomorrow to make up for today if you want. But I have to go now. I have to leave. Please yaar…’
I looked at my lab partner and the look of utter determination on her face – determination of non-cooperation. I took one look at her face – and I couldn’t look any more; for I am not a good liar, and I somehow didn’t want to get caught that day. All I needed was some quiet. I wanted to be alone. There was no pressing family matter that I had to attend to – it was my own pressing need of wanting to be home that mattered more to me that day; more than anything else in the world.
I don’t like being weak. And I absolutely don’t like begging or pleading people for anything. I don’t like to ask for help, but this has got nothing to do with me wanting to put up an image of me. It’s just the way I am. I’d rather be on the other side of the table and help people out than ask them for help.
But a lot of things happen in life for the first time. And I was only beginning to discover what all that included.
My lab partner miraculously fell for my lie – or at least showed like she had; for she agreed to cover up for me that day and do some of my lab work. And that to in exchange of nothing. I guess she sensed something amiss. I picked up my books and packed my bag and left before she changed her mind.
To hell with the project and the thesis and my guide and my lab partner and college and everything in life.
To hell with catering to people’s needs.
Today, it was my turn.
I switched my phone off as I climbed down the stairs. Mom was not going to be home either today. And dad was going to come back late. So I had the whole house to me. And I wanted to make everything of it. Didn’t want to attend to or talk to or be disturbed by anything. Today it was going to be just me.
I decided to pick up Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup on my way home and make myself hot chocolate and enjoy the rains, cuddled up on my bed under a big quilt, looking outside my window.
But I was restless. Yes something was definitely amiss.
I tried to put the feeling away and sought after getting home as early as I could. But as fate would have it, one of the loneliest streets in the city was exceptionally busy that day, and I was soon caught in a massive traffic jam. Quite reluctantly I switched my phone on again and played some music. Soon the mood of the song got me and I began to nod my head ever so slightly to the beat of the song. I observed the people around stuck in the traffic jam with me. A guy on the bike next to me tried to strike up a conversation.
‘Music lover, eh?’ he asked.
I just smiled.
He looked away. And suddenly at the exact same moment we had both spotted two street kids – one boy and one girl – sitting under the fly-over, and the kids had looked at us. They started talking among themselves. The guy turned to me again.
‘I bet they are going to be here in no time,’ he said to me – like that wasn’t the most obvious thing at that moment. But the kids surprised us. The boy quickly got up and came running to us from in between all the vehicles. The girl stayed put where she was.
The small kid somehow skipped me and chose my ‘friend’. The guy first denied to give him anything, but then pulled out a one rupee coin and placed it in the boy’s hand. The kid happily bounced off to join his mate under the fly-over. He held up the coin for his friend to see and teased her. She looked at him for a moment and then turned away. I looked at the guy next to me.
‘I can never beg anyone for anything,’ he said.
‘Neither can I,’ I spoke my first words to this stranger. ‘But just imagine a way of life like that.’
We both turned to look at the kids again. The boy had procured a handful of peanuts out of what he had just received. The girl with him looked at him – but there was no longing on her face. She just looked at him as if to observe him. Or just about as casually as we were both looking at them. She then turned to look straight at me – a pair of eyes looking straight into another pair of eyes. Somewhere I had connected with this girl. I could see a part of me in her, and I guess she sensed it too. We both just kept looking at each other for a long time, as if we were only looking at our own reflections in the mirror. Begging was not a way of life for both of us – though the connotations and implied meaning of the word maybe very different in each of our lives – and it would never ever be; we wouldn’t let it ever be. Even in our lowest low, we would rather die than beg.
I let my lips curve up in a very small smile. But the girl didn’t return the gesture. She didn’t need any stranger’s sympathy or friendship. She didn’t need to smile back at me just because I was rich and might take a liking to her and give her some money or nicer clothes to wear or something to eat. She was cordial, in the least; for there was no animosity on that sweet little face with its child-like features and mismatched grown-up eyes. But there was no sign of amity either. And yet, that little face under the fly-over was not blank or devoid of expressions.
I went home and spent that entire day with the memory of that face in my head. Somehow in those few moments I had connected with that girl to such a depth as was unimaginable. Next day was a Sunday, so I didn’t have to go to my project place. But I still went to that road under the fly-over – just to catch a glimpse of that face again. And there she was, right where I had seen her yesterday. Only the boy was missing. I went and stood under the fly-over, a little distance from her.
‘Ikade ye,’ I said. (Come here.)
She got up and walked up to me. Only then did I realise there was blood stain on her torn frock.
I looked at it and asked – ‘Kay jhala?’ (What happened?)
‘Munna ala hota, gheun jayala.’ (Munna had come to take me away.)
‘Mag?’ I asked (So what happened?)
She quietly walked back to where she had been sitting and pulled out an iron rod from under a few gunny bags and showed it to me. I looked at it, and looked back at the girl. There was no sign of remorse or regret on her face.
‘Kaam dein. Paise pan. Khana, pina sagle. Shalet pan jayala milel. Yetes?’ (I will give you work, food and money. You will even go to school. Will you come along?)
She nodded.
I took the girl home. All the way back there was a battle of two voices in my head. On the one hand I was feeling guilty about making a small girl work. I strongly object child labour. But on the other hand, I knew this girl wouldn’t come with me if I didn’t give her anything to do. She was not one to accept favours. And I didn’t want to leave her on the streets, to the mercy of more Munna’s.
I opened the door to my house. Mother was standing near the phone. She saw me and put the phone down.
‘Kuthe geli hotis sakal-sakali? Sangun jayachi paddhat?’ (Where had you gone so early in the morning? Couldn’t you tell me?) She then saw the little girl behind me, and her expressions changed. I turned to the girl.
‘Naav kay tujha?’ (Whats your name?)
‘Sangi.’
‘Avadta tula?’ (Do you like it?)
She nodded ‘no’.
‘Kuthla naav avadta tula?’ (Which name do you like?)
‘Madhuri.’
‘Thike. Chal, anghol karun ghe.’ (Ok. Go and have a bath now.)
She walked away into my room. I told Mom about her. She was glad I had got her home.
I went inside the room and took out an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts from when I was a kid and gave it to her to wear.
‘Udya jaun tula navin kapde gheu.’ (Let’s get you some new clothes tomorrow.)
I smiled at the girl, and I knew she was going to smile back at me; for that was her way of expressing gratitude, she would do no more than that. She was never going to hug me, or touch my feet, or sing false praises to me of how good I was, and God bless me for helping her and all. But she had accepted to come into my home in exchange of work and a better life. And I was glad she had.
The girl smiled back at me. And I knew I had got that younger sister I had always wanted.
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