Chintu ran as
fast as he could, sweat pouring down his shirt like tributaries joining the
rivers, his breadth fast and uneven. He had only 5 minutes to make it to the
theater. He would not miss the movie for his life. He had been saving for
months, helping Jaggu polish shoes by the roadside after the morning school.
His school shirt was soaked to the skin, the heat draining all his energy. Yet
he ran, and finally made it to the theater just a minute before the show was
due. After he had bought the ticket, he hurried inside. He could already hear
the blare of music from within. Chintu sat down , whistles and whoops followed
the grand entry of the actor. A broad smile lit his face, finally he would see
it. The movie he had been dreaming about for weeks. Finally.
_____________________________________________
Chintu
entered the ‘basti’. Scores of pretty little houses done in vivid shades of
pink, green, blue n yellow lined the two sides of the road; nearly naked brown
kids with beautiful soulful eyes ran about playing while the women sat in
groups talking and working at the same time. A constant lively buzz emanated
from the ‘basti’ while the old smoked beeri and sat looking lost amidst the
incessant bustle. Chintu walked on, lost in the daring adventures of the hero
and scheming images in his mind where an older version of himself fought the
villains with almost surprising strength n valour. So when he saw the other
kids push a little girl away from them amidst loud mockeries n jeering, he was
almost beside himself with rage. It was his turn to prove his bravery and live
up to the bold antics of the hero he worshipped. He walked up to the kids
looking all worldly wise and serious and asked them, his voice quivering
slightly, ’Is this the way to behave with girls? Do you have no sense of honour
and respect? ’.
The kids in
question all looked at each other in surprise. Chintu was one of them and it
was almost betrayal on his end to stand up for the girl from the newly founded
complex nearby. The huge building recently erected beside the ‘basti’ housed
innumerable apartments that were almost nearly empty. The little girl had
haunted the confines of the basti almost since the day she had seen the kids
running and playing about oblivious to the loneliness that she suffered in that
huge apartment all day. However, she had been unprepared for the haughty
disdain and scorn that the children had meted out to her; it had taken her
little time to grasp that she was not one of them. Yet her heart was no longer
willing to stay holed up inside the walls erected around her life. So she
looked with almost joyous eyes at Chintu when he stood up for her and it did
strange things to him. He had nevertheless more pressing issues at hand and it
would not do to dwell on her happy face.
‘She is not
one of us Chintu. How can you stand up for her?’, said Jaggu the young cobbler.
‘Who are you
to decide that? All she wants is a chance to know us and play with us. Or do
you want to take the issue to Amu?’, replied Chintu. Amu was the oldest and
wisest man in the basti. All matters of relevance were taken to him and he was
equally feared and respected by all. His blind grey eyes almost immediately
struck terror in the hearts of the kids and they tended to avoid the porch he
sat reclining in all day. However now it was a matter of utmost importance and
they had no doubt that Amu would stand up for the girl.
‘We are old
enough to make our own decisions Chintu. I see no point in taking matters to
Amu’, said Jaggu.
Chintu was
adamant. ’We either take the matter to Amu or we let her play with us. I can
see how old enough you are to take nasty decisions.’ Jaggu’s face flamed and it
was with all his might he controlled the fury waging within him. Yet he knew he
was defeated and it would not do to lose the favour of his friend over petty
issues like this girl.
‘Fine, she
may join us. But am warning you she is not one of us. You will see one day.
Come on Chintu, drop that bag and join us. Whats your name?’, asked Jaggu to
the girl.
‘Tamina, but
you all can call me Tamu’, she replied shyly.
‘Tamu here’s
the rules. The game's called -------. We hope you are good enough’, said one of
the kids scathingly.
___________________________________________________
Tamu’s life
slowly became livelier and the kids, in their innocence, were too merry to
grudge their playmate. In the afternoons they all gathered after school to play
their favourite games and their loud shouts and noise filled the area and
almost added a joyous tilt to their struggling lives. Tamu and Chintu were
inseperable. It was almost as if his standing up for her in her loneliest hours had forged an invisible thread of
bonding between the two. Tamu would often spend entire afternoons at the basti,
while her parents were more than glad to see that she was no longer sitting
musing and trying to accustom herself to the new life they had had to thrust on
her. On Chintu’s tenth birthday she got him a big ball that had Chintu almost
screaming for joy while he gifted her a doll made out of stones on her eighth
birthday that took pride of place in her shelf.
Yet fate has a way of refusing to run to plan,
shattering all in its wake to destroy stagnancy and crush innumerable hearts
along the way. So when the owner of the land sold off the basti to some
promoter, mayhem struck the lives of these people. The pretty colourful houses were
bull dozed to the grounds and it advanced on the basti like a huge predator
consuming all in its wake. It’s like their lives changed in a matter of
seconds. Chintu’s family moved off to some other slum and his father was forced
to stop his education. He took on the
job of working at stalls and later, at the age of fifteen, took on the
responsibility of riding a rickshaw, helping his father run the family on their
meager incomes. Sometimes when he would cross the cinemas, he would see posters
of his hero flaunting his dashing looks and smiling like he had no care in the
world and think back to those days at the basti when life had been so much
simpler and beautiful. Now he no longer visited the cinemas, saving money to
survive that had become increasingly difficult after they had lost everything.
He toiled day after day and often hoped he would encounter Tamu someday. The
joy that would lit her eyes on finding her old friend and the smile that would
brighten her young face would be more than enough for him.
So as he sat
outside the college gates watching the innumerable students trickling out,
hoping to find customers, he was almost prepared to wrangle the best bargain
out of the female calling him as he turned around saying ‘Bhaiya, how much will
it cost to Chowrasta?’. And as the long awaited joy lit his face, there was no
sign of recognition on her’s.
