The Runner – Part 2 – The End of the Road

Photo courtesy ~Samuel Sharpe~

The Beginning – Runner – Part 1

The cold night, the crawling rats, the blanket of dark sky dotted with twinkling stars, the hardness of the park bench, I did not have to close my eyes, I was living a nightmare. The days were spent scavenging and begging for food. The search for a job was futile. I thought of memsahib all the time. I was extremely hungry. I was angry all the time. I wanted nourishment. I also had a fever. Everytime I passed by the bakery I would look at the hot white loaf of bread, with light brown bottoms, staring at me with goggle-eyes. They looked scrumptious. They were kept on the counter, in the front of the bakery to attract people with money. My hunger and fever got the better of me. I could no longer withstand the charms of the processed wheat flour dough. I sneaked one loaf, I turned back with an awkward moment. A seasoned thief would have stolen the bread in one swift singular motion, like a hawk going after its prey. I being a rookie, commited the crime in a set of disjoint moments, which was spotted by the shop owner. I started running, but being hungry and sick did not help. I was caught and taken to the nearby police station.

The police station was quite large, I was taken to the head constable. He looked like a furious man. I did not have to steal a loaf of bread to make him furious. His face looked naturally furious. I was afraid, he gave me a look of disappointment. I was still looking at the roof over my head. It had been three weeks since I had a roof over my head. A snap of fingers by the head constable got me back to reality. Then the yelling started, it was piercing my ears like little pins of shreik. I could not run from this. Once the yelling subsided, I was sure I was going to be thrown in jail. The Head Constable said he was letting me go with a warning. I was overjoyed. After all the joy gushed out, I realised it was back to the hunger and scavenging. The happiness was so brief. I realised if I was in jail, I would have food, a place to stay, company. Alas! I had been freed with a warning. Before leaving Daroga Saheb (Head Constable) asked me for my address. I told him I was homeless, but I always go to the library in the daytime. Daroga Saheb kept looking at me through his telescopic glasses with twitchy eyes. I felt he had a condition with his eyes, but the twitching was intermittent.

I got out of the police station and back onto the streets. I was still hungry, I decided to beg at a traffic signal rather than bring forth the ire of Daroga Saheb. Those twitchy eyes, the frowny face still gave me the chills. I tried a couple of times to go to a studio and try my luck. They asked me to leave, thinking I am a beggar. When I persisted, they threatened to call the cops. A few days went by, my bollywood dream began dwindling. I was seeing “The End” before my movie began. I started thinking of going back to Memsahib, she would forgive me and take me back. I started begging and saving money to buy tickets to go home. I was returning to my palace. I was going to run from Bollywood.

The days went by I was getting good at begging. I knew the right times , the patterns , the kind of people who were willing to part with their money to help the unfortunate. I needed to beg for another week to be able to save money to buy my return tickets. I continued going to the library daily after the morning rush hour. The books helped me escape, I was able to float out of my current state and imagine being in a world created by the author. I was sitting with my book on a corner chair hidden from the view of people. I felt safe. The librarian was a good natured lady who liked me. She helped me pick my books, my adventures. She did not judge me by my appearance. I was glad. I hoped everyone in the world were as kind as her and memsahib. I was sitting in my chair lost in the fantasy world when suddenly I heard footsteps coming towards me. I assumed it must be the librarian, so I continued reading my book, the footsteps stopped in front of me, I raised my eyes a little, it was not the librarian. They were size 10 brown polished shoes, I was afraid to look, I had seen those shoes before, I had seen them at the police station. Those shoes belonged to the frowny faced, twitchy eyed Daroga Sahib. I tried recalling if I had done anything wrong. I immediately fell at his feet and started apologizing for any wrong I had commited. He asked me to stand up, looked at me, gave me a C-shaped smile and told me to calm down. If I had not done anything wrong why did the Daroga Sahib come to the library for. I was confused. He asked me to come out with him. I walked beside him. The library door opened, we were back into the day, the sun was shining hard. I saw a beautiful black Jaguar standing outside. Daroga Sahib pointed me towards the car and told me something that got me thinking of a million possibilities in a fraction of second. Our brain processes things so fast. An entire lifetime of imagination can be compressed into a snap of second, I could be living in a large palace, bathe in a sauna, star in my own movie, have a Bollywood Ending. The words that came out of Daroga Sahib’s mouth were “He’s your Father”. After the moment of extravagance, reality set in. An old man with furry grey brow, a sharp moustache, partially wrinkled forehead, white uniform and a white cap steps out of the Jaguar. He was my Dad. I forgot about Bollywood, I forgot about the palace, the sauna. A strange feeling of happiness gushed in, seemed like my run was complete. I was still clueless, but I rushed forward and hugged him, he did not mind my dirty clothes. He hugged me as if he did not want to let me go. There were tears rolling down his eyes. He kept apologizing, I said it was ok. I felt a sense of completeness.

My dad narrated to me the flashback. I was a naughty kid, my parents were travelling from Mumbai to our village, my parents were sleeping, when I got of the bus, the bus left and I was left stranded in an unknown place. My father kept coming to the police station everyday and showed Daroga Sahib my photo. I now realised why the Daroga Sahib kept twitching his eyes when he looked at me. This was better than a Bollywood ending. My run had finally stopped, I was home. I had reached the end of the Road. It was time to rest.

The End

The Runner – Part 1

Photo courtesy ~Hamed Saber~

The sun was beating down on the reddish brown footpath.. The little sand particles gleamed like little diamonds. They reminded me of those little bags of diamonds that were smuggled from one country to another in Bollywood movies. I have never seen a real diamond in my life but I like the way they look on TV.  I was brought back to reality by the motorcyclist behind me, he had somehow got on to the footpath. It was as if the big red bus had pushed him of the street.. I walked on and reached Iyengar’s bakery. I ordered the two eggs and a bread that memsahib had ordered. Memsahib belonged to a middle class family, she was a very nice person. I was staying at their place for ten years now. I broke out of my orphanage at 10, because life there was monotonous.. I ended up begging on the street. One day when memsahib was passing by, she stopped and took me in. I was asked if I would like to go back to the orphanage. I refused to go. She allowed me to stay at her place. She educated me. I helped her in her work. I was given a room. This is the first  time I had an entire room to myself.  I treated it like my palace.. I was extremely lucky. It was so much better than the orphanage, I had my own freedom, I wasn’t a pea in a pea-pod. I was an individual here. I used to sit outside my little room and watch TV..  I loved watching Hindi movies. They always ended on a happy note. I wanted to be happy.

I always had this feeling, I was born for greatness. I always wandered Bollywood would be my ultimate destination. I always felt safe when I watched Bollywood movies. I escaped into a world of ultimate happiness. The songs, the jokes, the huge mansions, the fancy cars and the make believe rich parents. Life was good. I totally forgot work, orphanage, street sounds for 2 and a half hours. I forgot me, I was the protagonist. Problems disappeared. I always suggested to Memsahib, I wanted to go to Mumbai. She always said it was a bad idea. Life is not as easy as they show it in Bollywood movies.

I was a runner, I wrote a letter thanking memsahib. I bid farewell to my palace, picked up my moneybox, shoved it into my bag and slowly sneaked out into the darkness of the night. Memsahib must have been disappointed, but a bird has to fly away from its nest when it learns to fly. She taught me to fly and I will always be grateful for that.

I caught a bus for Mumbai, I felt excited and sad. I felt like the day I ran from the orphanage ten years ago. This time I had a goal, I was going to work in Bollywood and life was going to be happy. I had done my research, I was a good dancer. I practiced acting in front of the mirror for the last five years. My only hindrance was I still looked like a kid. Memsahib had told me, I still looked like I did ten years back. I did not mind that. They could not say no to me. I was prepared. The bus journey was calm. The chitter chatter of the fellow passengers was like a chorus song. The sound of the rickety bus sounded like Shiva Mani’s drums. The car horns sounded like shehnai. Bollywood had beckoned.

The sun was still getting up. The sky was a mix of bluish grey portion of day and a dark grey portion of night, with a few stars, half a moon, half a sun.. The planetary bodies were still half asleep. Bollywood was wide awake. The roads were full. The people walked around with purpose. Nobody seemed to notice me, but that was short lived. I was going to be hunted for autographs. I was awakened by a rickshaw guy. I declined. I asked around and found a place to stay. I could afford the place for only two weeks. My next goal was to find a job.

I set off into battle into the hustle-bustle of Mumbai. It was like getting into a local bus in my hometown, a push here, a shove there, or you were left stranded alone in the lonely bus stand. Every job here had competition. I was stunted by my limited knowledge of Hindi and my baby face. People were not sure I was mature enough to handle responsibility. Buses came and went, I kept getting stranded. The magic of Bollywood was not working. It had been two weeks, there was no song sequence celebrating my success. My reserve money was spent, I was lonely, hungry and out on the streets. I wanted to run. I could not, I was getting pulled into the quicksand.

~~INTERMISSION~~

Jeffed

Photo courtesy -ξωαŋ ThΦt (slowly back…)-

The light seeped in and the darkness was getting covered by light.. The sun was peeking at me from between the mountains.. I shifted my head to take in more of what was happening.. My semicircular vision now encapsulated a meadow, where cows were grazing with chessboard robes. The other side had a lush strawberry fields.. I could slowly feel my feet coming alive and have a sudden urge to stand. My brain starts its engine, doing overtime to figure out, how i lay there at 180 degrees.. With a slightly damaged left jaw. I look around and walk towards my car, parked on the footpath. The keys are still in there. And then, the brain pumps a ton of blood, and it all comes back..

It all started the previous evening. I was sitting on my couch watching the sitcom “Coupling”, i was chuckling at Jeffs hilarious attempts to get a girlfriend, when the phone starting crying out for attention. I was miffed, to be interrupted.. I got up to give it some attention.. It was Virat, he had got this passes for a party thrown at Taika (A disc). He gave me the responsibility to call the entire group.. We were around 20 of us. We got there by 8.. Virat was waiting there with his GF. Everybody got in. We got a table to settle down and make some noise. We eased into the place and starting jiving.. The place was hot, Jeff(remember “Coupling”) would have stammered and stuttered like a rattle snake before being thrown out.. 🙂
Virat was dancing at the haunting trance music. I joined the dance floor after chomping into a piece of tandoori.. The DJ was cool. The crowd was hot. I needed to take a break from all the frivolous dance moves. So went to our table.. Virat’s GF seemed totally drunk. She looked at me, with a gaze so sharp, a chill ran down my spine. I knew where this was leading to. She started calling me Dangz (A pivotal person from our group).”Dangz, i love u”.. And smack.. The next second I looked like a criminal got red lipped.. I looked around.. Virat was looking right at me, with a stare, glaring through me. The night was literally over for me.. It was almost 5.. I asked Virat, I needed to talk to him. He asked Dangz to take care of his GF (Irony, the police asking the criminal to follow behind with the stolen jewelery) and follow us in his car.. I drive to the meadow on the way.. We get of, I try to soften the blow first. Before revealing the story of the ungrateful GF.. I turn around. The next scene can be described as, a big bag of rocks, comes from the corner of my eye.. Time stands still(Neo style).. Followed by darkness seeping into the light of the world..
Next day we all met up and blamed it all on the intoxications.. And I decided not to interfere into the tridimensional story.. I was Jeffed(Get into situations far out of ones control)..

Watchman Chacha

The gate closed with a clank. I looked at the back of the shiny coated Hyundai Santro. It looked nice. From the back of the vehicle, i could see a little head bob out. Then i saw a tiny hand wave at me. It was the kid from building number 3. The kids revered me. It was kind of phenomenon, that even educated people did not understand. Till the kids boarded the kindergarten bus they behaved differently. Once they got into the primary school bus, things were different. This kid boarded the kindergarten bus and to him I was Watchman Chacha. The superhero watchman who carried a pistol and who protects the little ones from bandits and ghosts (I never had a pistol, but they had an imagination, and i got caught up in it). I liked it. I had been a watchman for 25 years and little things like this kept me motivated. Everyone wants to be a superhero. I already was. My children had also climbed the primary bus, high school bus, college bus and finally the work bus. They were all happily settled. My partner, my heroine had passed away 2 years ago. To a deadly epidemic which doctors called a name I could not pronounce. I continued fighting crime alone, it was difficult, but i had to go on.. The children expected that from me.