THE GIFTED

It was the month of April.

That time of the day when Lord Rama was born, the sun directly overhead, around noon. The scorching heat had roasted all living and non living things in that city.

So, it was no wonder that people flocked to that shopping mall to get a relief from SuryaNarayan.

Most of the benches were occupied. Some even resembled the local trains, where an additional passenger hung his bottom precariously on the last seat.

That old man sat at the edge of one such bench. Perhaps it was out of respect for him or perhaps it was his attire,  but no one was willing to sit immediately next to him.

A height which may be a few inches around 5 feet, his feet just reached the floor.

A skin so dark and tanned that it could not be bronzed any further , no matter how strong the sun shone, 

hands bearing callosities from years of manual toiling.

Anyone seeing his legs would see those varicose veins which stood out on his calves as they were exposed beneath a traditional blue red lungi.

His face was heavily wrinkled and when he opened his mouth one could see only a couple of front teeth which remained. He had a habit of intermittently licking his gums,  a trick he had realised which would  moisten his drying gums. His hair, the eyebrows and even his eyelashes were grey white. 

The only physical beauty one could appreciate was his smile, which extended from one ear to the other. 

However, his eyes never smiled. They peered around from beyond the dark rimmed,  large square glasses.

They saw nothing and no one could could see through them. 

Yet, he was gifted..

It was lunchtime, at least for those who could afford lunch.

Fatimaabi was awaiting her son's return from school, sat on a bench opposite him. 

It was their meeting point every school day. 

She couldn't go to school to pick him up, as her morning was spent  as a domestic worker at many homes.

She   couldn't take him back home as she worked at a Bangle factory in the afternoon.

She was clasping and unclasping her hands , a habit borne out of anxiety.

Those hands only moulded  bangles. But her wrists couldn't afford to wear any. Her frail frame turned towards the entry door as her eyes sought out her 9 year old darling.

"I pray to Allah that Salim is paying attention in his class. He does sit with his books till late night. I wonder whether all of that time is well spent. He should pass his exams, then i can breathe a sigh of relief. But next year he will be in senior school. Sunita tai was saying all students need extra tuition. I will do an extra shift in the factory on weekend. Sunita tai also needed help with her ailing mother in law. If I stay at hers in the evening to help her, that should fetch me a few extra thousand rupees.

Salim is getting taller day by day. Sunita tai's son's clothes also won't fit him anymore. His feet too outgrow his shoes every 6 months. 

I pray that he has passed his exams.."

The centre of her universe, her Salim,  could see his Amma in distance. Today, he was going to surprise her. 

"Amma won't know that I have taken the back entrance. I will sneak behind her and make her jump."

He mingled in the crowd and stood behind Amma. He wrapped his fingers over her eyes, who quickly held those little fingers in her hands, figuring out  that it was her Salim.

The boy thought that Amma would immediately ask about his exam results .

But Amma used her dupatta to wipe his face and dry his brow.

She took out his lunch box from her cloth pouch.

She then fed him his favourite aloo bhindi with roti. After every 4 or 5 mouthfuls she would offer him some water.

After 1 roti she asked gingerly, 

"Pariksha pass hua na re"? 

Her eyes were searching his, to look for any clues. 

He sat with his head hung down, gazing at his Amma's feet. 

The old man looked at Salim and at his Amma and his grin widened from ear to ear.

"Kaiku battisi dikhato re", she rasped at him. Her voice quivering , reflecting the anxiety of her son's result. But the old man bore the brunt of her anger.

" Do hi daat abhi baki hai, who bhi girenenge , 

maati melya! ".

Salim looked at the old man.

"Does this old man know my secret?, "Salim wondered within....

Did the old man wink at him??

The boy quietly took out his mark sheet and a letter and placed it in Amma's hands.

She knew that Salim was aware that she couldn't read.

The old man's smile was widening and Fatimaabi's trepidation was getting  worse.

And then the boys grin said it all.

He had stood first in his year and also won a scholarship award for his performance,  which meant his fees were waived and he was offered free extra tuition to explore his talent further.

Fatimaabi thanked her God as she helped Salim get across the street towards home.

She now had to go to the factory.

As she neared the exit, she hesitated and her feet turned back.

The old man was still sat where she had seen him last.

She took out her share of roti and bhaji and offered it to him.

Her hunger pangs somehow now settled and  her soul satisfied...

Every few minutes he would get up, look over the crowds and not having  set a sight of his daughter, he would sit down. He would look around,  check his watch and give a sigh in exasperation. 

"Why did she have to forget her phone at home. Of all the days, I had to work through lunch time today and now I won't be able to present my work at 3.

She's getting very callous"

His forehead far more wrinkled at the thought of his presentation. 

His gaze wandered around and settled on a girl Window- shopping outside a designer outlet.

His eyes followed her curves and traced all her movements. He was looking at her shapely legs, tracing her shape underneath her dress.

For a moment he forgot about his assignment.

Suddenly he could feel the stare of the old man sat across. 

Was he glaring at him? Or was he just blindly looking into space ?

Had he heard his inner thoughts? ?

He wondered. ...

He heard her, before he saw her. Shilpi's laughter was unashamed, loud and brash. He turned to see his apples eye. 

Soon his daughter would start her college life.

She looked cute in her denim shorts and stretched out T shirt.

He handed the phone to her and said a quick goodbye.

His eyes turned towards the designer outlet shop, but the girl was not to be seen.

His eyes picked up a couple of college boys who were walking quickly behind his daughter and following her.

One of them made a rude remark about her shorts. 

"Hey! Haven't you got sisters at home"!

He bellowed at them. 

The boys quickly dispersed into the crowd. 

He came back to pick his bag from the bench.

He couldn't help notice,  the old man was smiling across...

He wondered again..

" Hey, chal fut, baju hat"!, the short man barked at the college boys who were sat opposite the old man.

The boys vanished as cockroaches scramble away when the room light is switched on.

The man plonked himself down in the middle of the bench , spreading his legs wide and occupying  2 peoples spaces. His friend sat next to him.

He spread out his arms so that they rested on the back rest, as if to declare that he was the badshah and that bench was his throne.

Someone seeing him, would be astonished by the whiteness in his attire.

Wide bottom white trousers, white half shirt with the top 2 buttons undone, a white kerchief which was rolled inside the collar of his shirt and 'Jeetendra style' white shoes.

To top it all, he had spotless white teeth .

It was like a Nirma wash whitening.

Except for his complexion and his diction. 

Some thought that he had a dark inner being too...

The start of any of his sentence would begin with an abusive word.

" Ey bhosxxxx, jakey thanda laa!", he ordered his friend, who seemed to obey his wishes. 

He finished his cola in 3 gulps directly from the bottle and yelled again.

"" Woh madarxxxx, abhitak nahi aayaa. Phone lagaa saaleko"!

Very soon the person they had been waiting for, arrived.

People were getting curious now.

The arriving  person happened to be a tiny man who had borrowed money from him and not yet paid back.

The man in white thought,," Saleko sabak sikhaata hoon.  Aisa kaise kiya usne? "

The old man opposite smiled.

The man in white got up and slapped the tiny man across his cheeck. 

" Kayko beti ko ischool se nikaalabe?

Ye le,  bhosxxxx, fees bhar de.

Principal ko main sambhalungaa "!

He said pushing a wad of rupees bundle into his pocket.

The commotion drew a little crowd.

No one knew what was going on.

They had seen the man in white slapping  the tiny one.

And now the tiny one was bending down and holding the others feet.

No one dared raise their voice.

But they were angered by the behaviour and abusive language of the man in white.

Only the old man kept smiling.

Though his optic nerves didn't send any visual signals to his brain,

He had read how the man in white had been helping the other one through his troubles. 

How he was angered when the other one had withdrawn his daughter from school.

A little later, the  man in white saw a pregnant lady approaching that way.

" Ladies hai.  Apne bajume nahi baithegi ", he thought to himself. 

" Chal re, kutryaa!" , he yelped to his friends. "Dhandepe chal".

There was a collective sigh of relief from the people around.

There was no place for a sharp spiky thorn in their smooth, well defined society.

The old man's smile was a little lees broad when the man in white departed.

It was nearly 5 pm.

His 6 year old grand daughter came with his son came to pick him up.

She danced up to him and encircled her arms around his neck.

"Appa,  I am here. 

Nimmi wants to listen to a story..

Story,  story,  story!!!"

She insisted .

She gave him his Red and white stick with the bell on it.

" So, which story will Appa tell me today?", she couldn't wait till she got home.

Nimmi could only sleep when she was put to bed by Appa. Appa's story was a wonderful concoction mixed with his rich, slow but husky voice.

"Well there is this young boy who thought he could lie to his mum about his exams

And

There were these men who were thinking one way and acting the other", he replied. 

As Nimmi's eyelids were getting heavier, she could faintly hear the sound of  TV from the outside room.  

There was an  equally rich, slow and husky voice from the on screen idol..

"Yeh telephone bhi  ajeeb cheez hai --

Aadmi sochta kuch hai 

Bolta kuch hai aur 

Karta kuch hai"...

 Nimmi never wonderrd how Appa could read the boy's and the men's inner thoughts.

Even though her Appa was blind,

He had a special telephone in his mind which could hear everything. Even someone's silence..

For he was gifted...