Not all have a wonderful past, a bright future and a vibrant present! My thoughts wandered to and fro.
A boy on the verge of teenage, walking miles, hairs ruffled with extra oil, hands protruding out of torn button less shirt, shorts without any zip and legs without any slippers, carrying a slate and few pieces of chalk in his hand, looked tensed. He was already late for the class. Fighting with his destiny, his own family, against the society, he had one thing in his cortex, Money. He had seen much at a small age.
From a playful boy who had servants all around him to selling coal pieces in the evening to earn a few coins so that he could continue with his high school, from being a powerful family in the village employing others to working in others fields for a meal on weekends, life was a mixed bag for this kid. With focused eyes, and long strides he made his way through the fields challenging the sun and the loo. After some 40 minutes afternoon walk which wasn’t doing any good to his health, he reached a small hut in between few trees. He could breathe easy now but was late. The headmaster blabbered few slangs to each one of them as he called out the names for attendance, stopped for a while, looked at the boy and said-“call your bapu tomorrow, tell him, I’ve to talk to him!” Mid day meals was something that no one thought of at that time, there laid a hand pump which seldom provided water to the thirsty. It was tough ask for everyone.
Next day the headmaster and the boy’s father had a long conversation.
“Why don’t you take him to the city, he is the brightest student, and has a zeal to learn?”
“Sarkar, we don’t want him to study, who will take care of the farming?” He is the elder son, and my heath is also an issue. We can’t afford to spend an extra penny. He wanted to learn, we sent him to you, we could do nothing more.”
And it took lot of praise and assuring words from the head master before his father was convinced. And the kid now had a future. He could dream now.
“What are you upto Dev? Have your breakfast.” A voice interrupted. I woke up as if from a slumber and with lazy steps moved to the dining table. Life was so different now, and a well deserved life. Although the honesty inside me had died long ago when I took my first bribe for improper construction work in the local area, but it was for my family. The government salary was little too less to afford the house chores, my daughter’s demands and my wife’s leisure. My principals were thrown out of the house the day my wife entered the two bedroom flat with all modern facilities. I don’t blame her; she had a rich father and a caring mother.
I quietly sat on the chair and ate up what was before me. And my wife kept on throwing her demands for a maid servant, a new sofa set and some wood work that would make me sad and other neighbours jealous. My wife was 3 years younger to me, but she held key to everything. I was just another wood work in my own lavish house, although many claimed that I had a perfect family, with a beautiful wife and a lovely daughter. But alas! I moved out of the dining room and looked out of the balcony, very few had the luxury of a balcony, but this luxury gave a distressed sight of slum. It turned me off, I went to the living room but television these days were filled with unrealistic shows. I was wasting my Sunday, although this wasn’t new but the feeling was more prominent today.
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