Having seen his daily pocket money slashed, Raju was getting frustrated. His daily amount was so dear to him and his trophy. Not even his type of mornings, the autumn ones after a night of continuous downpour force the chirpy birds out of their slumber, carrying that fragrance of nascent rain wetting the parched earth and clouds attired with cool breeze trivialising scorching sun not more than a week ago, could cheer him. His pride had no limits when he got his first cricket bat, with all the money he successfully saved. And the first shot he played in it felt like heaven. He would do anything to have that feeling again, the feeling of complete satisfaction with a boundless satisfaction that mutes all thoughts and keeps one floating in a heaven. But with the penny pinching beginning from his parents, his small dream and the elation surrounding it was beginning to disappear and this was making his pleasurable 20 minute walk to school dreary. His enthusiasm to proceed further simply sprouted from the unbearable consequences, absence from the class would bring. Definitely not the right kind of motivation to do something.
As he meandered along, he saw a photo of mahatma ghandhi laughing at him. Its was no sarcastic smile, but an earnest smile coming out of a 100 rs note. Raju kept staring at the smile and did not know what was to be done. The note, quite drenched from the night's downpour was lying in the plain-sight. Quick glances to either side of the road assured him that there was no other human in the vicinity. He casually bent down with a thumping heart which was acting like a caveat, and a nonchalant exterior turning deaf to the inner doomsday predictor, picking it up. He folded the wet note in this hand kerchief and placed it in between the largest book he could find in his bag and hoped all the water would be soaked off by the time he would leave the school in the evening. All he had to do was to wait for the next 8 hours listening to his gabby teachers and cantankerous class mates.
He could not concentrate to anything going on in the class. Even teacher asking him to stand outside for not dong the homework could not distract him from running and rerunning the possibilities his 100 rupee note would bring. This brain was working overtime to optimize the route he would take after the school and he had started faking his stomach ache, while regularly checking the degree of wetness of the folded note. And right in time for the last PT (playing time) period, his fake stomach ache was severe enough for him to be excused for, and leave for home early!! He was lucky that the no body from the school offered to take him home. He quickly packed his bags and set out for the market pacing slowly to begin with and then hitting a top speed an Olympian would be proud of.
Ice cream, cricket stumps, Sachin tendulkar poster, a fountain pen, new china watch, overdose of pastries and cakes from the bakery, sweets from the north Indian sweet shop - the choices were so confusing. He wished he had got one of those on the road rather than the 100 rupees note. Suddenly the sound of shattering glass disturbed his thought process. To his left he saw a feeble old woman, a few feet away from him looking at the shattered set of tea glasses. A few boys came running from the adjacent narrow street turned cricket pitch. The guy holding the cricket bat started hanging his head in shame and tears started rolling down from his eyes. The old lady growing visibly agitated moved towards that boy in anger. But seeing him cry, she stopped for a moment and taking a deep breath, lifted his face, and wiped his tears off. She bent down, picked the red ball that was near by and gave it to boys saying they should be more careful while playing. The boy still sobbing, got the ball from her. Raju could not listen clearly what they were talking about.
After the children were off, the old lady started slowly cleaning the glass, laboring through the process, with a small drop of tear coming out of her eyes. She collected all the broken glass pieces and slowly walked to the end of the dustbin around the corner. Slowly returning she continued attending her customers. That night when she started clearing the tables, below one of the table she found a new set of glasses and a small chocolate bar next to it!!
P.S. the story is from a short film i saw. I was so impressed by it that i wanted to write it again in my own words. Sadly i could not find the movie again. I someone knows the short film pls do share.
As he meandered along, he saw a photo of mahatma ghandhi laughing at him. Its was no sarcastic smile, but an earnest smile coming out of a 100 rs note. Raju kept staring at the smile and did not know what was to be done. The note, quite drenched from the night's downpour was lying in the plain-sight. Quick glances to either side of the road assured him that there was no other human in the vicinity. He casually bent down with a thumping heart which was acting like a caveat, and a nonchalant exterior turning deaf to the inner doomsday predictor, picking it up. He folded the wet note in this hand kerchief and placed it in between the largest book he could find in his bag and hoped all the water would be soaked off by the time he would leave the school in the evening. All he had to do was to wait for the next 8 hours listening to his gabby teachers and cantankerous class mates.
He could not concentrate to anything going on in the class. Even teacher asking him to stand outside for not dong the homework could not distract him from running and rerunning the possibilities his 100 rupee note would bring. This brain was working overtime to optimize the route he would take after the school and he had started faking his stomach ache, while regularly checking the degree of wetness of the folded note. And right in time for the last PT (playing time) period, his fake stomach ache was severe enough for him to be excused for, and leave for home early!! He was lucky that the no body from the school offered to take him home. He quickly packed his bags and set out for the market pacing slowly to begin with and then hitting a top speed an Olympian would be proud of.
Ice cream, cricket stumps, Sachin tendulkar poster, a fountain pen, new china watch, overdose of pastries and cakes from the bakery, sweets from the north Indian sweet shop - the choices were so confusing. He wished he had got one of those on the road rather than the 100 rupees note. Suddenly the sound of shattering glass disturbed his thought process. To his left he saw a feeble old woman, a few feet away from him looking at the shattered set of tea glasses. A few boys came running from the adjacent narrow street turned cricket pitch. The guy holding the cricket bat started hanging his head in shame and tears started rolling down from his eyes. The old lady growing visibly agitated moved towards that boy in anger. But seeing him cry, she stopped for a moment and taking a deep breath, lifted his face, and wiped his tears off. She bent down, picked the red ball that was near by and gave it to boys saying they should be more careful while playing. The boy still sobbing, got the ball from her. Raju could not listen clearly what they were talking about.
After the children were off, the old lady started slowly cleaning the glass, laboring through the process, with a small drop of tear coming out of her eyes. She collected all the broken glass pieces and slowly walked to the end of the dustbin around the corner. Slowly returning she continued attending her customers. That night when she started clearing the tables, below one of the table she found a new set of glasses and a small chocolate bar next to it!!
P.S. the story is from a short film i saw. I was so impressed by it that i wanted to write it again in my own words. Sadly i could not find the movie again. I someone knows the short film pls do share.
