50 Rupees

50 Rupees

It was a normal day. I am still working in the office. Office is quiet and second's needle of the pendulum clock is clearly audible. My colleagues have departed at office time, 6:30 pm, around one and a half hour before. I'm engaged in an unusual assignment, which is though tedious in nature but is really interesting to me. I recently joined this office as a part of compulsory training stipulated with the accounting course, I am pursuing. Considering my interests, I've been allotted this fascinating assignment.

My colleagues are used to my late workings. Even the old peon has left me alone, half an hour before. In the early days, he used to instruct me daily to switch off the lights, close gates properly, but now he is so habitual of my late workings, that he just says, hey, I'm going, you please lock the office.

Well, I'm the only person in the office of  2500 sq. ft., on the third floor. My office had only three cabins, a reception area and some open space with tables, chairs and a few desktops, where we sit and work. I'm bringing some files to my work area, from the cupboard placed in the next cabin. When you are so alone in an office, it looks like you are roaming as Hanuman in golden Lanka of Ravana, and no one else is there to see you, talk with you and you are fearlessly roaming, here and there, alone. Well, I was not to burn the Lanka office, hehe, I eager for early completion of the work and getting back home.

Suddenly the clock struck 8 pm, and I thought to continue it tomorrow. I took a deep breath, shut down my computer, scrolled a few posts and messages on my phone, and thought to close the office. 

Pack up! Lights off! Shutter down! 

Meanwhile, my dad called me and inquired about time, I assured him to reach home in half an hour.

And before I could reach my bike in parking, an arrogant aged client called me and asked some papers from the office. If you are honest to work, and if you have to choose one, between time and work, then your time has to be compromised always, irrespective of whatever small your work pays.

Anyway, 3 rd floor! office reopened! document scanned and sent to the client! Shutters down!

Went down to parking, and finally, I dispatched my self for home.

I usually take long routes, than crowded ones, and mutter songs, poetries on my bike. I do help, if someone needs, in the way.

Near a police station, a constable asked me for a lift. I welcomed him to the bike.

Talking with strangers can give you some unrealistic and incredible experiences of life. I love talking and listening to them, whenever I get a chance.

That constable was middle-aged, with wrinkles on his face and fatigue in his voice. At the first appearance, he looked like a policeman who is about to retire, low shoulders buried with family responsibilities at his maturing age. He had a loose face, seemed flat and thoughtless, which at the first appearance was incapable to show the inner depth.

People generally do not stop to give someone a lift, he said. I answered with a smile, if I am single on the bike, then what's wrong in giving lift. It doesn't cost me any extra, instead, I would get a better counterpart to share my way, and have some decent talks. He nodded his head and uttered, everyone doesn't think alike.

Our conversation started and continued until we saw some roadside huts. He smiled and spoke sarcastically, municipality removes their encroachment in the morning and they tie their tents back in the evening. And the biggest part is both are well aware of each other's response. What do you think about it?

I gave a balanced reply. I spoke, materially both are right. People can mark them right or wrong, but if they remove the specs and see it from personal angles, everyone would look right. 

Municipality does its job to clear roadsides, ease the city traffic, and way to pedestrians. While these hut dwellers are construction and other temporary workers. They have left their village homes to earn bread and butter in this city. They succeed in arranging two time-meal sometimes, while sometimes not. They cannot bear the cost of inflated rents to live in the city, nor does the city accepts them free at the roadside.

He said, yes! You are right.

Everyone is bounded by circumstances and the need to feed the stomach. Everyone has their own personal interests.

Do you know, the root of all problems is "Money". He said abruptly. Those who have it are tensed for its safety and growth, while others, struggle a lot to have it in their hands to satisfy their hunger and fulfill their needs. 

In a very short way, we developed a mutual trust to listen to each other's stuff. Meanwhile, he placed his left palm on my left shoulder as if a grandfather would put on his grandson to find some comfort in sitting. Unintentionally and unconsciously, he took me in some emotional attachment.

Not to admire myself, but factually I like ethics to be followed in life, and I try to follow them every time. They have enrolled in my behavior and thus my words mark imprints of that. I don't like to do wrong, and thus I do not speak wrong. I cannot see or accept unjust and same I guess, he has noticed in my replies to the discussion.

The road was passing back but our discussion was going ahead. In sequence, he shared a strange incident, considering me desirous to listen to his stuff.

And he was perhaps right. The story he narrated, touched the inner walls of my heart. I got sentimental after he was over. Even after a year, I cannot forget that harsh reality cum story, and so made me write this.

That was the time when all our usual talks, goods and bads of the world and people around, was over.

And suddenly, he broke out and uttered, I was on my duty as constable, at one of the oldest temples of the city. Khajrana Ganesh mandir. 

I was standing at the gate, with a rifle in my hand, pilgrims were passing and I was supposed to rescue the crowd from any unwanted chaos.

People were passing and I was silent. Suddenly I saw a woman with a yellow-toned face coming towards. Considering her to be a normal pilgrim, I turned my eyes to another side. But she approached me, I could look at her fatigue eyes and aged face. As a policeman, this is normal for us that people come and ask for proper routes and their desired places. People trust that we will not mock or deride them, and I assumed the same, that she will ask me for a place or route.

Before she could utter anything I noticed there was a weird hesitation on her face and abruptly she spoke, "Give me 50 Rupees and get laid with me. I'll make your night. Come on !"

I was shocked by her words, that what kind of lady she is, asking for sexual intercourse with an on-duty and old policeman, for just 50 Rupees. The amount even is so small, that cannot satisfy a proper breakfast, less than a dollar.

I scolded her that don't you shame to behave like this. Aren't you ashamed of asking for prostitution, with an old aged person that too an on-duty policeman?

But, I was stunned by her reply. Sir, I am 52 years old, I don't want to do this job. My husband is a drunkard, he snatches my savings, nor he gives a single rupee for home grocery or education of my daughter. I have a little daughter, 12 years old, I think if she'll study, I could save her from this shameful and disgusting world. To meet her cost of education and to arrange a two-time meal for us, I'm bound to do this job. I'm so helpless that I cannot feed her, without doing this job. Further, I'm so unfortunate that because of my age, people do not take any interest in me, nor do they pay some worth. Bounded by circumstances and hopes for my daughter, I agree to sell myself at 50 Rupees.

I was speechless and motionless. I had no words to utter, no reactions to display.

She didn't have a single tear in her eyes while speaking her sad story. She was emotional, but the story was such a reality and routine for her, that her tears were dried up by the hits of the time. But I could see her shrinking and twinkling eyes.

The moment was full of emotions and I didn't have any more courage to continue eye contact. I avoided and evaded from the sighting. I turned my face and gave her a gesture to move forward. I was so numb that I couldn't mumble a single word to her. Despite my rigorous job, I'm also a human hearted being, aged with a lot of experiences of ups and downs of life, and filled with deep feelings of emotions, that keeps me down to the ground always. Because of my job, I couldn't react, but my blinking eyes were sufficient to feel her sorrow that I still cannot express in words.

I'm also sad that even my mind didn't work that time, to give me an idea that I could provide her with a small grant, with regard to my capacity.

Her needs have wiped out all her emotions and just after my hand gesture, she moved away, interpreting me that I will not help her. 

I have my wife, my children, my two sons are also married and how can I go on bed with her.

My dharma doesn't allow, nor did I ever thought like, to do so. 

I still regret for her. I had some money in my wallet with which I could help her. But neither she thought it right to beg, nor my mind struck that I should help her with a little money.

Even after she moved off, I was thinking the same scene and I was oscillated by that incident. I was standing there on duty physically, but my mind was stuck to that story. I was also thinking of her daughter, that with doing this job, how she would be able to save her daughter from this bog?

So sad!

Anyway, I didn't have spoken this incident to any of a young age boy like you, because I don't think your age boys can understand it, but you look generous and deep-hearted, that's why I shared this with you.

I supported him and assured that I understand the sorrow. I showed my sympathy towards the lady and her daughter and then we discussed how much money can matter in someone's life. Phrases like "money doesn't matter", are meant for those who have it, but those who have a scarcity of it, only know it's true worth.

In the discussion, I didn't realize, when his destination arrived, and he told me to drop at the roadside. I spoke, it was so pleasing to talk and gain life experiences from you. In our discussion how shortly the journey is over, I never realized.

I left him and joined my palms towards him in order to seek allowance to depart. He smiled and blessed me, and we both have taken our own routes. We never met again, but his story left deep impressions on my soul, that I still cannot forget.

Even after a year, despite the incident is alive in my memory, I was in diffidence, whether to write this story or not, because of its coitus content. But a friend of mine favored to write it and he concluded with the words of Manto...

"If you cannot bear these stories then the society is unbearable. Who am I to remove the clothes of this society, which itself is naked. I don't even try to cover it, because it is not my job, that's the job of dressmakers."

-Saadat Hasan Manto

So, I did my job and hopefully, my readers will understand the same gravity of emotions, as I feel personally.

Thank you.

Parth Bhagat

The Literature Lamp