It was raining heavily on the Thursday evening when I reached Ujjain Junction at around 5 pm. I was there well before the time of departure, i.e., 5:35 pm, of Avantika Express, which runs daily from Indore to Mumbai (or to be particular, Mumbai Central), and Ujjain was its second stop. Fortunately, I didn’t have any heavy luggage with me as it was an official trip and I was expected to return by the next day’s train itself. Today is the 6th of November’ 1998. I opened the calendar application in my cell phone and started analyzing the ORGANIZER function in it for the 7th of November’ 1998.
I bellowed in exasperation,
“Damn it! Not Again. I hate this job.”
My anger was partially due to the fact that I hate rains and partially because there was this India Vs Pakistan match on the 7th of November’ 1998, which I would obviously miss. What aggravated the fury was that it was almost 6 months since I had last seen a match in which India had played, and that too opposite Pakistan. Missing a match was more heart-throbbing than missing dates with girlfriends. Anyways, you must have already guessed by now that I love Cricket, and though I would not say that I am the greatest patriot but I am certainly one of the most loyal citizen of India as far as cricket is concerned. I am sure that if god would ask me my last wish on my deathbed, it would indubitably be to watch all the matches that I missed in my life. I again did some calculations, but something which was hardcore calculation and not just a ‘Class II Mathematics’. So, if on an average, assuming that India played 50 matches a year (including Test Matches after converting them into their One-Day equivalent), it would mean 50 matches per year for me. Multiplying that with 4 years (as I am now 24 years old and have been on my own since I was 20, i.e., the time until when I can say I had never missed a single match that India had played) means I get to see 200 matches (4 x 50), or, in terms of time, 200 days of life.
‘Wow! That will be a nice deal.’ I chuckled and said to myself as if I was really going to die the very next moment and god had already offered me the match-swap-life option.
I approached a coolie and asked,
“Avantika Express… which platform?”
He gave me a scornful look and said with the pride of being the most informed person about trains running via Ujjain,
“Platfaram 18… Train paanch-bees pe lagegi. Samaan uthane mein kuch madad karoon kya sahib?”
(Platform 18… The train would arrive around 5:20 p.m. Need some help with the luggage Sahib?)
“Err… No thanks.”
Within a few minutes I was at Platform 18. I started searching my name in the charts that were prepared and already put up.
“Nikhil Chauhan, S6…. There it is. Seat no 55, side lower. Cool man.”
I always preferred the side lower berth as it offered a little more privacy, but yes, in the end it was only a general coach and so I was prepared for the so called ‘privacy’ that I would get there.
I found that a big queue surrounded the entrance gate of S6, all trying to demonstrate their physical prowess by pushing the one in the front. I felt sorry for that poor guy. How silly could people get? The train would stop for 15 minutes and I guess that was enough to give everybody ample time to move in and organize their luggage without crushing each other. But, my friends, this is India. People do not think about PEOPLE.
I found the entrance gate of S5 to be empty. I quickly hopped in and moved to S6 via the connector and soon, found myself standing next to seat no. 55. I saw that it was preoccupied by a man and a child. I signaled them that it was my seat and they uncomplainingly moved to their own, i.e., 56. There I was, finally on the train to Mumbai as I started thinking of the events leading to this journey.
(10:30 am, 6th November 1998, The Boss’s cabin, Patel Constructors and Builders Pvt. Ltd., Ujjain)
Mr. Praful Patel, a.k.a., ‘The Boss’, was a very wealthy and successful businessman. He had his wings spread over a majority of business segments, be it construction, building, wholesaling, trading, or consulting services. In short he was undoubtedly very successful, rich and a man of authority. But one thing came naturally to him and that was fraud, dishonesty and back-stabbing. I was his assistant and he used to give me his so called, Ways to Become Successful and Rich tips quite on and often. He had called me to his cabin on that day to discuss some important issue.
His cabin door was half-open, so I knocked it and said,
“Excuse Me Sir, may I come in”
“Oh yes Nikhil, come in… come in… Did you read the newspaper today?”
“Yes Sir. I read about the collapse of Krishna Towers in Mumbai, which we had constructed back in early 1997. The papers are putting the death toll to 45. I guess it is intentionally inflated so that media can gather popularity.”
“Bingo! You are always correct and that is what I like about you. You have the vision of being a very successful businessman. You see, a good businessman is always aware of the facts and is able to differentiate reality from rumor. Your skills are getting fine-tuned in my company. Good. I like it.”
I smiled to him for making me feel so big, but in my heart, I knew he was a big bastard who would sell his own kin if the day comes and this ostentatious eulogy meant that he wants me to do something covert, something outstandingly bad for him. I had earlier done a lot of his clandestine businesses, and by now, he had developed a good faith in me. But I never wanted to be like him because he valued wealth to human life. However, I was bound to follow him as it was my first job and his company would get me my own recognition in the market. And, on a suitable time, I would quit and start my own company which would encourage humanity and development over wealth accumulation.
I said in anticipation,
“Thank you Sir. So, what is my purpose here then?”
“Well… Nikhil, I believe you are aware that the All India Union of Builders (AIUB) has set up a Commission to investigate the inexplicable fall of Krishna Towers. We have to provide them the documents which prove that our building was constructed on legitimate grounds, and that its fall was not due to our negligence. This is not the first time it is happening and I am sure that you know what we do in such situations. Our primary goal is to convince the Commission of our authenticity if we want to save our business from loss of credibility. Do you understand me?”
“Yes Sir. I understand you. What do I have to do?”
“You have to go to Mumbai. I have arranged for your tickets. Avantika Express, 5:35 pm today. Keep this.”
He handed me a ticket and I gave a quick glance to it. ‘Mr. Nikhil Chauhan, Avantika Express, Ujjain Junction to Mumbai Central, S6, 55, departure 5:35 p.m., age 24, etc. etc. ‘
I asked, “And then??”
“You’ll reach tomorrow by 7 am. My driver will meet you there and take you to our Andheri Office by 9 am. You’ll have to get the Sanction Paper signed by the Governor which is lying in our Documentation Department. It states that we have the technical capabilities to construct a 40-Floor Apartment, and also, that the land at Juhu is suitable for such construction. As soon as you are done with it, the driver will take you to the place where the Commission is set-up. I’ll join you there and your job will be done. Simple?”
I thought, ‘What a fucking liar?’, but said in a tone of defiance,
“Yes Sir, but is it humane to produce the fake ones that we have obtained by bribing the Governor when lives of so many innocent people are concerned?”
“Hmm… See Nikhil, always remember one thing if you want to be a good businessman…”
I interjected him in the same tone,
“And what is that Sir?”
I am sure he was able to make out that I was actually not a good businessman according to him as I lacked patient, which he considered to be the salient virtue of a good businessman. He responded with such a timbre that I think would have even convinced George Bush to not to wage war at Iraq.
“Nikhil, you are a promising chap. You must understand nothing is good or bad in business. What only matters is money and profits. By producing the Sanction Letter we will get a clean chit from the Commission and thus, our business will be saved. Don’t you want that to happen?”
I said diffidently,
“Sure Sir… I’ll do as you say.”
“Very well… I am really impressed by you. Once we are over with this thing, I will make you known to some of our business partners.”
I almost felt like jumping when I heard this. It meant that I can portray my own designs and maybe manage a small project to start with and then this fucking bastard can go to hell.
“Thank you Sir. I will not disappoint you.” I said with the best smile that I could put up.
“I am sure you will not. You are the best man I have. One more thing, the journey may be a little boring so keep this.”
He hurled a 1 kg book at me, titled, ‘101 ways of being successful by Praful Patel’. I thought he has a personal preference for the number ONE, and in a way, he was The Number One in this industry.
“Read it. It is just a fine print. Let me know your observations. However, I am sure this is ready to be published.”
“Ok Sir. Then see you tomorrow morning in Mumbai.”
“Have a nice journey. Bye!”
(5:35 pm, 6th November’ 1998, Avantika Express)
The train started with a jerk and brought me back from my thoughts. While the train got busy in rolling its pistons, I got busy in arranging my luggage. I noticed that the boy was silently playing on his video game. I gave him a smile and asked,
“Hi! I am Nikhil. What is your name?”
He looked at me but did not reply.
I asked him again,
“Hello! Busy with video game? I am Nikhil and I like video games too.”
Still, there wasn’t any reply. I got a little irritated this time and thought to myself that the younger generations are too haughty to talk. Soon, I was proved wrong when I heard a voice, not of the boy, but rather that of the man with him.
“Hi! I am Akhilesh Mehra, and this is my son Sonu. I am sorry he cannot speak, thus, he could not answer you.”
I said humbly,
“Oh! I am sorry. I was not aware.”
“It is okay.”
I was thinking whether to talk more or not as the boy was engaged in his game on the Nokia N-Gage and his father was busy reading a newspaper. I thought these video game companies have a very wide reach and it is for nothing that they pay their marketing managers lakhs of rupees as Salary. At my time, we were allowed to play it when we were 18+. And now look, even 8 years old know how to play it.
After some time, I asked,
“Are you going to Mumbai?”
“No. We will get down at Ratlam Junction.”
“How far is that from here?”
“I guess 110-120 kms. We will reach by 7:30 p.m.”
I looked at my watch. It was 6 p.m. and talking was certainly a nice way to kill time. I asked,
“Which class is he in?”
“He studies in Class IV at ‘The Under-privileged’ in Ratlam. It is a very good institute for students with physical disability. But I can assure you, he is very smart in studies. Always comes first in his class.”
“Wow! That is very good.”
Saying this I tapped Sonu on his back but he gave me a scornful look, as if I had disturbed Michelangelo while he was painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I peered at his video game screen to find that he was playing some game called ‘Bounce’. That gave me a superb idea to make friends with him. I thought to share some of my favourite games with him and took out my Cell-cum-PDA (Personal Digital Assistant), which was gifted to me by my Uncle in US when I graduated. I asked him,
“Hey, look here. I have some amazing games that I think you can play.”
This was the first time I saw him smiling. He anxiously looked on the PDA screen as I selected a game of my choice. Then, I told him the way to play it, assuming he would understand it all, and then leaving the cell to him, I asked his dad,
“Akhilesh, I hope you don’t mind me calling you by your first name.”
“Oh! Surely you can.”
“Akhilesh, how did your son get into this situation? I mean like… was it congenital or it happened in the later years of his age.”
“Hmm… Everything was fine until he was 5. Then, the problems started. He started complaining of severe head ache. We showed him to a doctor, who, after diagnosis, found that Sonu had a brain tumor, a smaller one, but fatal enough if not treated on time. He suggested doing an operation as the only option left to us, and so, he was operated at just the age of 5. The operation was successful and the tumor was removed, but we found it only later that the intricacy that followed after the operation was a permanent injury to the part of his brain that controls the organs of speech. Initially, we all blamed our decision for this, but today… (Looking at his son he said), I can proudly say that he is still the same old Sonu of Age 5 that we had before and we all love him dearly.”
It seemed that the rain drops in Ujjain had invaded the Lacrimal Sac of my eyes and were now finding a way out as my eyes were no longer able to hold them. I tried to hide my tears but it was evident that if I stayed there for some more time, I would loose them to show how weak I was. I left with an excuse to go to the Restroom where I lit up a cigarette and kept thinking about Sonu and the world. I thought that the world is too harsh. How will this boy make it up? The day he will step into the real world he will realize the murkiness that creeps here. He will meet selfish men like Mr. Patel, who will take advantage of him, men who will call him his friends and will later betray him for their own gains. He would see, he would hear, but he would never talk. His world would be confined within his self-imposed limits. His confidence will be his only power but not his speech, and without speech will he get the confidence?
I walked back to my seat while these thoughts were still brainstorming my mind, but I was surprised to see Sonu, who was jumping on the berth as if he had won The Battle of Waterloo. Akhilesh asked him to calm down and asked him the reason for such elation. They exchanged some signs in between themselves. Finally, the boy looked at me with a smile as Akhilesh explained,
“He has broken your record of 85000 points. He scored 165000 points and that is what made him happy and excited.”
I looked at my PDA in astonishment. Akhilesh was right. 165000 points was a miracle to me. I thought that this boy is really gifted with a sharper brain, if not better than others then at least mine, for I have tried the game more than a hundred times, but I never was able to cross the one lakh benchmark.
By the way, I was a gold medalist in mathematics three times in a row during my college and have several accolades to the favour of my intelligence, elucidating which will mean another story, but, due to space crunch, let us stick to this one.
I said in amusement,
“Wow! This is the most awesome thing I have ever seen. Good going Sonu. Will you be my friend?”
I advanced my hand for a handshake which he eagerly accepted. I then showed him more of the games in my PDA and was amazed to see that he excelled in all. I doubted if god really existed. On one hand he has taken the power to speak from such a small boy and on the other he had given him a sharper brain than others as a trade-off. I wondered whether god is also a businessman. He takes something on the one hand and gives something on the other as an exchange. To quote Mr. Praful Patel, ‘There is always a catch.’ So, maybe life has such catches too.
Suddenly, Akhilesh got up from his seat. I asked him,
“What happened?”
“It is 7:10 p.m. We will be reaching Ratlam Junction any moment.”
“Oh! Ok.”
I was a little disheartened as Sonu was a very sweet boy to be with and I wanted to see him break more of my records. Akhilesh exchanged some more signs with him and turned back to me.
“Thank you for being such a nice friend. He says that he doesn’t have any friend like you. All his friends at the school suffer from one disability or the other, and those who are not, always despise him for being mute. You have given him confidence to approach other people too.”
“Oh please do not thank me. I really enjoyed spending time with Sonu so much that I didn’t even realize where it all went. Here, keep my card and do not hesitate to call me anytime.”
“Thank You.”
Akhilesh stuffed the card in his wallet. The train entered Ratlam Junction and came to a screeching halt after a few seconds. It was 7:15 p.m. and a big queue was again formed at the entrance. I observed that majority people are always trying to be first in two things. First is to get anything free of cost, and second, in any queue. I wondered what the queue would be like for the entrance to Hell.
I locked my luggage and got down from the train along with Akhilesh and Sonu. Sonu clutched my hand while I talked to Akhilesh,
“Akhilesh, I am happy to meet you and Sonu and you are a wonderful dad. Sonu is really lucky.”
“Thanks Nikhil, I am lucky too for having Sonu as my son.”
After a pause he said,
“We must leave now as his mummy would be waiting for us at dinner. It was our pleasure to meet you.”
“Take care and do keep in touch.”
Saying this, I then turned to Sonu and hugged him as tightly as I could. I was able to see in his eyes that he didn’t want to go so soon and wanted to play more with me. Even I wished the same to happen because I rarely meet people who are so opposite of what Mr. Patel is. But then, their station has come. I felt that stations were meant to make people realize that no matter what happens one has to keep moving forward in life. I waved Akhilesh and Sonu goodbye and drew out my pack of cigarettes (I hate cigarettes but I am too weak to avoid it, especially when I am upset about something). I spent another 5 minutes puffing it and thinking why god has made people suffer so much by taking away from them one of the necessary means to live. It was like taking away cigarettes from me.
(7:23 p.m., 6th November’ 1998, Ratlam Junction)
The train siren was very loud and I quickly threw the cigarette bud and got up on the moving train. I was missing Sonu and wished to see more of him. I came back to my seat with the usual melancholy face that I have but was surprised to see a beautiful girl sitting next to it with her baggage lying on my seat. I guessed she must have been around 22 years or so and there was a plausible chance to befriend her.
No matter how much reserved boys are, but when they meet someone dazzlingly beautiful from the opposite sex, they just can’t avoid showing their skills. I said with the same boyish… rather manly characteristics,
“Hi, I am Nikhil. Mind if I remove your baggage as the next seat to yours belongs to me?”
She looked up at me but gave me no response.
I was a little irritated and thought that this reaction means that the friendship has already ended before it could have started. I said again but in a severe tone,
“Hello! Your luggage is on my seat. Mind if I keep it down?”
Again there was no response and I almost screamed the third time,
“Are you deaf? I want your luggage off from my seat now.”
This time she replied, but not what I expected.
“Sorry. Are you talking to me? I am deaf.”
I was struck by this realization as she handed me a writing pad and asked me to write if I wished to say something.
I wrote, ‘Sorry, just keeping your luggage down.’
She nodded.
I took my seat and found her to be busy reading some magazine called ‘Celebrity Gossips’. I thought to myself. ‘Man, all girls are same. They like celebrities, parties and gossips. But is this one different? Or maybe she is not. How do I start the talk… sorry write?’
I glanced at her on and of as she was reading the magazine, making sure that she doesn’t notice this eavesdropping. I analyzed that her height was roughly around 5’ 6”, which is decent for a girl, fair complexion, brown long hair, blue eyes, a sharper nose and a perfect body. She was really very cute and had a lovely voice. I wished to talk to her but something in my mind kept saying no. Damn my mind for it never works when it is supposed to.
I took out the only book I had (remember the one that my boss had given me) and started reading it. The first line said ‘To be successful you must avoid the fear of rejection.’ After some time another line appeared, ‘You must reach out to people if you want to know what they are thinking about you.’ And then, there was another one drawn on similar lines, ‘Learn to follow your interests.’ It appeared as if the book was designed to be read at this particular moment and all the words were meant for me. But how do I talk to a cute-looking girl who is deaf and who appears to be a little laconic?
She glanced at me as if she perceived my bewilderment and asked,
‘Is that some new book?’
Still lost in my own thoughts, I said, “What?”
She got from my expression that I did not hear her. She pointed to my book and said,
“101 ways of being successful, is that a new book?”
I took her pad that was lying beside her and started writing in sms form to save paper.
‘No. It is my boss’s. He is a little insane when it comes to writing. Not much worthy though.’
“Oh!”
Then she said, “Hi! I am Rashmi Mathur.”
I again wrote, ‘Hi! Nikhil Chauhan.’
“What do you do Nikhil?”
‘I am just an aspiring constructor and builder, and you?’
“Well, I am an interior designer.”
‘Ok. That is kool!’
I thought that at least we have something in common. I would construct the buildings and she would design the interiors. Wow! What a match. I almost planned the next 30 years of my life in just 30 minutes with her.
None of us spoke/wrote anything for the next 15 minutes. I had closed my book and was going through the music stored on my PDA, though I deliberately kept it on mute so I could hear if she says anything.
She looked at me fleetingly and said,
“Wow! I wish I had the ears to enjoy it too.”
I just kept silent thinking that what life would be without music. It is music that connects us to our souls. It is not for nothing that the whole world congregates whenever there is a rock concert or a music show. I felt that it is music that keeps us united even when there are tensions in life. But she was detached from it. Maybe she would never be able to listen to the sound of music, or maybe, she had her own music in silence.
I felt hungry as it was already 8:30 p.m. I wrote, ‘Wanna hav dinner 2gether?’
“Let me see. I have chapattis, aloo-dum and baigan bharta with me. What do you have?”
‘Pulao and Paneer-ki-sabji’
“Wonderful. I have enough chapattis for the two of us and we can have the rice after having them. What do you say?”
‘Done’
We shared our food in the same plate as she had just one with her. I was eating less and was admiring her more all the time. She was deaf, but she appeared to me as perfect as Aishhwarya Rai. I started thinking of the song, ‘Hum Bane Tum Bane’ from the movie ‘Ek Duje Ke Liye’. I was getting attracted to her more and more as I saw her eating with her cute little hands and occasionally taking a few sips of water down her throat. I felt thirsty too and it was choking me badly.
Suddenly she said,
“Nikhil, will you keep staring at me or eat as well?”
I blushed and she giggled. And then, we resumed our date-on-the-train. She offered me some chocolates. I must say that girls love chocolates. If you really want to impress one, get her a nice big bar of a chocolate. If she accepts it then there is some way to go, or if she doesn’t, it generally means try another girl and not me. But if a girl offers a guy a chocolate, it means she likes your company, and trust me guys, this is a rarity. This was my idea and I hope you do not interpret it the way I do.
‘Thanks for the chocolate.’
“You are welcome”
I noticed that the first page of the pad was already over and there were 6 more pages left. I thought that would be sufficient to know more about her.
‘Where are you going Rashmi?’
“Mumbai. And you?”
‘Mumbai is the answer’
I was happy about having her company for the whole journey. Generally in trains, you see families, babies crying and puking here and there, old people with faces without any expression and other such stuffs that will make you think, ‘God! What am I doing here?’ But finding a cute and hot girl as a company was a bliss. My mind said to me, ‘Come on Nikhil, you can impress her. You have eight more hours to go until dawn. Look at her, she is a nice person and she is so cute. What else do you need other than a nice girlfriend and a notepad. Do something you stupid.’
‘So, you are still single?’
She smiled and said in the most casual way, “Yes”.
I cursed myself a thousand times for this stupidity. I do not even know her properly to ask her a personal question like this one. I admit that at times boys are too dumb. We do not know what to say and what not to say when we are with a girl, that too, a girl of our dreams. We can be the most amazing and intellectual species on earth but when it comes to going out with a girl, I swear it shakes our butts. There are some who do not have this malfunction but such a breed of men is one-off its kind. Any man, someway or the other, has a phobia to speak to girls, and I called it ‘Parthenophobia’, or, fear of virgins or young girls.
She broke the silence and asked,
“You stay in Indore?”
‘No. Ujjain. I am on an official visit. And you?’
“Even I am from Ujjain. Going to meet a client at Mumbai tomorrow and will be back on the day after itself.”
I though to myself that this girl has real guts to do business and it seemed that she was doing it fine. I mean who else can afford a bag that was Gucci. Mine was Shree Leathers that I bought on my trip to Kolkata last year as it was more affordable and good for a rough use.
She asked, “It is just 9 p.m. now. Want to play some Cards? I like Cards.”
‘Ok! Sure.’
We played for almost an hour but I never realized where the time flew. I had forgotten about everything in her companionship, be it my boss, my work or anything else that mattered to me. I was getting more and more engrossed in her thoughts with each moment of our short-term friendship. I lost 10 consecutive matches out of the 10 matches of Bridge that we played. I sucked badly on my first impression. What a dud.
She gave a big yawn and said with her omnipresent smile,
“Nice game. You surely seem to be the highest loser in Bridge and I am sure you can win a Nobel for this if you continue playing. I wish to win some more games, but I am afraid we cannot carry on with the game anymore. I have to sleep if I want to attend the meeting tomorrow.”
I wrote, ‘k’. But I really wished to write something else. Something like, ‘lets chat for some more time’ or ‘I can loose at Hearts too’ or ‘I lost my heart to you’. But I really didn’t have the guts to write the last one.
She took the notepad from me and on seeing that only one sheet was left, she smiled and said,
“Hmm… I have to buy a new one tomorrow. Goodnight then.”
I uttered, “Good night and sweet dreams.”
I guess she was able to make out what I said as she gave me a big smile this time, and it was clearly discernible that it was more than an ordinary smile that girls use. I believed that girls have two kinds of smiles. First ‘just a smile’ and the other ‘the real smile’, and it is their weapon to be used against boys. The first one for those whom they want to avoid or just want to be friends with and the second one for those whom they like or you can say prefer over other men.
I watched her climb to the side-upper berth while I lay at the lower one. Her smile, her words, her face, her bag, her notepad and everything else that belonged to her appeared in my mind in quick successions. I kept thinking about her and didn’t even realize when I fell asleep.
(11:52 p.m., 6th November’ 1998, Vadodara Junction)
The train stopped with a tweak. I heard someone saying,
“Beta, andhe ko kuch paise de do (Please give some money to a blind man).”
I opened my eyes to see who my newly formed father was. I saw with half-closed eyes that he was an old man, dressed in tattered clothes, wearing a black sunglass and carrying a stick and a bowl with him, in short, a beggar. I generally hated beggars as I had the notion that none of them ever had any deformity and they were better actors than Mr. Amitabh Bachchan or Mr. Sharukh Khan. They were just like my boss; cheaters and liars; the only difference was that they were needy while my boss was greedy.
I tried to make him go away and said callously,
“Baba, maaf karo aur aagey badho (Please forgive me and move ahead).”
He looked at me with a smile which was exhibiting pain and humility. I just couldn’t bear to watch him as he was making me feel guilty. As if his smile was saying, “Son, it is a matter of only a rupee to you.” But how do I explain it to him and the rest of the beggars’ community that I was just following a custom set by our ancestors of shooing away a beggar. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep again but couldn’t. The train was standstill at the station. I got down from the train and had just lit my cigarette when somebody tapped me.
“Beta, andhe ko kuch paise de do (Please give some money to a blind man).”
I looked back. It was him again. I was very happy to see him this time as I really wished to break the custom. He was definitely blind and wasn’t aware that he was standing with the same man who had earlier petrified him to go away or else he would have certainly shown signs of fear.
I took out a 10 rupee note and said,
“Baba, yeh lijiye (Please take it).”
He touched it with his fingers and exclaimed in amazement,
“Yeh to dus rupaiye ka note hai (This is a 10-rupee note).”
His reaction wasn’t unusual as beggars are given coins and not notes, and that too a 10-rupee note. I said,
“Haan Baba (Yes).”
“Shukriya beta (Thank you son)”
And then, he started giving me all the blessings that he could, including the one that prayed for a good wife and a big family. I was very happy, especially at this last wish. He was just about to leave when I stopped him and asked,
“Baba, aap logo se bhik maangte hain aur zyadatar log aapko bhala-bura kehte hain. Kya aap ko bura nahi lagta?”
(You solicit for money to so many people and many of them humiliate you. Don’t you feel bad?)
He replied in his ascetic voice,
“Beta, bura to bahaut lagta hai, par ghar mein bache hain, biwi hai. Unka bhi to dhyan rakhna zaroori hai. Ek waqt tha jab mein driver ki naukri karta tha par ek accident mein maine dono aankhein kho di. Ab ek andhe ko kaun kaam pe rakhega?”
(Son, I do feel bad, but I have my sons and my wife whom I have to take care of. There was a time when I worked as a driver but I lost both my eyes in an accident. Now, who will keep a blind person?)
There was truth in his words. It was the first time I was feeling ashamed of myself and felt like as if someone had cut the heart out of my chest. I always neglected people from this class without thinking that whatever they are doing is only to sustain their living. I offered him another 10-rupee note but he did not accept it. I was astonished to see this.
I requested, “Baba, aap yeh rupaiye bhi rakh lo (Please keep this 10-rupee note too).”
“Nahi beta. Maine tumse pehla wala note isliye liya tha kyunki tumne woh mujhe dil se diya tha. Par doosra note tumne meri garibi aur meri majboori dekh kar di hai. Isliye maine doosra note lene se inkaar kar diya.”
(No son. I accepted the first 10-rupee note because you gave it to me from your heart. But the second note was given because you sympathized with me and you felt bad for my poverty and despair. That is why I rejected it.)
He continued while I stood like a newly-bought dog ready to be trained by his master,
“Beta, andhe do tarah ke hote hain. Ek woh jo sach mein kuch nahi dekh sakte aur ek woh jo jaanbhuj kar apne faayede ke liye apni aankhein band rakhte hain. Pehle waale log shayad garibi se haar kar khatam ho jaayenge, par yeh doosre log kabhi bhi khatam nahi honge.”
(Son, there are two kinds of blind people. The first kinds are those whom god has made blind, while, the second kinds are those who put on an act of blindness in order to achieve their personal goals and interest. The first kind may die of poverty, but the second kind will never die away.)
I was dumb-struck on hearing his reply. It was shocking to see the man’s self-respect and belief on his principle. If everybody would have been like him then India would have probably been the leading country in the whole world, a country which is free from the ubiquitous corruption, greed and malice that is sucking humanity in the name of wealth and development.
I hugged him and asked him to take care. He smiled at me and continued on his way asking people for money in his usual way. I watched him beg to three more people, all heartless like me, for no one offered him anything. This feeling made it more difficult for me to breathe. I took out another cigarette and lighted it. I was still thinking about that man. Something made me resemble him in some way but I was unable to figure out what.
(12:10 a.m., 7th November’ 1998, Vadodara Junction)
The train roared loudly. I was back to my seat but wasn’t able to sleep. Something was bothering my mind. I felt that I really needed someone’s aid or else I’ll lose my sleep over finding out what caused this unnerving loss of peace of my mind. I felt like strangling myself when god sent me an angel and I heard a sweet voice from above,
“Nikhil, aren’t you asleep yet?”
I looked at Rashmi and nodded. She came down and sat next to me. There was enough light that we were able to see each other and this was the first time that I was not gazing her in adoration. Maybe she was also able to make out my gloominess. We kept silent for some time before she finally said,
“Nikhil, I want to confess something.”
“What?” I said without looking at her.
“I am not deaf. I was able to hear you. I just wanted to avoid you initially so I pretended to be deaf. Later on, it became fun.”
I said in infuriation,
“So why are you saying this now? I mean you must have let it be as it was going. I would have forgotten you or maybe made this whole thing a little more fun to you.”
“Nikhil, I am sorry. But I just wanted to see how you would react if I told you that I was deaf. You were very nice to me and that gave me the confidence to tell you the truth because I want to stay friends with you.”
She had a point. I looked at her for the first time during this whole conversation. I was assessing what to say first, ‘its okay with me’ or ‘I want to share something with you’. I made up my mind in a few minutes and said,
“Rashmi, its fine with me, I mean you having fun with me. I have no issues with that but something weird has happened today and I am not able to figure out what. Will you help me?”
She said in an assuring voice,
“Sure. Remember, we are friends now, so, you can share with me whatever is plaguing you.”
I found solace in her words and began describing her the events that occurred since the morning of 6th November. How my boss got me on this train, the purpose of my journey, Sonu and Akhilesh, meeting her and then finally the old blind beggar. I made her believe that something connected them all but I was unable to find out what it was. I kept hushed for a while thinking that Rashmi would be able to help me out of this.
She was also quiet. She kept murmuring something to herself but I was lost in my own thoughts. Finally, she said,
“I got it Nikhil but before we start why don’t we have some coffee?”
Coffee was certainly not a good idea at that time but I was ready to do anything to get the peace of my mind. We called for two cups of coffee from the pantry. Soon, we were sitting with our hands holding the steaming cup of coffee, the vapors vanishing into thin air in the same way as a life vanishes each day from this earth and we are not even aware of it. I gestured Rashmi to start.
“Well, you have to promise me that you will take whatever I say sportingly.”
“I promise, now continue please.”
“Okay. To begin with, you are an assistant to a corrupt businessman and you hate him every second of your life. But you do not show it because you are afraid that this would hamper your job. You do not want to spoil your reputation by leaving your current boss. Am I right?”
“Yes”
“Today, your boss asks you to do one of the things which you do not like. He asks you to collect some fake documents for him which would free your company from the charges of constructing an illegal building. You agree to it but inside you, you know that it is not the right thing to do. Correct?”
“Yes”
“Now, you get on this train hoping that somehow you’ll manage this for one last time and soon after you get to know more people from this industry, you’ll do your own projects and do away with this greedy boss of yours.”
“Hmm… Go on.”
“Then something unforeseen happens. You meet three people, including me, who are suffering from some disability or the other. First Sonu, the mute boy who made friends with you and you were attached to his friendship even though he could not speak because he made you understand that mind is more powerful and even if one lacks the power to speech, he can communicate and do things with his mind that are even impossible for a man of your intellect to do. Second, you met me, who is (rather pretends to be) deaf. We share a good rapport and you realized that deafness is actually not a factor to judge a human being worthy of friendship. Rather, you made friends with me because you valued my confidence and my self-belief over my deafness. Then finally, this old blind man, who made you realize that his blindness is not a pain to him. He made you believe in his self-respect and his principles as a medium to keep him alive and give him strength to fight with any obstacle that comes in between him and his family. So, this is the whole story. Do you get the picture sharp and clear?”
“Yes. I think so. But what is this got to do with me?”
“Yes, that is the most interesting part. See Nikhil, a majority of the people on this earth have all these drawbacks in them.”
“What drawbacks?”
“Let me finish. These drawbacks are dumbness, deafness and blindness. One way or the other, we all are dumb, deaf and blind. We see so many things, we hear so many truths and we speak so many lies. But what do we really do? In order to achieve our personal interests and well-being, everyday we live a life of a dumb, a deaf and a blind person. We do not come out with the truth when we fear it will harm us. We do not hear the plight of the needy and even if we do, we do not take it seriously as if they are not important. We are blind because we are ignorant to these dark truths about our life. We do not give testimony to the truth simple because we believe that it is not our business, but the fact is that it is actually our business that the world that we live in is free from people like your boss, Mr. Praful Patel, and that, every human enjoys his right to life and lives in harmony to each other.”
My mind was in tranquility after hearing this. I thought to myself that whatever Rashmi had just said was so much correct and that is probably the reason why I was feeling so uneasy. I looked at Rashmi and inquired,
“But what should I do to avoid these thoughts from stalking me all the time?”
“I am sorry Nikhil. I can’t help you this time. This is what you yourself have to figure out.”
“Ok. Thanks a lot anyways. I really feel a little better and all because of you.”
“Oh! Don’t thank me. By the way, one more sheet is left in my pad. Want to use it for the rest of the night?”
Both of us broke into laughter and our heads banged together. It did hurt a little but it was a good feeling. I was so close to Rashmi that I could catch her breath. I said,
“Thank you for everything you have done, I want to stay in touch with you. Can I have your number?”
“What would you do with the number of a deaf person?”
I said in a little louder tone,
“Oh! Come on! Don’t make me realize what a fool I have been again and again.”
“Oops! Sorry. So you have a hot temper too. Maybe this will cool you.”
She took out the last sheet of paper from her pad and wrote, ‘9926055678’. Then she smiled and said,
“Do remember me. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight”.
My mind interrupted me, ‘What? Just a ‘Goodnight’? Are you a dumb-head? At least do some more talking. Ask her about her hobbies and herself. ’
I wished to talk to her more, but everything was going fine between the two of us. I didn’t want to ruin it by desperately trying to seek her attention to our newly formed relationship. I reclined on my seat and kept staring at her number for at least 5 minutes and then I kept it safely in my wallet and went to sleep.
(6:35 a.m., 7th November’ 1998, Mumbai Central)
I woke up when somebody called me,
“O bhaiya, jaago. Mumbai aa gaya hai”
(Wake up brother, Mumbai has come.)
I got up thinking I should wake up Rashmi too but she was not on her seat. I thought she must have already got down and must be waiting for me. I took my luggage and stepped down the train but only to find her gone. I played the double role of a stimulator and a pacifier and spoke to myself, ‘Rashmi left without even meeting me. That was very bad.’ And then, I consoled myself, ‘Or maybe she really had some urgent work. Anyways, I do have her number right. Now, I must do what I really want to do but let me confirm again if she has really left.’
I guessed that she might have left some message for me to the Ticket Checker, in short, TC of the coach, because he was the only other thing that was static apart from the train and he must have noticed her leave. I approached the TC of our compartment and asked him,
“Sir, there was this lady next to my seat. I presume that she must have left you a message for me.”
“What is the seat number?”
“Mine or her”
He growled, “Her”
“Sorry… It is 56”
“56… 56… 56… Yes, that berth was empty. No one turned up.”
“What? Sir, please check again. She occupied the seat at Ratlam Junction, after that man and his son got off at the same station. What was their name? Yes, Akhilesh Mehra and Sonu Mehra.”
“I am sorry, as per my records, nobody had occupied that seat for the entire journey. Now will you let me go, I have other agendas as well.”
I stood thunder-struck at what I just heard. I gathered my feet to move out the station. The driver was waiting as commanded by Mr. Patel. I guessed he recognized me due to my earlier visits to Mumbai and his patent salutation was a proof to that. He took my luggage and kept it in the dickey of the car. I sat at the back seat still thinking of what to do next.
He asked, “Where go Sahib? (Where shall we go?)”
He had this habit of speaking broken English in a way to impress any important person to Mr. Praful Patel and he knew that I was more than important, rather Right-hand of Mr. Patel.
“The whole journey was tiring. I want to freshen up. Take me to the Guest House… No wait… Yahan kisi achche doctor ko jaante ho? I mean psychiatrist. Do you know any good psychiatrist?”
He looked at me in disbelief and answered,
“Yes Sahib. Near office only. I’ll drive you now.”
(Yes sir. He practices near our office. I’ll take you to him right away.)
(8:30 a.m., 7th November’ 1998, Dr. Prashant Maheshwari, Andheri W, Mumbai)
I reached the clinic well on time. It had just opened for the day and luckily, there was no queue here. I waited for 10 minutes when the doctor called me in.
“Hello! Mr…”
“Nikhil Chauhan”
“Yes Mr. Chauhan, what can I do for you?”
“Will you believe me?”
“Try me. It is my job to believe.”
I took a deep sigh and explained him everything that happened since the time I got on the train except the purpose of my visit to Mumbai. I must say that he listened to my whole story with great endurance. Someone else would have just broken into hysterics and made me feel more miserable. I concluded that he was good at his work and he will give me the right solution.
He kept mum for some time and then asked me certain questions like these;
“Did you see the man and his son?”
“Yes”
“The girl, what was her name again?”
“Rashmi… Rashmi Mathur.”
“Yes, I remember now. Did you see her too?”
“Yes”
“And did you also see the blind old man?”
I was beginning to loose my faith in him but I said softly,
“Yes”
“Now this will be really difficult, so think hard before you answer this one.”
“Ok”
“Did the man or the boy or the girl or the blind man do anything exceptional that will prove their existence?”
I did some thinking before I yelled as if I was Vasco Da Gama and I had discovered some new sea route,
“Hmm… Oh yes. How can I forget? The boy was a champ in games. He scored the highest possible points in one of the games on my PDA. It has his name too. Wait, I’ll show you that.”
I took out my cell phone and opened the game that Sonu played yesterday and clicked the ‘Highest Score’ option. The screen showed, ‘Niks – 85000 points’. I was stunned.
I said timidly, “Wait, the girl, Rashmi. She gave me her phone number.”
I took out my wallet and searched for the last sheet of her notepad. I searched again and again but didn’t find it anywhere. My senses were betraying me when an apple hit my head, but I do not remember who threw it; god or the tree that bore it, for none of them was present in that room.
“Oh yes. I had only two 10-rupee notes, one of which I gave to the blind man and the other to the pantry boy for two cups of coffee.”
I opened my wallet again and emptied its contents. There were five 500-rupee notes, ten 100-rupee notes, three 50-rupee notes, some coins and finally, two 10-rupee notes. I was frozen and sat motionless without thinking of arranging back everything that I had just emptied, including my brain.
Finally, the doctor spoke,
“Mr. Chauhan, I now know what the problem is. We call it delusions in our terminology; you may call it a condition in which the subject has lost touch with reality and experiences hallucinations and misperceptions.”
I wondered that why these doctors called their patients who were living human beings as subjects. As if they meant nothing to them, but just a body with which they have grown up experimenting with. He continued,
“The dumb, the deaf and the blind were your hallucinations or your own creations. A person suffers from this when he is in a lot of tension and stress or when there is a conflict between his head and his heart. I guess you are also in some similar tension, I’ll not ask you what, but the solution to which you have to find yourself. All I can say is that it is temporary. Here is the prescription for drugs that will keep you a little less stressed for the time being, but in the long run, it can be avoided by your own endeavor to be stress-free.”
I said after a long respite,
“Hmm… Thank you Mr. Maheshwari, your fee is…”
“Rs 300”
“Here”
I gave him three 100-rupee notes and transferred the rest of the money back into my wallet. I came back to my car and ordered the driver to take me to office immediately. I reached it at around 9:30 a.m. and went straight into the Documentation Department. After some searches I found the documents that I was looking for. I walked back into the car and asked the driver to take me to the place where the Commission was to be held. He did as told. I reached there at around 10:30 a.m. and realized that I was late. I swiftly entered the hall. The commission had already started their enquiry and Mr. Praful Patel was eagerly waiting for me, occasionally popping his head from his seat to look at the gate to see if I have arrived. He looked like a boiling egg to me. He almost jumped on seeing me and signaled me to take the seat next to him. I did as directed.
Until twenty minutes, the opposition kept asking us questions concerning our approach and procedures for the construction of Krishna Towers, to which Mr. Patel lied impeccably. Finally, he said,
“I have something with me that will prove that we did our work legitimately. I request my assistant to come up and produce the evidence before you. Mr. Nikhil Chauhan, please come up.”
I stood up and walked into the enquiry booth. There was silence for a couple of minutes before I finally said,
“Dear all… We all face certain drawbacks. These drawbacks are dumbness, deafness and blindness. One way or the other, we all are dumb, deaf and blind. We see so many things, we hear so many truths and we speak so many lies. But what do we do? In order to achieve our personal interests and well-being, everyday we live a life of a dumb, a deaf and a blind person. We do not come out with the truth when we fear it will harm us. We do not hear the plight of the needy and even if we do, we do not take it seriously as if they are not important. We are blind because we are ignorant to these dark truths about our life. We do not give testimony to the truth simple because we believe that it is not our business, but the fact is that it is actually our business that the world that we live in is free from people like my boss, Mr. Praful Patel, and that, every human enjoys his right to life and lives in harmony to each other.”
Mr. Patel sprang from his seat like a bread spurts from a toaster. He was white as if he was bit by a snake. I continued,
“I was also dumb, deaf and blind until today, but not anymore. I would not waste much of your time. I have these two documents with me. The first one on my right hand is signed by the Governor stating that the construction ground is capable of withstanding a 40-Floor building and the same document is sanctioned and approved by him. The second one on the left hand is signed jointly by the Governor and the Technical Officer designated to prepare the feasibility report for the construction project on that land. It says that the maximum capacity that the ground can hold is 50-Floors. And here are two more documents that will prove which of them is real and which is fake. Here is the bank statement verifying the transfer of Rs 50 Lakhs to the Governor and this document here is the feasibility report of a fake Technical Officer in which 40-Floors is stated as the optimized construction level. I presume it is clear to all of you or you want me to speak more?”
I looked at Mr. Patel. He was jumping like a madman. I walked out the Commission’s office and he followed me soon.
“Hey Nikhil, you bastard and bloody-backstabber, I do not know why you did this but I’ll make sure you are finished. Let me clear this first and then it will be your turn.”
I turned back and landed a heavy blow on his cheeks with his ‘101 ways of being successful’, the impact of which was so strong that he hit the ground with a thud and his nose started bleeding. I said,
“Fuck you Mr. Patel, for I am no more your puppet. I refuse to be dumb, deaf and blind. I’ll expose you and every person like you from now on. So either you change yourself or book a permanent seat in the Jail. Do you get me?”
For the first time I saw fear in his eyes and that strengthened my faith to continue on this new path. I wished to give him one more blow and then kick his ass, merely because I enjoyed it more than anything else I have ever done for him, and who on earth gets an opportunity to thrash his own sulky boss. However, as he was already shivering from the first one, so I left him there wondering what had happened to me.
(7:05 p.m., 7th November’ 1998, Mumbai Central, Avantika Express)
I returned to the same place from where I started, i.e., Avantika Express, on my way back to Ujjain. It was not much occupied and I again got a side-lower seat. I was thinking that maybe whatever happened was for the good and I was happy about discovering this new faith and belief in myself. I was thinking of making a new beginning at some other place, when suddenly someone called my name.
“Mr. Nikhil Chauhan; the dumb, the deaf and the blind guy; is on the same train.”
I looked back to see a group of girls. The one who spoke my name got up on seeing me and said,
“Mr. Chauhan, we heard about your audacity and honesty on news today. You are the hot topic for them and your name is being referred everywhere in the media. What you did was just amazing. We all are your fans now. Mind if we ask for autographs?”
I first looked at her and then her notepad and both reminded me of Rashmi. I smiled to her and signed on their notepads. I asked her,
“What is your name?”
“Soniya Verma”
“Nice meeting you Soniya. Are you from Ujjain?”
“Yes”
“Good. Even I am. Want to play cards?”
“Oh yes. I love it.”
“What about coffee?”
“Nice idea”
“You like interior designing?”
“Yes. Wait, it is getting a little creepy. How the hell do you know that I am an Interior Designer?”
“It was just a little speculation. I guess, maybe Ujjain has the biggest industry for Interior Designers.”
“Oh! I see. And what makes you think that?”
“You see ………………”
And we continued talking for the entire journey.
(5th November’ 2008, Ujjain)
This is how a day in the train changed my whole life. It has now been almost a decade since that day. I am now an established builder and constructor. Soniya and I met on that train but we never thought that it would bind us together forever. We are now a happily-married couple, very similar like the ones you get to see in Indian movies. We have two kids, a beautiful girl of 6 years, and a handsome boy of 5 years. We have kept their names as Rashmi and Sonu. I construct buildings and Soniya designs the interiors. We are surely a very well known couple in this industry. It seems like all my dreams have come true and only because of that single day. And yes… I have completely quit smoking.
I thank you for reading the story of my life and expect that if you have been dumb, deaf and blind so far then you’ll realize that you need to change. I would be grateful to god if my example can make even one person transform his life. And if you think that you are that person then you will have to first kill the dumb, the deaf and the blind within you to achieve the true purpose of your life. Someone has to make the beginning right?
I did it when it was my turn. Now, the ball is in your court. Play it the best way you can.
My best wishes are with you…
Love,
Nikhil Chauhan
(The above story is purely fictional and bears no resemblance to any person dead or alive.)
We all have stories, some told and some untold... 