The Good Boys

Newspaper …….. Newspaper …….. Newspaper ………. Terrorists stormed Mumbai …….. Mr. Joshi, your Times, please …….. Breaking News ……… 138 killed in Mumbai …….. Times of India, Dainik Jagran, Indian Express ……… Ministers blame Intelligence …… Pandeyjee, your Jagran …….. Lawyer sir, your Express, please ……… Newspaper …… Newspaper …… Indian Express, Times…………

The 75 – year old hawker runs tirelessly from one end to another of the train. His heavy thick-glassed spectacle gets slipped and rests on the tip of his nose. No time to adjust it. He is very hasty to accomplish his sell. Anyhow he has to earn his one week’s earning today. Sometimes such opportunity comes. Everyday such terrorist attack doesn’t occur! It has taken 138 innocent lives ….. No problem. It’s a black day for the nation and the entire civilized world ……. That’s not his look out. This attack has proved how weak the Indian intelligence is …… No worry at all. But it will definitely give him his one week’s earning. That’s what he is concerned to. Huge uproar among the crowd can not touch his ear leaves even. Gigantic harsh sound of the moving galloping train hardly makes any effect for him. But he never fails to respond to any small feeble voice, “One Paper, please.”

He is the only ‘authorized’ newspaper hawker in this galloping train. ‘Authorized’ means authorized by the daily passengers. Every daily passenger knows and loves him very much. They never allow any other hawker to sell newspapers inside this train. Nitin also loves them equally. If anybody is absent from his business one day, the next day the man to whom he has to give explanation first is ‘Daddu’. Old Nitin is popularly known to his customers as “Daddu.” “What happened Professor, sir? Yesterday I didn’t see you.”
“Yesterday I didn’t see you, Nareshjee. I think you were busy in roof concreting, right?”
In this way, Nitin has made his strong access to their hearts. Nitin is really incomparable in making relation and maintaining it. People say that he is next to Gandhiji because they feel the tender touch of his heart through his acts. “What happened Ansari sir? Have you got that medicine for your grand daughter that was not available in your town?”
– No brother. So far not. Even I tried in Kolkata yesterday. But in vain.
– No problem. Better, give the prescription to me now and get the medicine tomorrow.
– How will you get it?
– That’s my business, Ansari sir. Just leave it with me.
Next day, while he was selling the papers, he stopped before Ansari and handed over the medicines and prescription.
– How did you get it, Daddu?
Nitin smiled and replied, “One of my friends is a medicine supplier and travels by this train daily. I have just given the prescription to him and he has done the job.”

But today he has no time to respond to anything else other than his business. All the daily passengers have a clear understanding of it. His old wrinkled shirt has been completely drenched. The fountain of sweat flowing from his white curly hairs has become a document of his earnest effort for survival. For him, it’s the struggle for existence.

First round of business is over. Nitin looks tired, exhausted. The train will reach Howrah soon. He counts the left over papers and finds a vacant seat beside Advocate Jayant Varia whom he affectionately calls “Lawyer sir.” He sits there and takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and rinses the glasses of his spectacle and rubs his head and face strongly with it.

“I think your sensex is very high today”, Jayant jokes.
Nitin smiles and says, “Thanks God, Lawyer sir. By this time, really I have earned two days’ bread for my family.”
“Very good, Daddu. Keep it up. How many members do you have in your family?” Jayant asks.
– Just two. Myself and my better half.
– Don’t you have any children?
– Obviously sir. I have one and only child. My angel son.
Jayant couldn’t read Nitin’s sarcastic statement.
“What is he doing?” Jayant asked.
Nitin withdraws his eyes from Jayant’s face, takes a deep breath and says, “I think you know him very well.”
“How come I know him, Daddu?” Jayant gets surprised.
“Yes, you must know him”, a gentle reply from Nitin, “His photo has come up on the front pages of most of the newspapers today. Today he is rushing for Mumbai to count the dead bodies! He is the Home Secretary of our country now. Mr. Mohit Trivedi, IAS.”
“W-h-a-t!” Jayant gets a sudden jerk. His eye – balls come out of their shells. “What! Mohit Trivedi is your son!” Jayant becomes completely speechless.
Nitin remains calm and quite and says, “Yes sir, I am his father.”
– Oh my God! You are his father! Do you know what a big man you are?
“Very thoroughly, Lawyer sir.” Nitin says keeping his attention in rinsing the glass of his spectacle.
Jayant was absolutely astonished. He was firmly staring at the face of Nitin. He can not believe what he has witnessed right now. He looks very curious.
“May I ask one question to you, Daddu? Of course, if you don’t mind.”
Nitin gets up from his seat, picks up his newspapers and says, “Tomorrow, Lawyer sir. Train has already approached the station. I must have to earn my one week’s income today.” He stretches his legs towards the gate. The train is still in motion. Jayant remains speechless again, looking blank towards the mysterious man. Suddenly Nitin comes back to Jayant and whispers, “Lawyer sir, our today’s discussion is very confidential. Please keep it within yourself only.” Then he disappears into the sea of walking crowd on the platform.

He comes out of the station and reaches the jetty to catch a launch. He has to go to the other side of the river for collecting newspapers. He lights a cigarette and starts waiting for the launch. The Ganga is flowing indifferently with firm determination to see the sea. No barrier can stop her. He looks at the old Howrah Bridge – the enormous cantilever bridge that has no support over the river. He watches hungrily how it is hanging without making itself a burden to the river. He momentarily feels a tremendous power into himself. He has to flow like Ganga. He has to stand erect like Howrah Bridge. But how long? Human life is neither the Ganga nor the bridge. Old age has already started dominating his health and mind. Now he can not work as much as he could 14 years before. After one or two years he won’t be able to travel, his walking ability will be ceased one day; he will be a bed-ridden old scrap. Time will never treat him in different way. Who will then feed him and his wife? A support is needed. A support is must.

This known fear teases the old feeble mind very unkindly. The cigarette keeps on burning between his two fingers. Nitin throws it into the stream and takes a newspaper in that hand. He gives a careless glance at the front page and looks at the photograph of Mohit. How mature he has been! What a glow of seriousness is getting scattered from his face! The cute small baby of that day who used to wait impatiently for his father’s return from his office just to get a chocolate is now the Home Secretary of India! Nitin brings the paper closer to locate the scar on his forehead in the photograph. He keeps on looking at it very affectionately. He recollects that blood-stained child crying bitterly after suffering an injury on forehead while playing. Then he recovered. Then he grew up gradually. A fine line of tender moustache over his rosy pink lips gave a warm welcome to his adolescence. Then he graduated from Allahabad University. Then he became topper in IAS Exam. Then one day Nitin watched he was whispering with his mother in the kitchen. Very clever guy! He managed to gain Nitin’s consent through his mother over his marriage with his girl friend. Then he got married. Then ……….

Nitin doesn’t want to think beyond this. He can not understand when the stream of tears secretly floods his chicks. He rubs his chicks and sees the tears on his palm. A pair of dry eyes becomes wet for the first time after 14 years. No, no more tears now. It makes the pavement of life slippery. It’s a folly to lament for a traitor son in this twenty first century. The son for whom they have given up every pleasure, every happiness, every comfort of their lives, have spent even the last coin of their earning for his success, how can that man turn his face from providing a square meal and shelter to them? A wild lion roars from the interior of Nitin. M-o-h-i-t, get ready. I am coming. I will storm the basement of your castle that I built day after day by my toils, sufferings and sacrifice. Your time has come. I won’t leave you at all. I am going to be the worst offensive cyclone in your life. Tackle it, if you can. An enormous courage has rejuvenated the old and feeble heart again. No, No more delay now. Now or never. He immediately takes out his mobile phone from his pocket and dialed.
– Hello, Lawyer sir?
– Who’s there? Daddu?
– Yes sir. I am Daddu speaking.
– Yah! Tell me. Why are you looking excited?
– Lawyer sir, I have an urgent piece of discussion with you. Could you please give me some time – at least one hour?
Jayant smiles. “Is it regarding the question I raised in the train?”
– Yes sir.
– Daddu, I knew that you would call me one day but never expected so early. No problem. I will come down to your house. Are you staying in the same slum on the bank of the Ganga?
– Yes sir. I live there only. Hut Number 45. Thank you, sir.

That is the hottest evening in Kolkata. The setting sun over the river Ganga today is brighter and hotter than ever. It is, as if, a sun rise in the west. Every hut in Amrit Slum glitters like gold by the last shine of the departing sun. At the furthest corner of the slum, in the hut number 45, a violent tornado was then taking birth to face the challenge of the vile mentality of the Indian idiots of new generation.

Advocate Jayant Varia guessed the situation in advance; yet he listens patiently to Nitin and his wife, Uma. He gets surprised witnessing the strong determination of this old couple to conquer their own human right that was robbed by their beloved son. Love, in this way, keeps on deceiving the parents. Parents’ endless forgiveness to their children, in this way, secures the unscrupulous children in this deception. Why can’t all the ill-fated parents raise their voices high like Nitin and Uma? Why can’t they become striker rather than being stricken? A hidden revolt started shinning all over the physic of Advocate Jayant like today’s setting sun.

“We have to fight this case in different way, Daddu,” Jayant says, “Not only sending a mere legal notice to him, but we also want to send this story far and wide. Let all the Indians know about their Home Secretary. Let Mohit be introduced with the hatred in his office, in the markets, in his high profile society. Let him assess the strength of the parents. Not only that, it will rather help other ill-fated parents come up on the same platform. We desperately need to arrange for media conference soon.’’ Jayant looks flamboyant.

Nitin reacts inversely. “Why will the media be interested in providing coverage over the tragedy of a poor man like me? Nobody will take our side, Lawyer Sir. Nobody. Moreover, it’s a very common thing now-a-days. They won’t find this case spicy at all.” A frustration comes out of Nitin.

Jayant looks more challenging.

– That’s the greatness of Mohit. Don’t think it’s a case of Nitin Trivedi alone. But more significantly, it’s a case against Mohit Trivedi – the present Home Secretary of India. His high official dignity will obviously charm the media. We will strike Mohit with his own weapon. The media won’t find anything spicier than it.

Jayant is an intelligent, courageous and highly determined personality. He has vast experience in his profession. Many strong cases he fought in his life. But he is going to see such a big powerful officer in his opposition for the first time in his life. It’s a challenge for him too.

Finally the bell is rung to declare the war. Legal notice has been sent to Mohit. But it doesn’t make any stir in the mind of Nitin. He remains indifferent. That galloping train, the newspapers, the Howrah station, that jetty – all remain part and parcel of his life like everyday. But this evening is something different. Entire slum looks like a fairy queen with colourful lights. Every nook and corner is made neat and clean. All the men, women and children of the slum are dressed with their new garments. At the middle of the slum there is a dais on which some persons are working. They have brought few big cameras, mikes etc. Except few, none of the slum dwellers knows exactly what is going to happen here. A rumor spreads all around that the renowned movie actor Amitabh Bachchan is coming there for shooting a film. This has brought a huge crowd in the slum. They are extremely curious about many things – the name of the film, the actress, the director and many other things. But their every question comes to a halt when they see Nitin – a much known railway vender – comes straight along with his wife to the dais and picks up the loudspeaker.

– Yes, we are the parents of Mohit. Mr. Mohit Trivedi – the present home secretary of India. I think all of you know him. But I don’t know how well. He is a big man now. He topped in IAS exam. Last month his interview with the chief editor of the Indian Newsline was telecasted in a TV channel. He was asked over the key of his success. He was very intelligent. He didn’t take any time to give this reply so that nobody could doubt his fabricated statement. He promptly replied that his love, respect and sincere obedience to his parents were the real keys of his success. Oh! What a parents – loving son he is! His falsehood was not limited to this extent only. He lied further. He told that everyday before leaving home for his office, he bows his head first to his parents, then to the portrait of the God. H-u-m-h! I still remember the interviewer gave claps to him. I do really feel pity for that poor interviewer who, till today, doesn’t know how nicely he was befooled that day. That’s why he is bureaucrat. And that’s why we are general public.

Nitin pauses, takes down his heavy spectacles from his nose and continues.

– Now I am giving an instance of his devotion to his parents. While I was running from one corner to other for a bottle of blood in the government hospital for my wife, I mean, his mother, who was fighting tooth and nail with the death in ward number 38, I saw Mohit was coming out of his car. Seeing him I got courage. I ran to him and said, “Mohit, we need one bottle of B positive blood urgently for her. It’s not matching with that of mine.’’ Do you know what he told me then? He said, “I am not here for all these nonsense. I am here to inform you that I don’t want see your faces in my bungalow any more. My gate is permanently closed for you. Understand?”

He put his spectacle on and says, “This is what Mr. Mohit Trivedi is. Forget about what the parents do for their child, we went more than the conventional limit. He managed very cleverly to grab my own house and all of my retirement benefits. But this is the way he reciprocated. He is a fraud, a traitor, a cheater. Only god knows how we have been surviving for last fourteen years at our old age! But no more …. No more tolerance now. I have already filed a case against him. He has so far seen only one side of the coin and now I will show him the other. And that will pose a huge cost to him.”

Nitin stops. A grave silence prevails all around. The slum dwellers who are patiently listening to Nitin get plunged into a deep surprise. They never anticipate that such a pain Nitin and Uma have been bearing in their hearts so long.

– How did it take 14 years to file a case? Arjee TV asks.

Nitin coughs a little and replies, “Honestly speaking, during these 14 years we never thought of any such act. We were living in fool’s paradise. An impractical superiority and challenge were dominating our minds. We firmly decided that we would rather die than to beg his help for our survival. We never thought that it was our right. We never thought that it was a legal obligation for him to provide all of our requirements at our old age. This ignorance accompanied with an insignificant ego has been being a cause of the worst suffering of the ill-fated parents for years after years. And the so called “good boys” are really intelligent enough to exploit this golden opportunity very efficiently. Now his game is over and ours begins. Now we will teach him over humanity in the language he easily understands.”

– The conflict begins after the marriage of Mohit. Do you hold his wife responsible for this rift? Asks Superstar TV.

“No, not all”, a sharp reaction of Nitin, “Though we didn’t feel any support, any sympathy from her side in this conflict, yet we never hold her responsible at all. She is not related to our blood. She came from different family, different culture and different atmosphere. She didn’t stay long with us together. Moreover, we couldn’t do anything remarkable for her so far. So, it’s a folly to expect any co-feeling into her. Once we failed to get even a torn piece of sympathy from a man who bears my own blood in his veins and arteries, then what else left for us to expect from her?”

“It’s a great judgment Mr. Trivedi,” says Arjee TV, “Then why did such a good and natural relation get deteriorated? What did make the difference?”

– It’s the difference in ideology, Mr. Journalist. So far we knew that the nature and signature of a man hardly change. But in case of my son, we closely witnessed how an honest, kind and virtuous nature got plunged into the greed of money so easily. One day I saw a civil contractor who brought truckful of costly furniture for his new bungalow. Mohit was very happy with him. Most often he used to come there for coffee. I knew that man very well since my office days in the Public Works Department. He used to bring lot of gifts for our officers. I did not like Mohit’s association with him. I knocked him several times. Every time he respectfully disobeyed me. But the day, I saw him taking bribe from that contractor, I came down heavily on him. I thought that he would be listing to me like before. Believe me, I never thought in my life that he would be so harsh for me some day. He straightaway threatened me, “See, if you don’t like, I have nothing to do with it. Please make your own way then. I have been totally exhausted with your teaching. No more, please.”

Nitin takes out the handkerchief from his pocket and rinses the corners of his eyes. Uma is also seen sobbing on the stage. Suddenly the total atmosphere gets changed. A deep silence surges in. Arjee TV breaks the silence: Did you leave the bungalow immediately then?

“No”, Nitin says, “We couldn’t. We had nothing for ourselves. We already disposed of our own house. We already gave him all the money we had as he wanted all those to build his castle. Uma came out with a good advice to be aloof from all of his activities –that means “Don’t confront.” I started doing so. What else more could these two olds do who had nothing for themselves? I started being afraid of seeing Mohit. He was looking like a terror to me. Fear, hesitation and uncertainty were always following us like sniffer dogs till we left the bungalow. We never lived a normal life there. One day I came out of all these barriers when Mohit asked his mother why she could not help the maid servant. That day I became fierce and claimed my investment for the bungalow. I became very rigid ignoring Uma’s repeated request. I clearly stated him that I was not going to leave the bungalow till my payment was made. He went inside our room, took out all of our belongings and threw them outside and shifted us from the bungalow to the servant’s quarter. Uma again came between me and Mohit. That day I felt really I was physically not stronger than him. I was old. I should not confront anybody even if I see someone insulting my wife, torturing her or killing me. We kept on living in the servant’s quarter itself. But Mohit was still compassionate. Our food was never stopped. Cook used to call us for food, as if, she was calling the dogs – Jimmi…..Honnie.

Nitin’s voice gets choked. Tears again roll down. Again that wet handkerchief comes to serve Nitin. Uma comes forward with tears to comfort him. Again the silence appears.

Superstar TV interrupts the silence: You were the native of Mathura. But why did you come to Kolkata and get settled?

Nitin coughs to clear his voice and tries to make him steady.

– It was the most dreadful night we two olds passed in our lives. That day Uma was sick since early morning. I downplayed her sickness. I thought it’s a general illness only. By the morning she would be alright. But at midnight she became tremendously serious. She was shivering and sweating very badly. I immediately got the smell of an imminent heart attack. I started searching my bags madly to find a life – saving drug, if any. All on a sudden, she screamed loudly with an unbearable chest pain. My hands were trembling. I was totally nervous and puzzled. I was not finding any way out. Suddenly I rushed towards the bedroom of Mohit. I knocked at his door like a mad. I cried: Mohit, please come out. Please come out, Mohit. Your mommy is dying ….. Please come out.

Both Nitin and Uma break out with tears. For the first time Jayant Varia – the young advocate – comes up on the stage and holds them tightly on his both arms and says, “Take it easy, Daddu. Continue please.”

Nitin feels the warmth of his consolation and continues, “After some time he came out. He was totally drunk. He shouted me like a monster: Do you think I am your servant? I am not an old scrap like you so that I will have 24 hours for relaxation. My time is very precious. Understand? O-U-T. I say, you get out.

He shut his door on my face. Certainly, for ever. I was not in a position to read his words – whether they were sweet or sour. The only thing I understood was he won’t help us. My time was running out. I ran into the servant’s quarter again and found Uma was lying unconscious. There was profuse bleeding through her mouth and nose. I caught hold of her wrist with frightened mind and read her pulse. Her heart was still beating. I came running out of the gate to catch a taxi. But there was nothing but a phantomlike darkness. Luckily, I found a manual van that was parked beside the road. My hope rose. I approached to the van. It was locked with a chain. I broke the lock with a stone and brought it inside the bungalow premises……..”

His voice gets choked again. He takes long breaths repeatedly. The expansion and compression of his chest behind the shirt look quiet distinct from the distance even.

“I felt an enormous power into myself”, he says, “I lifted and placed her unconscious body on the van. She was lying very calm and quite. Unmoved, Unfazed. I tried to clean the blood from her face with my shirt. I read her pulse again. Life was still playing a feeble melody in her heart. Then I pulled the van to the hospital. Next day, our beloved son came there just to give his final verdict. We were out. In fact, I didn’t get any time then to assess the danger we were in. I realized it when Uma recovered and got released from the hospital. There was not even a small shelter for us in this big world. Few days we passed in one of our relatives’ house in Mathura. I came down on the road in quest of a job again. I could do many things that generally give immediate earning like shoe – polishing, car cleaning, selling newspapers etc. But Mathura was a small city. Many people knew me there. I really felt embarrassed to do these silly jobs there. Uma suggested to go to other city and we came to Kolkata leaving all of our belongings, our memories and the strain of Uma’s blood into that servant’s quarter.

Nitin stops with tears and takes a seat. Again Jayant appears on the stage, consoles him. Devastated Uma is seated beside Nitin. Arjee TV asks her, “Madam, you are a wife in one side and a mother in other. You are absolutely caught between crossfire. Do you really want that your son should go behind the bar and be punished? Does your heart not speak the other word?’’

Uma leaves the chair and comes before the speaker and says, “Certainly not. I may be a mother and a wife but after all I am a human. I feel thirst, hunger like others. I feel cold in winter, hot in summer like others. Please don’t consider a mother an emblem of infinite sacrifice and endurance. Everything has its own limit. When it breaks and threatens your lifeline, when you realize your back has touched the wall, when you find you have no space to step back for defense, you must have to come forward with an offensive counter. You need not see who your opponent is. Just counter and win the battle. This is the ‘Struggle for Existence’. This is the ‘Survival for the Fittest’. It’s not a sin at all. We are the humans. We have our right to live. Nobody will come and give the right in your hand as a gift. It’s you who have to conquer it. The Gods even didn’t hesitate to counter. Lord Rama didn’t attack Ravana till the later abducted Sita. Lord Krishna didn’t kill Kans till his arrogance and torture went extreme. Why? Why did They kill them? Just to establish the justice. We also want justice. We are also ready to go at any length for it.”

There was a huge applause from the crowd. People see another mother into her. They realize the temperature of the fire that converts the soft iron into hard steel. Women need to have such brave hearts so that the so called “he-mans” think twice before their attempts to get the advantage of their womanhood. She is great. The great applause of the crowd still keeps on dominating the environment.

“The last question, Mr. Trivedi.” Superstar TV comes up, “Was there any attempt for reconciliation with Mohit?”

– From my side, there was nothing. But I heard that my relative of Mathura, whom we stayed with for few days, tried once for compromise. He gave my Kolkata’s address to him also. I am totally unaware of the further development of this event, if any and we are also least bothered about it.
–
“Mr. Trivedi, such sort of incidents are being reported almost everyday. It has become a practice now. Do you think India is still ‘the Varanasi for old age’? Is it still a safe and pleasant land for the old generation?”

Nitin faces a different question from Superstar TV. He doesn’t have a ready – made reply for it. He makes himself ready and faces the reporter.

– Much contradictory, my friend. In my opinion, the heaven for the olds has drastically turned into a deadly volcano. Here we have the laws, but everybody doesn’t know it. Here we have the departments of Human Rights, but nobody campaigns for it. Here we have many strong fundamental rights, but ‘The Right to Live Happy Old age’ is not included into it. You have seen many advertisements in TV and Radio for consumer protection, child labour protection, but how many times have you seen the ad for protecting the old? Though it’s an open secret for all? The media people term it a “social evil”. But the powerful Indian youth are silent. They don’t know anything. They don’t see anything. They don’t talk anything. Do you know why? A fear. A dreadful fear. Because they all either are convicted of the same guilt or going to be. You have seen the campaigns for AIDS, Education for All, Family Planning? The wall writings, the meetings with the people, the group discussions – all you have seen with your young eyes. You have also seen the Labour Inspectors hunting for the child labour employers? But what for the olds? Nothing. Because India is deaf and can’t hear the feeble voice. It needs a huge uproar like mass agitation. It needs the terrible sound of blasting bombs. Our youth are quite brilliant! They know very well that we – the old – can’t do that. Men who walk with the help sticks can’t come on the street! Men who don’t have the vitality to pick up a glass of water can never throw a bomb! The Men who are confined in the beds of the hospitals can not climb the stairs of the Parliament. So our fortune remained in the papers only.

The conference is over. A group of the slum dwellers come to Nitin and say, “Uncle, don’t worry. You are not alone. It’s our fight too. We will remain with you till the end.” Next day, when the conference is telecasted and the news comes in the newspapers, the daily passengers’ and railways venders’ union burst into agitation. They demand to place the case on fast track. Jayant meets Nitin in the evening and says, “Daddu, have you seen the miserable condition of Mohit in the TV? Media is behind him. He is absconding. The breaking news is that he is out of station on leave. Nobody knows where he is now. Media reached even Mathura to trace him. But that bungalow is locked. Security personnel are not aware of his whereabouts.”

Nitin’s days are passing with hopes and despairs. Sometimes his old mind glitters with hope whenever he thinks of such a massive support backing him. Sometimes the fear of that Mathura Bungalow gets awaken. But he knows it’s a tough battle but he has to come out with flying colours. So far, nobody has given any rights to anybody. Everybody conquers it. So he will.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The summer in Kolkata is very terrible in June. The sun takes the shape of a ball of fire. Throughout the day it behaves like a tyrant autocrat. After the day break of the sun, moisture takes over and shows its strength and authority. The whole city suffocates. Sometimes in the evening, rain comes as a saviour. The life flourishes again.

This evening is the evening of the saviour. The city gets heavy downpour today evening. Still it drizzles. People in the slum are confined in their huts. Nitin looks very busy in repairing the leakage of the roof. Suddenly there is a knock on the door. Nitin withdraws himself from the job and opens the door. Oh, what a shocking wonder! Mohit! Mohit has come!
– Uma, come here, please. See who has come? Nitin calls Uma.
Uma comes and sees Mohit. “My God! Come, Mohit. Come inside.”

Mohit enters with an appearance of discomfort and sits on the torn sofa.

– I think, you are quite surprised to see me here. Right? Mohit says.

“Obviously.” Nitin opines, “If you find the man in your house suddenly in a dark and rainy evening whom the entire nation is looking for, you must need to be surprised.”

– What do you mean by that?

Uma finds an approaching aggression in Nitin’s eyes and interferes, “Forget that. Now tell, what’s the purpose of your visit here?”

– Obviously, not to take a warm reception of a guest!

– Of course. You know better that we are not going to give it as well.

– Very good. I am also least bothered about it. I am here just to warn you that you are walking along a dangerous path. And its consequence is unimaginably grave.

Nitin comes forward. ‘So you have appeared as a pathfinder and saviour like Lord Krishna!’
– Yes, you may consider so. You don’t know that you are playing with fire.

Nitin chuckles and says, “I know that you are really worried for us. But don’t worry, my friend. We have vast experience in dealing with the fire.”

Mohit looks aggressive, “I don’t like to listen to all such sarcastic words. See, you have tried your best to tarnish my image, to spoil my reputation that I built up with my long 20 years’ effort. But I kept myself quiet. I didn’t retaliate so far. You know, I have police, I have ministers, I have mafias in my hand. I have money. If I want …….

Nitin stops him by crossing his index finger over his lips, “Nothing. You can do absolutely nothing. Your game is over, Mohit. Now be a patient spectator and see our game. Where you end, we start from. Understand?”

Mohit guesses very easily from the reaction his parents that how hot the rod is. He thinks of changing his strategy. He moves his head. “Yes, I got it very well. That means you won’t leave me without getting the money. What do you want exactly? Compensation? How much? Tell me, how much you want. How much do you need to settle the matter? I am ready.”

Uma breaks her silence and opens mouth. “Bribe! So you have come here just to bribe us and close the case! Now your intention is clear!” She smiles. The smile of hatred. “You didn’t escape your parents even from bribe! You are really a vile worm of the sewage.”

“And you are really virtuous like god and goddess.” Mohit ridicules. “ Don’t you want money? Then what you have filed the case for? You have the hunger in your stomach and shame on the face. This is the disgusted mentality of the Indian poor.”

“Shut up, Nonsense!” Nitin reacts violently. “You are going beyond your limit. You are lucky that the case is filed. Otherwise, I would have lashed you black and blue like a chained dog. Out. I say, get out.”

Nitin gets very excited. Mohit stars at him. He never sees his parents so aggressive with him before. He understands that his mission gets failure.

“Can’t you listen?” Nitin shouts, “or you want me to call the police who work at your behest to sweep you out from here? Out, I say.”

Mohit stars at him with his round eyes and says, “I know that you are overpowered by the support of media. If you think that this is your strength, you are in fool’s paradise. In fact, you don’t know what the power is. And I will show you in the court.” Then he leaves the sofa and goes out quickly.

Nitin and Uma keep on watching his way of departure. Nitin stretches his arm around her shoulder and says, “I think, we had a great warm- up session prior to the trial in the court.”

Nitin qualifies in his acid test. He comes to know that he is strong enough for the forthcoming war. He will get a firm support from his wife even. The case has been placed in fast track court. Soon he will see the consequence. Soon Mohit will understand the power of parenthood. He is absconding – fleeing from his office and home. Nitin smiles with himself. A homeless home secretary! An officeless officer!

The day for first hearing comes. The court witnesses such a big crowd in its compound after many decades. That too, in the wake of a small personal controversy. The crowd of the slum dwellers, railway venders and daily passengers start agitating as soon as they see Mohit entering the court. Mohit experiences the shower of shoes and flip-flops all around him. Advocate Jayant Varia waves his hands for the crowd from the corridor. Now Mohit understands the source of his parents’ power. He compares it with that of his own. How much money they spend for this crowd! Where do they get the amount from? A poor railway vender! Intelligent Mohit can easily read the heartful agitation in the eyes of every person in the crowd. This can never be purchased. This is certainly earned. Mohit looks unconfident. He can’t get the support of the ministers then! No minister will be dared to go against the expectation of the people. A ghost of fear is seen in distance.

The court adjourns after first hearing. The crowd is patiently waiting outside. Jayant comes out with Nitin and Uma. “We have got a flying start today, Daddu. His malpractices and corruption has also come to the light. He has not shown the bungalow in his declaration to the Income Tax department. It would be the next hurdle for him. Of course, that’s not our look out now. What we need now is the witness of Shashi, the then servant of the bungalow, who has closely seen his tortures over you day after day. Mohit has already terminated him long back. So it’s not a difficult task to present him in the court. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to the daily passengers’ union and railways venders’ union regarding this.” Jayant says while walking.

Jayant accompanied by Nitin and Uma walks past Mohit. His body language is self-explanatory of today’s happening inside the court. Police personnel escort him through the crowd. Seeing him, the anger of the crowd takes momentum again. They rouse slogans, “Mohit Trivedi – Go Down!” The large posters held high by Nitin’s supporters don’t let Mohit go without giving a glance on them. “Mohit Trivedi – A Traitor”, “Daddu – We are with you”.

The ball keeps on rolling in Nitin’s court. Mohit suffers a great setback in between. CBI raids both of his residences in Delhi and Mathura. They recover many properties and wealth disproportionate to his income. Another case is filed against him in Delhi.
By that time, Jayant manages to bring Shashi from Mathura to Kolkata and produces him in court. Mohit leaves no stone unturned to bring the court in his favour. But all of his efforts go in vain. Finally the judgment comes after eight months.

– On the basis of the documents and witnesses and in accordance with the Criminal Penal Code, section 125 and 420, the court holds Mr. Mohit Trivedi convicted in this case for his cheating, torture and many other unkind attitudes towards his old parents. He compelled his old parents to sell their own house and grabbed that money. He is also found guilty in taking forcefully all the money they had in their bank account. Finally he has been held responsible for making them shelterless when he drove them out of his residence that caused much physical and psychological harassment to those olds. In view the offences, in compliance with the recommendation of the respective penal codes and keeping the social justice into consideration, the court is hereby penalizing Mr. Mohit Trivedi as below ………

With this declaration of the judgment, Nitin’s lobby breaks out into cheers. Cheers of justice run like waves over the crowd waiting outside the court. This Victory of Parenthood brings a feeling of renaissance in new taste. A new enthusiasm, a new relief, a new strength rejuvenate the middle class society. The normal life of this part of the city comes to a halt to mark the celebration. This legal battle takes the shape of a public revolution and its strength washes away the royal authority and influence of Mohit.

Uma doesn’t come to the court today. Nitin rushes towards his home to give this invaluable message to his wife who has been waiting for justice since last 14 years.
“U-m-a”, he shouts,”we have won the case.”
– Really? Uma comes out running with much anxiety.
Nitin embraces her tightly on his chest. “Yes Uma, we have won the case. We have won. We have taught him the lesson.”

The slum-dwellers celebrate this victory in festive manner. They beat drums, blow flutes. They sing and dance. Life has been easier than ever. Peace shines again. The relaxed old couple sits face to face in their bed room. The old struggle has become a topic of discussion today. Life is like this. Laughter remains in disguise of tears.

– What was Mohit doing after getting the judgment? Uma asks very casually.

– Standing hopelessly. His head was downed. Face was red.

– He can’t digest the defeat, isn’t it?

Nitin takes a long breath and says,” Yes.”

“It’s his drawback since the beginning. How many times we scolded him for loosing patient! Do you remember, how he was crying when he failed to come first in his fourth standard exam?” Uma recollects.

– H-u-m-h! He is still immature. Have you seen how did he behave when he came for a negotiation? He doesn’t know how to negotiate. He is still a child.

“Right.” Uma says, “He didn’t do his homework properly. First he tried to suppress us with his authority. Then, when he failed, he tried to manage it with money power. But in either case, he is failure. He couldn’t apply any of his tricks effectively. He doesn’t know.”

Uma lies on bed and rolls.

“Really.” Nitin says in a grave tone, “He is not a bad man. He never remained so. Circumstances made him what he is.” His voice gets choked.

Both are in fake effort to hide their tears from each other. Night comes in.

After few days, comes Diwali – the festival of lights. The old city has forgotten its old age today. A tremendous glow of youth on the bank of the river Ganga has defined the life in a marvelous poetic rhythm. Every hidden part of this city gets exposed with the magnificent lights. The cheer of the crackers touches the sky. Its colourful momentary appearance in the sky invites the people to join the celebration. But the clarion call of the day doesn’t reach the door step of Nitin. The light of Diwali fails to illuminate his hut tonight.

Nitin and Uma sit side by side on the sofa in their hut. They only exchange their silent glance on each other. No words in between. They look complete indifferent. They are lost in their own individual worlds.

Nitin breaks the silence and says in a dejected tone “Today is Diwali – the festival of lights. Do you know what the significance of this festival is?’’

Uma looks blankly at him. As if, she wants to listen to the reply from him only.

Nitin continues. “Today is the day on which Lord Rama came back to the palace after completing his self exile for 14 years. The people celebrated his come back with the illumination of lamps. For us also, 14 long years passed, but our Rama didn’t come back. He will never come back to us, Uma. Never. I couldn’t give you back your son. You used to call him “your angel son”. We are defeated, Uma. We are badly defeated. He has won. His ego has won.”

Nitin breaks out with tears. Uma also. The hidden tears broke its bank today.

Nitin holds Uma and says, “Do you know who is responsible for it?” Nitin points out to himself, “Me. I myself. I made him a money – making machine rather than a good human. Have you forgotten, Uma? Have you read physics? Chemistry? How many problems have you solved in Maths? Why have you scored less in English? Do you remember all these, Uma? I didn’t allow him for any creative activity. I came down heavily on him when I saw him interacting with our relatives leaving studies. I didn’t let him play. He was crying. Have you forgotten? I forced him to study when I saw him in the death possession of one of our neighbours. Do you remember? He really wanted to become a good boy, Uma. But I didn’t let him…….”

There is a flood of tears. Irresistible tears sprinkles out from their eyes violently. Uma comes forward to console him. Nitin keeps on crying like a baby and comes out. He tries to see the things that he sees every morning from his door step. But even in Diwali’s illumination, he can not see the Howrah Bridge and the Ganga today. Darkness of night has hidden them.

********** THE END *********

A work of Ankur Kanjilal