Kumar’s Dream

Short Story with Moral Lesson – Kumar’s Dream

Life in Kochi was tough. It was hot every day of the year. The rains brought temporary relief from the months of June through to August, however the humidity was still unbearable. It was getting tough for Kumar to run his mobile restaurant during the rainy season, so to supplement his pani puri shop, he used to also sell tea and coffee during the rains.

In Kerala, there were a lot takers for his Pani Puris and other typical North Indian fare. It was priced at around 10 rupees a plate. It was spicy to suit the palate of the people in Kochi. Kumar used to maintain his shop close to the Bars to attract the people who used to frequent the alcohol shops.

Kumar used to run his shop from the evening to late at night. He used to prepare all the required masala in the day. His rented one room was in a small slum like dwelling. In Kochi there were no slums though like he had seen in Mumbai. He had stayed in Dharaavi, the biggest slum in the world for around 3 years before coming to Kochi. He had two sisters back home and a mother who had all sorts of health problems. He used to save around 3000 a month after his expenditure and send it back home. It was bare minimum amount that was just about enough to survive. He loved meat, however that was hard to get. He would not eat Beef which was available in abundance in Kochi and that too at cheap prices. Being raised in a Hindu family in North India at times stood in the way of eating the animal that was worshipped most.

It was another typical day in Kochi. There was nothing different in that day. Kumar pushed out his cart on to the road. His neighbourhood drunkard Surendran, who was a watchman in one of the highrises, was as usual lying near an open gutter. Kumar grinned at the sight and kept going. It was around 6 pm that day a little later than usual. Kumar had all the onions and the tomatoes cut in the afternoon so that the mixing was the only part that was left to him.

As Kumar pushed his cart towards the Jetty, he saw a bag lying with its zipper open. He parked his cart and went towards the bag. He checked if there was anyone around. There was nobody. He had heard about the anti social elements doing the rounds there.

‘What was this lying near the jetty? How come there was no one around?’ Kumar thought to himself.

He had read several articles of dead bodies cut into pieces shoved into bags, or worse still bombs that would go off on the smallest of contact.

‘I just hope that this is not a problem bag’ Kumar thought.

Kumar looked into the bag and saw that there was a lot of gold.

‘God has finally heard my prayers. I am rich now’

He took the bag and hid it in his torn shirt and went and put it in the box under his cart. As if nothing happened Kumar pushed his cart sweating and his heart pounding from what he had found. That day he escaped a beat down from many customers. The reason was he gave spicy fare to people who wanted medium spicy food and sweet to people who wanted the spicy variant.

Finally, it was the end of the business. It was a good day for business too. Though what he made was not good that day, he was happy in his heart and a nice feeling of joy overcame him.

With each passing police patrol vehicle his heart beat would increase. Screeetch!!! Suddenly a police van stopped by. Kumar was sweating. A huge bungling cop with a big pot belly stepped down from the cop. He looked at Kumar with a torch that was pointed right on his face.

‘Where are you off to at this time?’ He thundered.

Kumar replied..’Just shut shop, saare’ he said in his broken Malayalam.

The cop was far from convinced. He yelled, ‘not a single plate of your stuff left?’

Kumar replied in the negative, but stopped the cop who was angrily getting back into the van stating.

‘I can make you a plate of masala puri… A little masala remains’.

‘You are going to give me the leftovers, you scumbag?’ The cop thundered.

Kumar was so quick with his hands that he prepared the masala puri and offered the cop who fell for it.

‘It is nice,’ the cop said smacking off all the remaining drops of the plate. He started reaching for his pocket, when Kumar stopped him and said that it is on the house.

After seeing off the cop, Kumar continued relieved as only a few steps off was his house. He took a couple of the dabbas that were remaining and then headed into the house hiding the bag under his shirt.

After staying in Kerala for sometime, he had the typical reaction ‘Havoo’ he said and he closed the door and bolted it and pulled all torn curtains. He slowly took out the bag from under his clothes and opened it.

‘Wow..So much gold and cash’, he had never seen this much of gold or cash ever. He emptied the contents on to a blanket and started sifting through. There was an address in the bag too on an inland letter. On it was written an address. The address was known to him. It was Mushtaq who lived barely 10 houses from his house.

‘Could this be?’ He thought to himself. Mushtaq’s sister was getting married in a week, could it be that this gold was theirs. Why should I give what I found. I can get my sisters married off with this money.

Mushtaq’s family lived in poverty, however they had arranged all the money for the only daughter Zubaida’s Nikah. The bag was snatched by a thief from Mushtaq who must have thrown it near the jetty. The thief must have thought that he would return and take it.

The next day Kumar heard wailing and crying from Mushtaq’s house. It was difficult for Kumar to stop listening to it.

“How could I take something which belonged to someone else ?”

Kumar could not even work in peace on that day. He just decided he would not open his shop that day. He went to the jetty and sat next to the shore. Thoughts ran through his mind. His family would be happy if they got this, however Mushtaq’s family, what about them?

Another day went by and Kumar still did not run his business. The drunkards and his usual customers waited and left. There was a sea of gloom in Mushtaq’s house. He had lodged a complaint in the police station. Kumar now decided he had enough of this. The following day, by nightfall, Kumar went and slid the bag through the window of Mushtaq’s house.

The next day when Kumar woke up he could hear smiles and rejoices. It was from Mushtaq’s house. Kumar smiled to himself. In the evening it was business as usual. It was so good to be back to normal, he thought. Perhaps people like us, should always work hard and earn our money. Hard earned money always makes one happy. Kumar was one of the first at Mushtaq’s sister’s wedding and everyone was happy at the end of the day.

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