A TRIBUTE TO SOCIETY

Mr. Khatua had been the possessor of the 5th floor apartment at Upton Park, Alipur in Kolkata for the past 30 years. Ramesh was the first guy he would turn to in the morning for the potatoes, ladyfingers and onions. Ramesh was an integral part of not only Mr. Khatua’s life but the life of all those who lived in Alipur’s bourgeoisie locality at Uptown Park. He resided in Hashnabad, got up at 3 in the morning and brought all those vegetables to Uptown Park. His daily life surrounded those who called him by his name and were of greatest politeness and humbleness to him. He sold them his best grown vegetables at the most reasonable of prices. He really loved those who were genuine to him and treated him with affection. Mrs. Sen’s Ramu her best friend whenever she was out on the streets and went marketing. It always seemed fishy to Mrs. Rai how Mrs. Sen spend so much time talking to a green grocer. This was often the topic between her and a lot of other women at the locality. “What does she have so much to talk about with a piglet such as Ramesh? Does she shed her blessings outdoors or does she shed it indoors as well?” They could crack a good joke about the relationship that the old lady shared with Ramesh and simultaneously be annoyed at the low prices Ramesh would provide to Mrs. Sen. It was not at all improbable for Mrs. Rai to think the way she did, not only she did spend her life in the confines of her apartment lamenting over the mistake of marrying Mr. Rai and the fact that she could have married the film celebrity back then. Mrs. Rai tributes her life in knowing the whereabouts of Mr. Duggal’s son rather than keeping interest in Tony’s C grade in school. It was the life she cherished along with quite a few other residents at Upton Park.

It was a day of great mourning for Ramesh and his wife. A terrible cyclone had gripped the Bangladesh border and as a result of which Hashnabad was very badly affected. A lot of people saw their lives crumbling down like a house of cards, right in front of their own eyes. Some saw their life’s achievements and savings all crash faster than a paper plane. For some this damage was not to be recovered ever again, for others it was fighting and building their castles with worn out tools. Ramesh was a recipient of nature’s fury, in a manner which was far beyond any calculation. His mother and wife had sought to tears to bring out their emotions, but even that was not an option for him. He cried within himself, without letting anybody know about the trauma and the thousand drops of tears that filled his veins at that point in time, after all he was the backbone of his. Rokesh was on course to be the topper of his school in the upcoming board exams and Rojesh had just gained interest in his studies, he was in class two. The destructive advocate of nature’s fury had destroyed his source of income and livelihood, his farm. The farm, in which, he much cherished his work. The farm in which one day he dreamt of putting up mechanical devices and tools so that the work of his son and himself would be much reduced. The farm that was his asset, his pride was beyond recognition amongst the debris and confines of hurricane burdened Hashnabad. He watched on, as the van took away the people of the locality to the nearby re-habilitation centre where they will be nourished until the government came to their rescue. Rescue which as elaborate as it may sound was nothing more than the supply of dry food, inadequate in amount and hard to come by(sometimes even once a week).

Ramesh’s misery went on for quite a few weeks, as days went by, rescue became bleaker and bleaker, known faces began to perish and got buried under the soil of poverty and hunger and disease. As things went from bad to worse, Ramesh looked towards the only place he could seek help and expect to get any, Upton Park. He arrived at the market place after a period which quite visibly did not have an effect on the progress of any of his previous regular customers. He stood there by the side looking on, as a new guy took his place, his absence had clearly gone against his business propositions. He stood there for quite a while as Mrs. Rai entered the scene, her glances at the passer-bys and flat mates who had gone marketing was the usual like Ramesh had left them a month back. He approached her, hoping that she might cheer out that Ramesh was back again. He was quite a favorite amongst them because of his good behavior and sober manner. As he called her out, Mrs. Rai looked behind and her amazement was below par as per Ramesh’s expectations. “Oh you, so you’re back? Good.” As soon as Ramesh was about to begin with “Begum…” Mrs. Rai caught sight of Mrs. Mullick and perpetually ran in her direction. Mr. Khatua, in his usual Bermuda and half-sleeve tee-shirts was doing the rounds of the market, when a voice, “Sahib, how are you?” distracted him. He looked around and found the familiar face of Ramesh. He smiled and cheered him and questioned him on his absence, when Ramesh explained what transpired at Hashnabad because of the hurricane, Mr. Khatua could only manage “Oh my god! Ups and downs are a part of life my child, we have to deal with them and exist. Don’t lose hope and move forward. You will succeed.” Even the aged Mr. Khatua turned a blind eye toward him. Similar reactions also came through from Mr. Das and Mrs. Dutta went a step ahead in saying that it could a publicity stunt in order to gain money.

Ramesh found no reason in standing there and asking for help from people who desired to be of no help at all. He stood there as an innate object, who was shocked and flummoxed at the reaction he got from the bourgeoisie society who he served for the past twelve years. A voice called out to him, the voice was known to his ears, the voice of Khalid, who alongside Ramesh served the same society as a shoe mender. The voice asked him to have a seat and a drink of water, water which Ramesh very desperately needed at that point in time. Khalid crept into his pocket and produced to Ramesh at handful of 10 rupee bills, “keep them and spend them wisely,” he sat their and all his emotions and frustration crept out of him in the form of tears which he so remarkably had hid inside of his self, covered with a layer of pseudo-strength. In a soft voice he said, “Thank you Khalid bhai, may god bless you.” Khalid was this character which epitomizes and characterizes the thoughtful and caring section of the human society. Against all odds he decides against turning away from his colleague and friend and step up when others, with particular larger portions of money have decided to step down.

Ramesh did return to Alipur another couple of times, but did not receive any help for any of the residents except for a certain Khalid. He returned home with nothing but free promises and lectures on the difficulties of life and lessons on dealing with them. The lessons certainly did not fill up Ramesh’s, his wife’s, his mother’s, Rokesh or Rojesh’s hunger. A few months passed likewise and slowly his mother breathed her last. Poverty and despair took the better of her. One fine day, rescue did arrive at the re-habilitation center, with food and cloths and water, but again they were inadequate. People ran in all directions to fetch at least a bite of the food or a blanket to shell out the cold. The man’s journey was limited to these rescue teams and when they sought out to get a source of living necessities, one man jumped onto another and all hell broke loose. Ramesh stumbled onto the floor and a foot stamped his face and then another on his throat, and quite a few more landed on his body and his breath had run its last race. His body quit his discomforted life and he was no more.

When the scene returned to Upton Park, people were busy with their daily lives, then turned from Ramesh to a Suresh for those fresh vegetables, and nobody turned even to check whether the man ever returned. Khalid sat there stitching his shoes and his work load was immense, he looked to his left for the old friend and wiped the two drops of tears he shed.