By Savitri Narayanan
“Go slow, it’s only nine o’clock,” Sub-Inspector Mahindra turned to the driver, “Since there was no traffic jam at the junction so we’re ahead of time!”
He was on his way to meet the Panchayat President. Having reported for duty at the Kherbaug police station three months ago, Mahindra was still in the process of connecting with the local community. Deep in his heart Mahindra was pleased about his posting as Kherbaug was close to his heart. Years ago, he had done his graduation from the government college there. Nostalgia about his student days was growing and Mahindra was looking forward to being there again. Incidentally, the road to the Panchayat Bhavan passed through Milan Wadi.
Like any other place, Kherbaug too had changed with development. Many more buildings and shops had come up. There were many more vehicles on the road too. Mahindra could not find any of his familiar landmarks! Where was the Colonel’s bungalow? Where was the playground? And the mango orchard?
“Isn’t that the Durga mandir?”
“Yes, sir,” said the driver.
“And there behind that road was the soap factory, right?”
“Yes sir, the soap factory closed down long ago, a hotel stands there now.”
As they drove through the lanes, Mahindra‘s mind went back to his college days.
In retrospect, that was a difficult period in his life.
“Continue your studies and get a good job,” Pitaji often said, “Don’t end up a shopkeeper like me!”
So, after completing his schooling, Mahindra joined the college in Kherbaug to do his graduation. It was too far from the village and the buses were not very frequent so daily travel up and down was not a good idea. So, Mahindra stayed with three friends in a rented room and they shared the rent. Unexpectedly Pitaji had a stroke and was bedridden. Maaji tried but was unable to run the shop so had to find other ways to earn an income. She found work in the three bungalows nearby either cleaning or working in their gardens.
Mahindra too rose to the occasion. He had confided in his friends and moved out of the rented room. One of Pitaji’s old friends saved his day! At their large bungalow there was an unused small room where he was allowed to stay. With his clothes and books, Mahindra moved in there. In the corner of the room, he had a kerosene stove where he cooked his meals. It was tough to make ends meet. After his classes in college, while his friends went home or roamed around, Mahindra gave tuition to three school children. It was crucial to complete his graduation and get a good job so that Maaji’s days would be more comfortable. Mahindra planned to clear the PSC test, so also attended the coaching classes. At sundown on the way back home, he would stop by to pick up the necessary things to cook his dinner.
“There was a vegetable seller somewhere here,” said Mahindra, “He sat under the mango tree.”
“Yes sir, there’s an old man who sits near the barber’s shop.”
“Oh! yes, there was a barber’s shop too.”
The bearded, smiling face of Khurshid Kaka rose in Mahindra’s mind.
On the way back from the coaching class when Mahindra stopped by for some vegetables, he would say, “Here, take these betey!”
“How much, uncleji?” Mahindra had asked.
“Nothing! It’s for you betey! Stay away from bad company, focus on your studies!”
As the days passed, Mahindra realised how Khurshid Kaka made it a practice to put aside slightly rotten vegetables. No customer would buy them. Usually on his way back home Khurshid Kaka would have given it to Bhandariji’s cattle but now it was saved for Mahindra. Under the circumstances it was God-sent for Mahindra. Soon he stopped asking the price, instead took out the cloth bag from his backpack and carried the bounty home!
There he was, older, weaker and rather frail, under the same tree. Khurshid Kaka had grown bald under his turban, his beard had grown almost white, but the smile on his face was still the same!
“Stop for a minute, I need to talk to him!”
All eyes were on the police jeep as it pulled up beside the vegetable-seller. Mahindra opened the door and got out with his baton, attracting more attention.
“Namaskaar, Khurshid Kaka,” said Mahindra “It’s me!”
Khurshid Mian looked surprised and a little frightened too.
“I was a struggling student, used to stay there beyond the Durga Mandir and you were very helpful to me those days!”
Khurshid Mian put his palm over the forehead to take a closer look at Mahindra.
“Kaka, without your help I would have gone hungry!”
“You’re that boy from Meerut who wanted to become a policeman.”
“Yes, I’m that boy, and I’m a policeman today thanks to good people like you. I can never thank you enough for putting food on my table.”
God is kind, betey, glad to see you’ve become a policeman, your dream has come true!”
Khurshid Mian turned to the small crowd that had collected by then, “Hardworking boy he was! Morning to college, then to give tuition and then to study at the coaching class! And now he’s come back as a policeman!”
All looked at him with respect.
“I need to go, have a meeting,” said Mahindra and got into the police jeep.
(Savitri Narayanan is a retired educationist at present in Goa. A mother and grandmother, loves reading, writing and travelling.)
