A summer afternoon in the highly humid streets of Calcutta was really tiresome. And despite, the scorching heat, and the sparkling white burning rays of the sun, life went on as if in a trance. Bhado, the rickshaw puller of the Calcutta streets, earned his living by dragging the hand-pulled two wheeled rickshaws, which could only be found in the city of Calcutta.
The bare feet of Bhado, and the cracks in them had almost turned numb after the entire day's toil. The shadow that the afternoon sun had cast of the tall two storied buildings of British make were providing the shelter for these rickshaw pullers. This wait was either rewarding, for if they did not wait, passengers would choose taxis, or was heartbreaking if no passengers arrived at all.
A woman with a toddler baby approached Bhado. Due to the sweaty humid atmosphere, every one started to grab a glass of the sugarcane juice to quench the fierce thirst. Her lips started to dry up as soon as she drenched them with a smooth and sophisticated lick, by rolling her lips inwards and salivating it. This was the time, when the small kid in her lap, presumably, her own baby, shook his little legs, and her purse fell down on the streets.
The woman, unaware, that her purse had fallen, asked Bhado whether he would go. Bhado asked the woman to sit on the seat, as he went over to the other side from where the lady jumped on and secretly took the purse that had fallen of her side bag, and tucked it in his dhoti folds close to his waist.
The lady sat on the cushioned red covered seat very cautiously and took extreme care while hanging onto the bars aside so that she did not fall over with the kid while the rickshaw was being dragged up by Bhado. Bhado entered in between the long forked pulling legs of the rickshaw and started to drag it infront cantering through the sun burnt streets of Calcutta barefooted.
The kid in her lap spasmodically kept laughing while the lady tried to play with the kid, enjoying the ride on hand-pulled rickshaw. After crossing several junctions and crossings, they came to Chowringhee and in the next turning, she asked Bhado to proceed. Then she reached her home. Several kids were waiting for the lady. She searched for the purse and couldn't find it. She could realise that she must have misplaced it somewhere. So, she went in, and brought a ten rupees note and handed it over to the rickshaw puller.
As he turned his rickshaw and was about to leave, a familiar shrill voice came from behind. He turned to see his daughter calling him. He was surprised to see her over there at this evening hour. His daughter came infront of him and and to his shock, she introduced her teacher, the lady with the kid, to him. He never imagined that the lady, whose purse he had tucked in his dhoti, was the Rita Madam who taught his daughter free of cost.
A sudden cold shudder ran through his tired sweating body. And he silently left, ashamed. Stuck by an unfelt and unseen force, he couldn't give the purse back to her, ever. He couldn't understand what held him back. Could it be the inadequacy of his position to express gratitude to the lady? Was it his inferiority? Or was it sheer lack of courage? His heart felt as numb as his feet, as he dragged his empty rickshaw in the summer streets of Calcutta.
The bare feet of Bhado, and the cracks in them had almost turned numb after the entire day's toil. The shadow that the afternoon sun had cast of the tall two storied buildings of British make were providing the shelter for these rickshaw pullers. This wait was either rewarding, for if they did not wait, passengers would choose taxis, or was heartbreaking if no passengers arrived at all.
A woman with a toddler baby approached Bhado. Due to the sweaty humid atmosphere, every one started to grab a glass of the sugarcane juice to quench the fierce thirst. Her lips started to dry up as soon as she drenched them with a smooth and sophisticated lick, by rolling her lips inwards and salivating it. This was the time, when the small kid in her lap, presumably, her own baby, shook his little legs, and her purse fell down on the streets.
The woman, unaware, that her purse had fallen, asked Bhado whether he would go. Bhado asked the woman to sit on the seat, as he went over to the other side from where the lady jumped on and secretly took the purse that had fallen of her side bag, and tucked it in his dhoti folds close to his waist.
The lady sat on the cushioned red covered seat very cautiously and took extreme care while hanging onto the bars aside so that she did not fall over with the kid while the rickshaw was being dragged up by Bhado. Bhado entered in between the long forked pulling legs of the rickshaw and started to drag it infront cantering through the sun burnt streets of Calcutta barefooted.
The kid in her lap spasmodically kept laughing while the lady tried to play with the kid, enjoying the ride on hand-pulled rickshaw. After crossing several junctions and crossings, they came to Chowringhee and in the next turning, she asked Bhado to proceed. Then she reached her home. Several kids were waiting for the lady. She searched for the purse and couldn't find it. She could realise that she must have misplaced it somewhere. So, she went in, and brought a ten rupees note and handed it over to the rickshaw puller.
As he turned his rickshaw and was about to leave, a familiar shrill voice came from behind. He turned to see his daughter calling him. He was surprised to see her over there at this evening hour. His daughter came infront of him and and to his shock, she introduced her teacher, the lady with the kid, to him. He never imagined that the lady, whose purse he had tucked in his dhoti, was the Rita Madam who taught his daughter free of cost.
A sudden cold shudder ran through his tired sweating body. And he silently left, ashamed. Stuck by an unfelt and unseen force, he couldn't give the purse back to her, ever. He couldn't understand what held him back. Could it be the inadequacy of his position to express gratitude to the lady? Was it his inferiority? Or was it sheer lack of courage? His heart felt as numb as his feet, as he dragged his empty rickshaw in the summer streets of Calcutta.
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