It was a chilly December morning. Winter was at its peak. The hands of my wristwatch made a right angle indicating it was 3 AM. I was waiting for the cab on the road. I could see no one except my shadow following me under the bright lights of halogen street lamps. Having underestimated the chill of the season I was out in the cold without my jacket. I was looking for some warmth around while rubbing my palms with the hope in the friction phenomenon to generate enough heat to protect me.
I might have walked a few meters then I saw a flare behind the large sign board which usually acts as barricade for construction sites. I just went closer to the fire. “Come young man! It’s too cold out there!” to my surprise there was a man sitting near the fire. He had wrapped his entire body in the thick cloth like a bed sheet. He was playing with the Embers with a small wooden stick, blowing the cinders gently in one direction ,adding papers and sticks to the fire. He held his palms close to the fire and rubbed them gently, once in a while he was exhaling some air just to look at the foggy breath and realize the cold. He must have been in his fifties. Without saying a word I just went near the fire ,held my palms close to it and experienced relief. My eyes were still alert and at work. I was a bit cynical about who this man was and what was he doing at that place at 3AM. I looked around like Vyomkesh Bakshi, in search of any clues I could find. But there was no weapon, no stolen articles, nothing much suspicious. “This man is not what you think Bakshi babu” I told myself.
A few minutes passed without any conversation. My arrogant pride stopped me from talking to the stranger for some time, but at last I broke the silence. The discussion started with a brief talk on how cold Pune had become and so on. After that generalized discussion, I inferred that the man was an interesting character in itself. “Who are you? What are you doing here? Where do you come from? ” I emptied all my arsenal of Wh-questions to him. He was calm as if unaffected by the questions about his identity and his details, slowly pulling one more ember near the fire he started answering all of them for me.
He was speaking without looking at me, may be making me feel less important than the fire he was looking after, I thought.
“I come from a small village 650 KM away from here. I serve as a night watchman here at this construction site. Earn 80 Rs. a day. But do not be surprised sir. I do not expect anything more than what they are paying me. It’s very obvious for you to think that I must have come from the village in search of work to earn living for me and my family, but that’s not the case. I am a free man, the follower of my will and wishes. Thankfully those wishes are not as big or as evil as they are for the educated people I find here. Starting from my childhood I always wanted to see the cities and experience what they call a city-life. But as usual the economic condition played its own game just to leave us incarcerated in poverty and drudgery. My son is 20 years old. He goes to school as well as works for the local shop owner. He earns enough for three of us to survive. So I decided to stop working and doing something I always wanted to do. I did not want to be the freeloader depending on my son either, So one day I simply boarded a truck from my place to this city. In day time I wander around the place and in the night I come here to do my job. My journey starts with a few simple questions to the rickshaw drivers and small shop owners about what is famous in the city and where it is located, I keep following the direction that people show me to reach the place I want to visit. I observe people, observe their behavior, their haste and their arrogance towards people like me. I appreciate whatever new I see here, it could be anything ranging from a big television in the electronic shop to the nice looking cars with some expressionless people sitting inside it. I spend time at temples, forts and come back by the night here again.These 80 Rs. make sure I eat something that day and keep some for my next journey. That’s all about me sir. Today I am here ,tomorrow may be at some other big city. I am Happy this way so life goes on …”.
Now he had stopped talking but I was unaware of that. His honest words and simplicity had made me think curiously about his way of living. He was living without the worries of everyday affairs. It did not bother him what the Sensex was going through. He was simply doing what he wanted to do, without any jealousy for what richer people had that he didn’t. No free opinions on how the government was doing its tasks and how should we develop our country. Not at all pretending to be something he was not. Not a single attempt to gain sympathy for his poor family. “Simply Satisfied and Happy” I thought.
“Take this ..” his words attracted my attention again. He was holding an old stainless still glass having uneven surfaces and contours all along its periphery. May be it reflected the wear and tear it had gone through throughout this man’s travel. I saw some vapors coming out of the glass. It was the black tea that he had made on those cinders and residues of the fire. I sipped the tea. It was only hot water, a spoon of sugar and tea powder without any milk. But it tested well, especially in that chilled environment it was more than a luxury for me. My cell phone rang, it was the driver waiting for me near the stop. I hastily finished my tea and thanked the man before leaving.
It was 4 AM now and he was still sitting in the same calm posture sipping tea from his glass and enjoying the warmth of the Fire while I was hurrying for the office.
Devendra.blog 