47

Ramu, in his early fifties with all that thick beard and moustaches is seeing the world with the curious eyes of a child. As he looks around, he wonders how the world has changed and how different it looks. He's back again in those shabby pants and shirt in which he was arrested twelve years back and was confined to a jail. He was returned his Rs.800/- which he had in his trouser pocket at that time.

"The value of money is no more the same," he thinks while sitting at a small eatery and the bill for eating six chappatis and half plate of chicken dish came out to be Rs.350/-

"I used to spend a good whole week with just Rs.600/- in the pocket. Now everyone talks in thousands. Strange!!" he exclaimed.

In the last twelve years of his life, Ramu was completely cut off from society-he had spent nearly more than one decade of his life languishing behind bars. After eating to his heart's content he made his way to the nearest metro station to catch a train to his home in Jahangirpuri, where he thought that Gauri must be waiting for him anxiously over there. As he reached his destination, he found the door of his house to be locked. He went to the neighbor aunty's house only to find that she's no more in this world. She had died seven years back. He thought of going to his landlord's house which was in the next block. Reaching there, he knocked the door of the landlord's house. After a few minutes a frail looking old man in his late sixties came out to meet him.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" enquired the man in his feeble voice.

Ramu could recognize the features of his landlord. He wished him with folded hands.

"Namaste Sahib, don't you recognize me? I am Ramu, your tenant who was staying with my wife Gauri in room no.4 in the next block say about twelve years back."

The old man kept on staring at Ramu with eyes full of surprise. At last, when he recognized him he said, "But your wife vacated the room nearly eleven years back. I'd heard that she was working somewhere in Chandni Chowk in a garments shop. You better check over there and you'll find your wife." Saying this he turned back to bolt the door of his house.

Ramu kept on standing like a fool at his doorstep for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. After sometime he decided to go to Chandni Chowk and search for Gauri. He boarded the metro to reach the place. On reaching, he started visiting each and every garment shop asking about Gauri, whether she worked there or not but was given a blatant refusal by all. Ultimately, he reached the store where Gauri used to work. He wanted to make a last try. The doorman at the big store was quite an old man and seemed as if he'd been working there for a long time.

"Chacha," addressing the old man he asked, "Does a woman named Gauri work here?"

The old man sternly looked into his eyes and said, "Yes, she used to, but from the last more than ten years she is our employer's wife. Our employer married her long time back as he himself was a widower."

Ramu stood there dumbfounded, struggling to come to terms with reality. Reintegration for him was not easy.

He trudged his way to the main Old Delhi Railway Station where he laid down himself on the platform floor to spend the night. Next day morning after buying a glass of tea and some bread from the railway vendor he made his way again to the bazaars of Chandni Chowk making desperate attempts to find a job for himself, but seeing his condition of shabbily dressed and a big beard flowing freely on his face, he was denied the job in any of the outlets over there.

"But, where do I get a job? I neither have money nor do I know which job will I fit into," thought Ramu murmuring to himself.

With none to look forward for and in a state of confusion he decided to go back to his village. In the evening and with whatever meager sum of Rs.430/- left in his pocket, he boarded the state transport bus for village Shamli, buying the ticket for Rs.410/-. It was an overnight journey; he sat by the window of the bus. As the bus picked up speed and the wind brushed upon his face, his head started swirling in thoughts and tears welled up eyes.

"My world has become a million shattered pieces put together, now which have to be glued by my tears, where each piece is nothing but a reflection of myself. I'd really been a bad husband, a bad friend and a cheater to my wife Tara. I'm just left only with the shattered fragments too small to piece back together and now those shards have become my character and my marks of distinction. This storm in my life has really ripped me apart and now I feel I'm a diluted version of myself, just like the water seeping from a broken pot. I exist but have no form to hold me in place," murmured Ramu, talking to himself with warm tears flowing freely on his hairy face. He kept on looking out of the window with a bruised heart.

In the middle of the night the bus stopped outside a 'dhaba'. Ramu got down to buy himself a glass of tea and some bread with whatever amount he's been left with. He hadn't eaten anything since morning. He washed his face from the nearby tap. Feeling fresh, he came back to his seat and resumed his onward journey.

Early morning at 5.30am he reached his destination, i.e. his village Shamli. Alighting from the bus he was astounded to see the big changes that had taken place all around. There were pucca roads with new lamp posts giving out illumination on the deserted road and the sideways were beautifully decorated with flowers in their full hue. Walking slowly with heavy steps typically because of exhaustion he reached his house. To his astonishment there was a big padlock hanging on the door and a small sign board depicting the name both in English and hindi 'Sitara Jaswal (Deputy Collector)'. In awe he read the plate and couldn't believe his eyes. He read it over and over again.

From a distance, he could see a young man approaching in his direction. Ramu waited for a while to let him come near him and as he came in an audible distance Ramu stammered, "Son, Tara and her daughter used to live here, where are they now and why this house is locked?"

The young man replied, but with hesitation, "This house, they left around a year back to reside in the big city. Sitara Jaswal is now the Deputy Collector of whole of Una district. She and her mother don't have the time to come back to their old home." Saying this, he walked away.

Ramu didn't know what to do and kept on standing there only. His guilty thoughts flashed backwards when he had cheated on Tara. But no matter how much guilt or remorse a cheating person expresses outwardly, everyone feels it inwardly to some extent and that's what Ramu had felt. Out of shame and disgust he never knew where would he go now as the whole village was aware of his infidelity and internally he knew well, that the village people will never forgive him. Then he thought of hiding his identity, and like a stranger he made his way to a temple of Goddess Durga a few meters away where Tara frequented the most.

On reaching the temple he sat on the steps like a beggar with hands spreading out for alms. The village folks coming in the temple for offering their morning prayers put a coin of Rs.1/- or 50 paisa in his hands. By 10.00am the temple wore a deserted look. With nearly Rs.12/- collected by him till then Ramu got up to go and eat something from the market nearby. The same routine followed in the evening with no one to recognize Ramu. Everyone thought of him as a beggar. By 9pm the temple shut for the day and the priest locked the doors tightly.

Ramu got up slowly from the stairs and made his way to the platform of the temple. He lay down there but not having a wink of sleep as the cool winds had started flowing by then, and he started shivering from the cold. He lay still like a ball keeping his hands between his legs trying to ward off the cold winds.

Early morning at 4 o'clock the priest came out draped in a blanket and opened the doors of the temple only to find Ramu trembling and shivering of cold outside on the temple platform. Immediately he went inside and brought out a thick blanket and wrapped Ramu with it. Slowly the warmth returned in the shivering body of Ramu. He opened his eyes to see the angel who had bestowed this kindness on him. Then with a feeble voice he asked the priest, "Can I have some tea and something to eat?"

The priest went inside and brought out some 'prasad' that of ladoos and made a glass of tea for him. After devouring the tea and 'prasad' Ramu stood up and touched the feet of the priest for his tender heartedness and warm affection.

"Who are you, and where are you from?" asked the priest in a loving tone.

"For your queries I ask your forgiveness as I won't be able to tell you my identity but promise I'll, one day when I come out clean of my misdeeds," said Ramu politely.

Hearing this, the priest quietly moved away into the temple and started bathing the idol of the Goddess while chanting 'mantras'. In the meanwhile Ramu came down from the platform and sat on the steps while wrapping the blanket tightly on his head and torso. By 7am the devotees started pouring in for prayers and while returning, putting some coins into the spreaded hands of Ramu.

Months passed and Ramu followed the same routine day in and day out. In the late evenings when the temple was closed for the day he used to sit with the priest on the platform and chat for nearly half an hour daily about the village and their residents.

One evening as they were sitting together the priest asked, "You know plenty of things about this village. Had you been staying here? And I can feel that you have a great love for this place."

Ramu gave a silly smile and silently lay down on the platform. "Oh yes, I forgot to tell you that I'll be going to Rakkar tomorrow for a couple of days to perform the wedding rites of Sitara, our deputy collector. Tara, her mother has especially sent me a letter of request to come over for the same. So, the temple will be closed for two days and tomorrow I have to catch the bus to reach there after I close down the temple by 10 in the morning," confided the priest.

On hearing the name of Tara and their daughter Sitara, Ramu lost himself in his thoughts of going through something so devastating as he did. He started murmuring to himself, "Throughout the first year of our marriage, we created the most beautiful memories. We both climbed all the way to the top together, only to slip and fall as soon as we got there. And yes, I was the only one who contributed to that fall."

Ramu wanted to bang his head into the rock in frustration after thinking about how he had ditched Tara and how he had left the new born Sitara to be tended by her mother only, with no money. But he didn't do so and instead slapped his own face hard just to punish himself. The whole night he stayed awake and decided to go to Rakkar himself to witness the marriage of his daughter with his hidden identity.