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Three Seeds - Part 1 |
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| Written by Nishant | |
| Tuesday, 08 April 2008 | |
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Share it:       The town of Chandrapur was considered – by the inhabitants – as the best place to dwell in India. All over the city there were sprawling gardens, where one could walk without being disturbed; magnanimous sculptures, at which one could gaze, when sitting idle; a great number of museums, where the townsmen can go and know about their rich cultural heritage and appreciate it. But the heart of town’s popularity lied in the fact that if you are a tourist, every passer-by possesses a generous heart towards you. Ask him the directions and he will escort you to your destination. This gave the city a good reputation in the outside world also. Mr. Bradbury, a British businessman who came to the city on a vacation, found himself very much attracted by it. He decided to construct a Nuclear Power Plant here. Accompanying the Plant, a waste-trench was constructed - in order to discard the radio-active waste. Very soon, the streets around the area became laden with animal corpses; the vegetation started dying; and it became impossible for the nearby residents to live. The philanthropists got enraged and made plans to rebel. They pled the workers to go on a strike; the workers agreed. The factory owners declined to negotiate, which caused the strike to continue much longer than predicted. Its impact on the lives of people proved to be gruesome; in some cases, fatal. For Rajesh, a low-paid worker, the factory was his only source of income. Since two months, he had been surviving on his savings.
Rajesh’s family was seated at their small dining table, feasting upon the leftovers of yesterday. Suddenly, Rahul – Rajesh’s son -- threw his spoon in the rice bowl, pushed it in front and yelled: “Mom, I can’t eat this. It’s stale! It stinks. Can’t you get us somethin’ worth eatin’?”
“Rahul, you shouldn’t talk like this to your mother. This is all we have” said Rajesh, pointing towards Neelam, his daughter, “She’s eating the same thing, yet she does not complain”
Neelam was used to such quarrels. She ignored it, and kept herself engaged with her food.
Rahul gave an angry look to his father. A minute passed between them. He then picked up his spoon and started nibbling again.
“Rahul, Neelam, I have something to tell you”, said Sheela, Rahul’s mother, who was silent till now “Sridhar will come to-day to dine with us. I expect you to behave like proper hosts”
Sridhar was also a worker in the same factory, but was placed at a much inferior post than Rajesh. There was a time when they used to be good friends. They would visit each other’s houses on every occasion, and would invite each other for dinner parties. Some time back, Sridhar used to be the driver of a rich businessman. One day, he seriously injured his right leg while saving the businessman’s daughter. The girl was unable to narrate Sridhar’s bravery to her father – she being two years old –, and he soon found himself thrown out of the job, accused of negligence while driving. He was forced to work as a sweeper in the same factory as Rajesh. He began to consider Sridhar as inferior since then. The sole purpose of his calling Sridhar to dine with them was to prevent his family from dying of hunger.
“Not again”, said Rahul, throwing back the spoon in the bowl “Why does he keep eatin’ in others houses. He came to dine with us last week also. He should eat in his own house. Hasn’t he got one of his own?” “As it is we don’t have much to eat.” mumbled Rahul.
Just like his father, Rahul was also infected with the bug of prejudice.
“Rahul, listen. Sridhar has gone through tough time because of the strike. His wife is really depressed. You know his son, Nanu, you friend. Last week he was seriously ill – on the verge of dying in fact. They are not able to feed themselves. It is our duty to give him a helping hand.”
“I hate their family”, said Rahul in a low voice, “He was the one who called for the strike”
“Rahul!” shouted Rajesh, “Its better you mind your tongue. Sridhar is a very good human being. He is doing all this for the workers.” Thought he himself didn’t believe it.
After this, no one spoke a word at the table. Rahul finished his Lunch and ran back to his room. He jumped on the bed, covered himself with the blanket and looked out through the window. His window overlooked a big and filthy trench at some distance – the same one constructed by the factory owners. On the bank of it was a banyan tree. Rahul remembered that he was the one who planted the tree, some five years back. The first thing he used to do after waking up was to gaze at the marvelous wonder of God, his tree. It had grown to unimaginable heights. But the tree was no more the same now; it was dead. It lay in front of his eyes like an ugly spot on mother earth. Earlier he would sit under the tree with his friends and play; now it wasn’t possible. The area around the tree smelt of dead rats and faeces.
“I don’t like him”, muttered Rahul “Why does he keep eatin’ eat in other people’s houses? All would have been fine if he hadn’t called for the strike. We are suffering because of him. We don’t have much to eat, and now we have to share that also with him. That . . . beggar. I hate him. His clothes stink. I don’t like Aunt also, she’s always crying since the strike. It is a bad habit for people to got around begging in other’s houses”
* * *
The door creaked open and a fat gentleman with a stick in his hand entered through it. He had difficulty in walking. Following him, a woman and a child entered.
“Hello Sridhar. I hope you didn’t have difficulty in coming”, Rajesh said with a stiff voice, not disturbing himself from his book.
“No, no difficulty-”
“What’s this? You got hurt? How did it happen”, he said looking at the white cloth that was wrapped around Sridhar’s hand.
“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry. I just … just fell down”
Rahul was sitting sunken back on his chair, looking at the happenings with disgust. Nanu was standing behind Sridhar, peeping at Rahul with his inquisitive eyes.
There was a time when Nanu and Rahul used to be good friends – in fact, the best friends. Rahul began disliking Nanu since the time his father began disliking Sridhar. The exact reason for their hatred was unknown to them. Nanu always had hopes for a better day – just like his father. He knew that one day he would pull out his friend from the well of prejudice. One day, Rahul would come to him rushing, hold his hand, take him to his room, invite him to play, show his toys . . .
But nothing as such had happened till now; Rahul kept looking at Sridhar with irritation and Nanu kept waiting for his hand to be held by his old friend. Neelam, Sheela and Meghna (Aunt) moved towards the kitchen and got themselves busy with the dinner preparations. Sridhar seated himself next to Rajesh. Nanu sat on Sridhar’s lap.
“It is all because of that . . . that greedy businessman and . . . and his big plans of making Chandrapur ‘electricity capital of the country’” said Sridhar, in a poignant voice, addressing Rajesh.
“Yes. You’re right.” Rajesh replied, uninterested.
Suddenly Rajesh stood up, and excused himself giving the reason that he had to make an urgent call. Rahul felt it was the right time to begin with the first phase of his revenge. Next to him was a side table, on which was kept Rajesh’s gold watch. It was gifted to Rajesh by his father, some seven years back. He never allowed a soul to even wander around it, let alone touching it; yet today he forgot to wear it. Rahul knew how he had to exploit Dad’s love for the watch, for his own good.
“It seems Dad forgot to wear it” he said looking towards it “he he. I got an idea! he, he. Sridhar is in big trouble now.”
Our soldier (Rahul) stood up, walked towards our enemy (Sridhar), with a bomb in his right hand, which was waiting to spur out fireworks (the watch). Our enemy, who was already injured in the hand, was unperturbed and unconcerned to the approaching danger; he seemed to welcome our soldier with a smile on his stupid face. Our soldier ran towards his enemy; then, he struck his feet with a table nearby and he fell over our enemy’s injured hand, and also placed the bomb in our enemy’s jacket. Our enemy stood up and tried best to control his shriek. Rajesh saw all this and came rushing into the room. A tear trickled down our enemy’s eyes. Rahul fell back on the sofa with satisfaction. He was successful in making the incident to look like an accident in others’ eyes.
“The watch beeps daily at 9 O’clock.” thought Rahul “He, he. Sridhar’s gonna be dead now. Dad’s gonna accuse him of theft”
“Rahul, see what you did.” said Rajesh “You should have been careful. Sridhar sit down. I’ll get some water.”
He rushed towards the kitchen and within a few seconds came back with a glass in his hand. Throughout, Sridhar didn’t utter a word, neither of pain, nor of complaint. As if, he knew all this was coming.
Rahul had always noticed one thing in Sridhar: there was always a smile of patience and satisfaction on Sridhar’s face while he went through pain. He saw it on his face when he lost his first child; when his wife almost died when she came under a horse-carriage; and last, he saw it when he fell on his injured hand. Earlier, Rahul would consider it to be the unbound self-control and patience of Sridhar’s character, but this time, it irritated him. Copyright 2008 Nishant |
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