On faces and disposition! 7

Image: Source

Based on a true story.

One day I boarded a DTC bus that was going towards Red Fort via Delhi Gate. The road which attached the two roads was another road called Daryaganj.

I received my dad's phone call and he asked me at what time would I reach our shop near the Red Fort? I told him, it would take around fifteen to twenty minutes to be there.

As the bus was going on its route, suddenly it turned right instead of the straight road it was accustomed to take. The passengers asked the bus driver regarding what was the matter and they searched for a possible reason to understand his very act. While the passengers were passing glances at one another, the bus driver himself stopped the bus. He waved his hand towards the road that was not taken but was meant to be taken. It was jammed with traffic, and I felt that somewhere it was a wise decision to take the other road, but the passengers like me who were going toward Red Fort had to get down or remain in the bus, to get down at the other juncture, and walk from there to our respective destinations. It was alright for me to walk if traffic couldn't move smoothly from there, but I didn't get down. I thought it was alright to get down at the later juncture.

All this while, my eyes met a man in white kurta-pyjama. He was not being able to get up on his own from the seat, whereon he was seated. His fellow passenger helped the old man get up, but it was hard time to make him get down from the bus. How could he walk down to Daryaganj? He wasn't able to walk without anyone's support that too with very much difficulty. I went near him as the bus stopped. A passenger was helping the old man to get down from the bus on the red light. He could take a rickshaw from there on, to reach his home. But to my surprise the old man stepped again in the bus with two men supporting him to walk up till his seat this time. In sometime, we reached the intersection of the road, and we knew it was where the old man had to get down, and reach his home all by his own. This very thought baffled me in and out. His eyes were weak, his body trembling at the sight of loneliness so grave.

I helped him in getting down from the bus, and one man helped him along with me. The passengers in the bus till that time were confused regarding how the old man would deal with the situation, when I would step into the bus leaving him alone there.

Anyway I didn't return to the bus but stayed there with him. People had some faith in me as their eyes were satisfied to find me standing next to the old man. I held his hand and he held me back, as his only source of energy in that moment came from my presence. I felt the warmth in his hand against my hand, but his body weak and fragile. Soon the bus left. We were standing by the roadside while I called a rickshaw-wallah as he reversed the direction of his rickshaw to come towards us. This was really kind and gentle of him. But he must be acquainted with such incidents everyday, when he would be helping other old men and women just the way he came forward selflessly, I thought. He helped the man sit on the rickshaw and I supported him by holding his feet, to make them reach on the rickshaw floor. I sat next to him, and in his trembling voice he whispered, 'Golcha Cinema'. The richshaw moved and I kept on holding the old man's hand.

In his button eyes, there were dreams, there were sufferings, there were wishes intertwined. I could sense in his warm hands a lot of strength even after going through all the pain and physical suffering. I had overheard few passengers comment on this man's condition, on how his family members had left him all alone, to whatnot. I had felt bad too.

The man spoke again, and I trembled this time to his high pitched voice. He was just trying to interpret his words, but they weren't clear to be understood at the first go. "I am from, Farrukabad". " I had come to the Supreme Court this morning and while getting down from the bus, I had fallen and hurt my back. You're Allah's taufa(gift) to me. He sent you to save me from ills. You are a good man. Allah will bless you, my child. " I thanked him wholeheartedly for his love and blessings, and understood his story far better. I wanted him to stay calm and not worry for me, but he kept on talking, asking questions from me. The man who was in pain, who was silent all that while had held my hand with such force and had cared for me. I couldn't have asked God for more. Such a man, with his deep little eyes spoke volumes to me. "Where were you going? Which place? Do you live here?" As he asked, I understood and tried to answer. The next moment, he got a coughing fit. I was worried but he wanted to talk and he was breathing very rapidly. I wanted to hear from him, but at the same moment I had wanted him to peacefully reach his place, his home. The rickshaw-walla couldn't ride his rickshaw as he was made to go the wrong side of the road. He was pulling us ahead, and it was taking time to move ahead because the traffic that was going the opposite side had to clear first.

My dad called me again. I picked up the phone and told him that I would be there in sometime. I was worried because they were waiting for me as well. As I cut the call I had received from dad, the old man held my hand once again. This time, I found that he was putting something in my hand. No doubts, it was a hundred rupees note. He asked me to pay the rickshaw-walla and keep the rest of the amount with me, so that I could also reach my place, my destination. Such noble were his thoughts. I tried to say, 'No, it's fine.', but what he said, I didn't want to contradict him. I just wanted him to be safe and fine.

There were narrow streets once we entered the lane next to Golcha Cinema in Daryaganj. And on a right turn to a narrow street we had reached his home. He asked me to go upstairs and call someone from there. I tried walking a few steps, a bit scared even because it was all darkness greeting me in that staircase. I had come to a stranger's home and the old man wasn't in good shape. What the reaction of family members would be on that occasion, I was left wondering.

A lady's voice broke my reverie and she took name of a man. A boy come to the gallery and found me with his grandfather. Three to four women hurried down the staircase to find us. They shouted to call their husbands and in a matter of few minutes the street was altogether. The rickshaw-walla didn't have change of hundred rupees, and he had asked for only forty rupees. From a nearby shop I got it done and the rest sixty rupees I were to return to the old man. But when his relatives were taking him to the house, he pointed towards me and said, "Ye Allah ka banda hai, allah tumhe lambi umar de." He didn't take the money back from me that moment but I didn't want to keep his money with me. But, I couldn't say no to him. So, I returned it to a woman who had come up running after she found me with the old man. The old man was again and again telling his family members to treat me with offerings and drinks but I just escaped from there.

Coming out to the main road, I found the rickshaw walla passing by me. He smiled and I smiled back at him, and we led to our different streets that day in Old Delhi. I ran to meet my dad while the old man was at his home, his destination to be. It is a memory I won't forget ever in my life.
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Gagandeep Singh Vaid