Need or Happiness?

Saikat reached home. Rohan, his son, came running to him. 

“Papa, look at this drawing! Tell me, how is it?” Saikat was the biggest critic of his five-year old son’s drawings.

He took his son in his arms and meanwhile looked at his drawing. He always was awe-struck at how well can a five-year old draw, whenever he saw his son’s creations.

“This is beautiful beta!” he exclaimed, seeming highly impressed. “This is perhaps one of your best drawings in the recent times!” He planted a kiss on his son’s cheek.

Rohan was really happy. He loved it whenever his father liked his drawings. 

“But papa, I want new sketch-pens. These are not working anymore.” Rohan informed his father showing his sketch-pens. Saikat paused. He checked his pocket as his son was busy analysing his sketch-pens. He had Rs. 30 in his pocket. There were still 5 more days for his salary to be credited. His financial condition wasn’t very good.  

“Rohan, which colour sketch-pens do you need?”

“Papa, I need red, blue, orange, black and yellow.”

“Let’s do one thing. We’ll buy red and blue for now, and we’ll buy the rest after some days. Is that OK?” Saikat tried to negotiate.

“OK Papa.” Rohan seemed a little disappointed, but Saikat had no other option. They went to the stationary shop. 

“Hi, we need two sketch-pens please – one red and one blue.” Saikat asked the shop-keeper.

“Just a minute sir.” The shopkeeper replied.

Just then, a car arrived. Another father-son duo came out of the car. They approached the shop. They looked rich. They came to the shop and asked for a whole packet of sketch-pens. The shopkeeper gave one to them. “How much?” the father asked. “Twenty-five rupees.”

The person handed him the money and they went off with the packet. His son was happily dancing away towards the car.

Seeing the packet, in the other boy’s hands, Rohan said, “Papa...” and he looked at his father. Saikat saw a strange glow in his eyes. Rohan’s look seemed innocent, and the longing for the packet of sketch-pens was very much there. He did not say anything, but his eyes said it all. He was excited to see a packet of pens, and desperate to own one.

“Sir, here you are – one red and a blue sketch-pen. Anything else?” said the shop-keeper.

“Yes, please keep these back. We’ll take the packet.” Saikat said to the shopkeeper and smiled at his son. He felt a strange satisfaction within him.

  

The Fallen Hero

It was a Sunday evening. I just reached my flat in Pune after a trip to my friend’s house. As I entered, I saw my room-mates watching something on TV. Instantly, I asked “What’s the score?” And channels were switched to SET MAX. The IPL season was on, and I had been following it for quite some time. After all, everyone goes gaga over it.

It was a match between Pune Warriors and Rajasthan Royals. As it seemed, Pune was badly down and was almost on the verge of losing (as was the case in their last 6-7 matches). I supported Pune, not because I had developed affection towards the city I am staying in (although I do), but it had my favourite cricketer – Sourav Ganguly leading the team. 

I remember the time – 1996 to be precise, when the ‘Prince of Kolkata’ debuted in the Indian Cricket Team at the Lord’s Cricket Stadium in England. I was relatively younger back then and I hadn’t noticed him much. But when I really started following Cricket, which most of us in India do, Boy Oh Boy! Was I mesmerized by this player! Of course, Sachin was the greatest batsman in the world. But there was something in him that demanded a fan-following. I loved the way he used to step out of his crease, the moment he sees a spin bowler at the other end of the 22-yards, or the way he used to pierce the offside field, packed with 6-odd fielders with an elegant drive. He was a player you’d love to watch. His opening partnerships with Sachin, was something I hardly missed. 

When he became the captain of the Indian Cricket Team, the whole cricket fraternity was deeply immersed in the after-effects of the Match-fixing scandals. Most of the cricketers, including some of the Indians as well were down and out. It was then, that Sourav led from the front and he infused young blood to the team, along with a few experienced personnel within the team. Such was the belief that they had, that they started winning overseas games as well and improving India’s overseas records under his captaincy to such an extent was by far one of his greatest achievements.

I remember reading an article wherein it was mentioned that Sourav had intentionally come late for the toss and he made Steve Waugh, the then-captain of the Australian Cricket team, wait. Steve Waugh was furious about it, but he had just got a piece of his own cake. I knew it then, that the Indian Cricket Team that we would have now, is carrying an ATTITUDE. 

After all those achievements though, the famous spat with Greg Chappel happened and everything started falling apart for Sourav. He was removed from the captaincy and was asked to warm the benches. He made a comeback with a gritty century against Zimbabwe in a test match, but we all knew he had lost the magical touch he once possessed in his batting. I have seen many people criticizing him for various reasons. But they don’t realize that India had ‘almost’ won the Cricket World Cup 2003, and by then he had played a major part in the resurgence of the team.

I don’t really know why Sourav ends up with Aussie coaches, read John Buchanan as the coach of the Kolkata Knight Riders team in the IPL. Moreover, he ends up having a bad term with them, and frantically loses out on his place. The worst was still about to come, when none of the IPL teams bid for him in the IPL auctions. It was heart-breaking for his fans and that was evident when they burnt down effigies of SRK in Kolkata. But the team owners vied for better cricketers, who suited the 20-20 format better than Sourav, and that was obvious. I always thought, why does he still want to play? Why can’t he just take up a job as a commentator and retire with dignity? Frankly, I don’t know. Probably, he still has that passion to play cricket and he wants to contribute in every possible way. Probably, he doesn’t want to be called as an ex-cricketer with good English-speaking skills, who rather than playing cricket joined a TV channel as a Cricket Commentator. Probably, he did not want to sit in an Air-conditioned room and watch others playing his favourite game on the ground. Probably, he wanted to be in the middle of the action that’s happening at the centre-stage. Probably, he’s still trying to prove a point to the people who criticize him as a non-performer in the shortest version of cricket. 

Sourav, you’ve had enough of action and you’ve made your country proud, with all those achievements you’ve made. You have got nothing more to prove. You still have a great fan-following and everyone knows your contribution towards Indian cricket. It’s time now that you hang up your boots and play more of a mentor-kinda role for any team. Youngsters can learn a lot from you. The relentless passion that you have towards the game is unmatchable.

I had watched a video where he was asked by the journalists, about his reaction to his remaining unsold in the IPL auction, his eyes looked down and he seemed lost in his thoughts – 'The Fallen Hero’ paused. Probably he had no answers to the question.  

Mani

Rajan was coming back to his hometown after 5 years. Now that he had shifted his base to Mumbai, and none of his relatives were staying in Bhubaneswar, he had no business coming down to the place. After his parents had died, he had sold his property before shifting completely to Mumbai. He had been to several holiday destinations since then, but this time, there was something inside him which was urging him to go back to Bhubaneswar and feel the warmth of the soil there. He instantly remembered the days when he used to go to Puri, to visit the Lord Jagannath’s Temple and of course, the beach was always on the cards. The ecstatic feeling he used to have when they played cricket matches on Sundays in the scorching heat, defying every warning from their parents. These memories flooded his mind and he planned his trip... alone.

He reached Bhubaneswar and got freshened up in a Hotel. Soon, he set out to see the place where he once used to live, the place where he spent his childhood, the place where he was born. The city seemed to have changed a lot in the last 5 years. The small colonies were now replaced by big apartments; there were town buses in service now. He could hardly see any person travelling on a cycle. The city had developed a lot, he thought.

His home was situated around 4-5 kms from his hotel. He stood by the side of the road and looked for an auto. Most of them, which run on a sharing basis were filled up, so he did not want to travel in them. After a 10 minutes wait, he could finally find an auto which had no passenger in it. He waved at it and the auto stopped in front of him.

“Will you go to Saheednagar?” Rajan asked.

“Reserve or on a sharing basis?” asked the auto-driver.

“Reserve”. Rajan replied.

“100 rupees sir.” demanded the auto-driver. Rajan was expecting around 50-60 bucks. He thought of bargaining with him.

“That’s too much! I’ll give you 50 bucks and that’s my last offer.” He said.

The auto-driver went off without bothering to reply to the offer. Rajan was astounded by the rude behaviour of the auto-guy. He looked around and thought of taking a bus, but then he would have had to ask for bus routes and moreover, look for a bus stop. He looked back and found an empty cycle rickshaw, with the rickshaw driver sitting under the tree. He was reminded of the old days, when he used to go to the school with a few other kids in a cycle rickshaw. The idea of travelling again brought out the kid in him and he found himself fascinated by it. He went to the rickshaw, and noticed that the rickshaw-puller was an old guy, seemed like 50-55 years old.

“Will you take me to Saheednagar?” He asked the rickshaw-puller.

“Yes sir.” The old guy replied.

“How much?”

“Sir, whatever you offer.”

“I’ll give you 40 rupees.” Rajan made his offer. Something inside him pinched him for making that offer, which was 10-20 bucks less than the one he made to the auto-rickshaw driver. It was probably his moral conscience. He was glad that he had one.

“OK” replied the guy politely.

Rajan sat on the cycle rickshaw and his journey started. He struck up a conversation with the rickshaw-puller.

“You must be facing tough competition from the auto-rickshaws?” he asked.

“Sir, There is no competition at all. The auto-rickshaws are faster, and if you are going on a sharing basis, it’s cheaper as well. We stand no chance against them.” He replied humbly.

“Then why don’t you guys run an auto-rickshaw?” He asked, but then he knew it was a stupid question! Obviously the guy did not have enough money to buy one!

“Sir, from where will we get the money to buy one? Moreover, even if we want to drive somebody else’s auto-rickshaw, who would want an old man to drive his vehicle! There is a big risk involved in it for the owner.”

“How do you manage then? Do you get enough customers to make a living out of it?” Rajan asked curiously.

“No sir. It is only kind men like you or sometimes, though rarely, the curious ones, who just need a ride for fun are our customers. We barely manage our living, but are happy with whatever we have or rather, whatever we don’t have.” he said and laughed. I too tried to join in with his laughter.

He continued. “But sir, our city is developing so much. New buildings are coming up, new shopping malls, hotels have found a place in the city, people party and have lots of money to spend. But the Government doesn’t realise even though the city is developing, the rich is getting richer and the poor is getting poorer. Where will we go and what will we do to earn a living?”

Soon, Rajan found that he was about to reach his destination and there is an uphill road which was about 10-15 mins walk to his home. He did not want to give the poor old guy a hard time, pulling up his weight. He asked him to stop and got down from it. He felt sorry for the poor old guy. He took out his wallet, fished out a 500-rupee note and handed it over to the person.

The old guy looked at Rajan and said, “Sir, Please give me 40 rupees change.”

“That’s fine. No need of returning me the change. I insist, please keep it.” Rajan replied.

“Sir, I cannot take it. I have worked hard all my life and have never accepted anything which is not fair. That’s how I’ve lived my life sir. I promised you to bring you here in exchange of 40 rupees and will do so. I know you would have felt sorry for me listening to my story, but I had no intentions of charging you money for telling it to you!” He said, with a smiling face.

Rajan was startled by the honesty of the old rickshaw-puller, at the same time he was crossed with himself for making such a small offer for the rickshaw ride. But then he had no choice. The guy simply refused to take any extra money! Finally, he gave him 40 bucks and he accepted it with grace. Rajan was impressed with the way the person had conducted himself irrespective of the fact that he was so poor.

The rickshaw-puller said, “Thank you sir.” and started turning away with the rickshaw.

Rajan called him, “Hey wait! What’s your name?”

“Sir, my name is Mani. Hope you’ll remember me!” And with a smile on his face, he started moving in the opposite direction.

“Of course Mani!” replied Rajan.