WORLD IS BLIND (Short story)

WORLD IS BLIND

Faith… What does that mean?

It is a very poignant question, being asked from the very beginning of the social life of human beings. God constructed his worlds, whether material or spiritual, on the strong foundation of faith. Are we missing that now–a-days? Are we trying to break that faith every moment?

From the very beginning of my career in Government service, Ramu was a part of my life and I am very proud that I was his trusted friend. Ramu was our office peon - an embodiment of innocence. He was from very poor backgrounds as his parents belonged to scheduled caste, previously treated as untouchables. His small family comprised of Kausalli: his ‘Hitlerian’ wife and two boys, almost nearing the end of their teens. 

Even though, I had to travel around 120 km, up and down, every-day, I used to be the first man to reach our office in the morning. Ramu was the next guy to reach there.

‘Sir, please put a big dot at the centre of my column,’ Ramu told while handing over the attendance register. ‘I can’t see properly… from childhood.’ He smiled innocently.

‘Ramu, you better buy a reading glass’

‘Sir, that’s very costly’

‘Who said that?’

‘Kausalli, my wife’

‘It costs just hundred rupees… You better buy a pair of specs’

‘Sir… Regularly, I hand over my salary to her… She will not spend money for unnecessary things.’

‘My God! Then, what will she do with your salary?’

‘I don’t know… Kausalli pays me just… enough money for bus fare… and for two cups of tea daily,’ he smiled again innocently…. ‘Sir, newspaper’

I buried myself deep into the cruelties of news-makers… ‘A minor girl sexually abused by more than two hundred people… Father acts like a pimp… Mother spreads the bed rolls.’ The female news-reporter introduced the story so spicy; it could give an immediate erection even to an octogenarian! Rotten media bastards….

♥

Ramu started his career as a last grade servant during his mid-thirties… that too from an educational institution in Cochin (a metropolitan City now)... Thousands of naughty students, most of the belonging to rich families, they utilized every opportunity to harass him… Mud heads… He didn’t curse or complain…

World remained as blind as ever… None knew the pain of his heart… Four hungry stomachs, including himself… Two small boys and their mother… Nothing to eat… no home…Ramu transformed into the synonym of nothingness! Poor guy was forced to stay in an unused class room where stinking bats were his partners… Public works department had been busy constructing a dormitory for people like him in the Moon! (Not yet over!). At last, even his wife was forced to go for work in nearby paddy fields when her younger son started sucking blood from barren breasts.

Krishnan Nair, then time office Superintendent, a kindhearted man himself, showed some personal interest to regularize his appointment. Poor guy was overwhelmed with happiness when he got his salary and arrears, that too after three months of appointment. Within no time, his soul was bathed by the fresh scent of those red notes with denomination of twenty rupees… Can it clear the known smell of tears and hunger?

♥

Ramu was capable of defeating Carl Louise, the Olympic Gold medalist, on that special day! He stood there in the post office, panting, with a money order form and post card in hand. But, what is the use? The curved letters on that money order form grinned at him like wild monkeys…. later they dissolved into thick fog… But, God the merciful, appeared before him in the form of a well-dressed Medical representative, with a huge shoulder bag full of sample medicines. He entered into a counter to send some material through registered post.

‘Sir… Will you please help me to fill this form up?’Ramu requested him.

‘Sure,’ the gentleman replied in a compassionate voice. ‘O.K… tell me the address’

‘Kausalli, Cheruvayal house, kunnathanam, Kottayam’ Ramu felt his voice sweeter than that of anyone. ‘Money…. Rupees six hundred… Sir, please write a letter also to her,’he said while handing over the post card.

The gentleman handed over the duly filled money order form and post card. Ramu ran to the nearest hotel immediately after completing the procedures in the post office. Boiled rice, fish curry… ahhaa…soon, he became the embodiment of taste… Later he took half day leave… to transcend… He slept of peacefully like a new-born… The money order receipt fluttered like a butterfly, above his chest in the intermittent gale from his huge nostrils… He danced with Kausalli in the evergreen vales of sleep, and that too to the fierce tune of snoring!

Three days later, Ramu saw the last dream of his life… Location: an air-conditioned room in Sealord hotel, Cochin… Hero: our handsome medical representative… Heroin: Saumya, one of the expensive prostitutes of Cochin, nearing voluntary retirement! She too wanted to settle in life! Action: ‘DADDY-MUMMY GAME!

Poor Ramu was not all aware of the ‘occasionally synonymous’ words: ‘dream and reality’! 

Since then, Kausalli remained his post office, with just only one provision… to deposit! Dreaming was also termed as sin!

♥

Heavy rains turned the Solar calendar to July. I noticed a boy, nearing twenty, standing there in the vehicle shed in front our office. He was standing there from the morning. My colleagues were busy standing in the queue to collect their monthly salaries.

‘Who is that boy?’ I asked Sam, another peon in the office.

‘Sir, He is the elder son of peon Ramu’

‘Why does he stand there?’

‘Don’t you know that? He is there to collect his share from his father’s salary’

His reply really shocked me.

♥

‘Sir… Rajendran… my elder son… he doesn’t go for any job… he simply moves around with friends, day and night… Now, it seems he needs three thousand rupees… to buy a big music system… with large boxes… He loves music… But, we need money to thatch the house… If I give money, Kausalli will not give me anything to eat… Sir, my situation is really bad… How can I give him money? He is very angry on me… Sir… Only rich people can enjoy music,’Ramu opened his Pandora’s Box.

‘Boys, now-a-days, don’t understand the problems and pain of parents,’ I said.

‘He will kill me… Sir… He will kill me,’ Ramu started crying.

‘Ramu, please wipe your tears… he will not do anything like that.’

‘No, Sir… he will kill me some day… Yesterday also he told me like this… ‘I know the shortcut, how you got your job’’

‘Ramu, will you please elaborate?’

‘My father expired while he was working in government service as a last grade servant … That’s why I got his job… they call it ‘job on death harness grounds’… Sir, he will kill me to get my job,’ Ramu was trembling with fear... ‘I have only two more years of service… He will kill me some day…he will’

‘No… Ramu… he won’t… after all he is your son.’

Ramu walked away on his trademark ‘slow strides’.... without even hurting the blades of grass!

♥

Five days later…I was discussing some official matter with our Principal in the corridor… Ramu ran towards us crying aloud, with his usual bag in hand.

‘Ramu, why are you crying like this? What’s the matter?’ Principal asked.

‘Sir, my big brother is no more… he passed away, early in the morning.’

‘Then… why did you come to the office?’

‘I have no leave… If I take leave, my salary…….She.’

‘Shit… O.K… You come after three days… I will not score your column in the attendance register’

‘Thank you… Sir.’

‘Now… run to your home.’

Within seconds, Ramu transformed himself into a happy teardrop…

♥

One month passed…

‘Rhythms of life’… I was busy reading the poetry anthology of noted poet Mamta Agarwal… What a well-designed book it is! And well written poems…

'Affluenza... innovative penning, brimming with philosophical astuteness, as well as generous dose of old fashioned cleverity, like the title.... quite creative': Frank James Ryan Jr.’s comment was there in the back cover. FJR knows the true soul of poetry!

‘Mamtaji, who designed this book? It’s really beautiful,’ I asked her over mobile phone.

‘O… Thanks Premji… It was designed by husband… He did a wonderful job for me… and that’s what husbands are meant for,’ she laughed…

‘Mamtaji, tell me about the sales?’

‘Sales? Poetry? Are you joking, Premji? Poetry doesn’t sell... Poetry doesn’t sell at all now-a-days… ’

Was there deep anguish behind her words? The crest jewel of art is heaped unsold in the dusty racks… later dumped into the darkness of warehouses... Culture too…

My mobile started pestering again… Sam was on the line…

‘Sir, Ramu is no more?’

‘Did he?’

‘No, Sir… It was a heart attack.’

♥

I went to his home on the very next day… I don’t prefer to watch dead bodies because I like to treasure only their live faces in my mind… Rajendran , his elder son, was standing near the fresh grave.

‘Rajendran… O! What to say?’ my voiced chocked… ‘Anyway he is no more… You must find some alternative to look after the home’

‘O.K… Sir.’

‘You come to our office immediately after the ceremonies are over… Our principal will move all the official papers in favour of you so that you may get his job… Please try to collect his death certificate as soon as possible.’

‘Sir… I am ready to toil for all life… but.’

‘But?’

‘I don’t need his job… I don’t need,’ poor boy started crying aloud… ‘He told everyone that…. I will kill him for his job…. What a punishment Sir… what an insult, Sir... I don’t want his job… Some crooked people injected that venom of fear in his mind.’

‘O.K… Rajendran… I can understand your pain… But, you have to face real life… You have to look after mother and your brother.’

‘Sir… He was living with hypertension from the very day of his elder brother's death… That killed him… Not me,’ poor boy sank into his knees near the grave.

Only three cents of land… Ramu slept there eternally, congested, beside his small home…

Premji