The fifty rupee

It was a bright Saturday morning, a deviation from the wet tipper tapper of the rain, so characteristic of the day of July. The sun now was smiling genially over the heads of the townsfolk, walking hurriedly, umbrellas in their hands, incase of a sudden downpour. These men and women, all so beautifully crafted by the supreme, all so planned and meticulous, without a second glance passed that one small creature sitting at the turn of the pavement of the busy street, hands all smudged with the blackness of the shoe polish. This boy, not more than ten, sitting under his handmade tent, was watching eagerly the shoes of the men passing him. "Let them not have the time to polish their shoes today", he prayed wildly at the appearance of the shoes around the corner. But each of them passed him, not stopping, their shoes shiny clean, or the ones with the bad looking shoes not bothering to clean them. " Polish lagvalo bhaiji", he called hoping they would stop, but there wasn't any earning in his fate that morning. After a 1545 people had passed him ( he had counted, wondering what if all of them had had their shoes polished, and the number of coins he would earn), and the sun had left all its geniality and was now prickling the back of his bare back, he got up collected all his things and walked back home slowly inspite of his feet burning.

The day previous, Raja was strolling lazily around the streets, when he stopped infront of a shop. Over the counter on his left, there was two rackets, shiny and beautiful!!! The shopkeeper had told him that he was to pay hundred rupees and that too in a day. By the next evening the rackets would be sold.And now under the scorching sun, Raja realized he had only five hours left. Five more hours, yes, the man in the shop had said, he thought, five more hours to collect one hundred rupees to buy the shiny new rackets!! Raja, his mind racing, thought,he already had fifty from his and Amma's savings put together, and, for the first time he would finally own something he liked. Not torn, not broken and definitely not somebody else's. His own,they would be. He even had named them already, Chinky and Pinky. But alas, he hadn't earned a single rupee that morning.

" Raja!", called a voice and he came back to his senses, and found himself standing infront of an old sick lady "Raja, paav laya kya?" , said she, one hand on her walking stick. "Nai Amma, abhi laya" he said and ran back all the way he had come. The thought of the shiny new rackets had driven away every single thought including his grandmother's instructions in the morning. She had given him ten rupees to bring home food and the other fifty he clutched as for dear life, for his rackets. Almost out of breath, Raja reached Chacha Ramlal's general store in the village, only to find a huge crowd infront of it. The man harassed, sweat on his forehead, in a dhoti and turban was answering each and every man, women and child, nobody to help him. Raja wondered where all the bhaiyas of the shop were. And suddenly an idea struck him. Pushing his way through the crowd, panting, Raja asked Ramlal chacha if he could help him run the shop just for the day. Eyeing him suspiciously, the chacha asked his price. " Fifty rupees" came promptly the reply and the chacha happy for having procured a servant for such a meagre sum immediately recruited him. Raja looked at the clock, it was striking twelve, and he thought yes, I have two more hours and the chacha's shop closed today at noon, for it was a Saturday. Raja worked diligently, dealing with all the abuses, customers, his stomach rumbling, and as he occasionally remembered his grandmother's paav and her lunch, a pang of guilt grew in his heart, but he still worked, for it would all be worth in the end. Thus, after two hours, Raja, the fifty rupee note, crisp in his hand, sweating and weak, running through the street as fast as he could, swerving suddenly to avoid the motor that was driving up from the opposite, honking dangerously, came thundering into the only shop that sold badminton rackets, and triumphantly put the new crisp fifty rupee note and another old torn fifty rupee note, in front of the man behind the counter. The man looked at him questioningly. Raja smiled and said, " the rackets" The man pointed to the motor, which Raja had just escaped from, and said " You are late, the rackets are sold". And inside the motor, two tiny hands, pink and hale and healthy, with no shoe polish over them, fondled the shiny rackets with delight and exuberance.