Story: The Mother

Mokai woke up in the morning to the kicks and rebuffs of the station police. It was five o'clock and the first Sealdah-bound train of the day had already arrived at the station. The busiest station in the world had just begun to gain its rhythm, with the hoots and cries of the hurrying vendors and hawkers. Mokai got up, rolled his shabby, black kambal, put it into his plastic bag and set off for kaka's shop. It was Panchami that day, the first day of Durga Puja, Kaka had told him the previous day. He  had ordered Mokai to be present at his shop at six o'clock in the morning everyday for this week. It was Pujo week and he could not afford to be remiss for a moment this week. Mokai was no remiss nor was he indolent, even though Kaka always rebuked him with epithets like 'Fakibaj', 'kamchor', etc. This week he was bent on working all day and would sell all the packs he was to be assigned with. Kaka said, if he could sell all the packs, bequeathed upon him for a day in this week, Mokai would be given extra ten rupees as bonus that day. On his way, he came to a halt at the Sulabha Souchalay, rummaged a two rupee coin from his plastic bag, tossed it on the collectors table, and entered the bathroom to prepare himself ready for the day. He had nothing to prepare himslef with though - the only belongings he possessed were a blue hlaf-pant that Kaka had given him a year ago, a tattered white inner-vest which was no more white and turned almost brown and his kambal that was used both as sleeping sheet and blanket at his convenience. Even so, every morning he had had to take bath and make himself a bit presentable before he turned up at Kaka's stall, or else Kaka would not send him to the market. Kaka never liked unclean, disheveled peddlers, he had clarified it to Mokai many a time. 

When Mokai reached Kaka's stall, Kaka had already opened the shutter, decorated the jars and other articles on the front and now was offering his puja to Goddess Laxmi who perched on the uppermost shelf in the small wooden stall blessing Kaka's business. Mokai waited for Kaka's prayer to be over - he had once been reprimanded before for calling out Kaka during his prayer and had been cautioned not to do so ever again. His puja having finished, Kaka opened his eyes, turned towards Mokai and gestured him with his hand to wait for a little longer. Settling himself in his chair inside the stall, Kaka leant his head out over the row of jars on the front and called out Sona da: 'Sonu, give him a glass of tea and a cake of ten rupees." Then he asked Mokai to have his breakfast done quickly at Sona da's tea-stall, standing opposite his stall on the same footpath. A glass of tea and a nero buiscuit had always been allocated for Mokai's breakfast but the cake, instead of the same one-rupee nero buiscuit, was a surprise for Mokai. Nevertheless, he did not render much thinking to this matter and went on relishing the ten-rupees choclate cake. Today was supposed to be a good day for Mokai; he had decided to have mangso-vat at the Aahar Hotel near Sealdah station since he was going to earn a fat sum of money in that festive day. Usually he used to have his lunch at the Maa canteen (a government-run canteen) on the footpath which provided lunch-meal for five rupees. And he worked all day peddling dhoop kathi (incense) around the area to earn the money for his dinner at night. Every day he was assigned with twenty-five packs of dhoop kathi and he had to sell each for five rupees. If he managed to sell more than twenty packs, he got thirty-five rupees from the total earnings. Out of thirty-five, twenty rupees he spent for his dinner at Tapan kaku's hotel (a makeshift small restraurant on the footpath near Kaka's shop) and the remaining fifteen rupees was his earning of the day. He managed to sell all the packs almost each day; even on a rainy day, he could sell all of them, though for that he had to walk a lot more than usual in rain with the dhoop kathi safely covered in double polythene bags. Sealdah was a big area and people needed dhoop for puja and some people even bought them to drive the mosquitoes out of their shop. Sometimes he also went to the crematorium nearby to sell the dhoop.

But for this week he would not roam around sealdah station area; rather he would go to the nearby Pujo pandal at Lebutala as ordered by Kaka. He would have to go there early today and secure a sitting place for him in front of the pandal. Or else he would have to compete with the other peddlers for a convenient place. A platter of mangso vat at Ahaar Hotel at the end of the day! He had always watched, from outside the hotel, the people sitting around the tables inside, eating so many varieties of cuisines, several fish curries, chicken dishes, mutton dishes and what not. He did not know how it felt to sit in one of  those chairs, to have a platter of this long, slender, milky-white rice and bowls of curries of his own choice on the table before him, and most importantly, to have the waiter speaking to him respectfully unlike Tapan kaku and the canteen cooks. He had imagined all this many a time, while passing by the hotel, to soothe his heart of desire. Boys like him could only have all the imaginations to themselves but they had no right to reality. However, that day was the day his imagination could finally materialize; he could relish his imagined fancies in reality as well as a platter of mangso-vat, unlike the same, tasteless Maa canteen's daal and potato curry and Tapan kaku's sabji-vat. 

'Mokai, how long does it take to complete your breakfast?', Kaka's snub startled him back to his consciousness. 'Coming, Kaka. I'm done', Mokai replied before gulping the remaining tea in the glass down his throat altogether. Kaka fished out two bundles of dhoop kathi packs and counted them each twice, quite meticulously, with Mokai watching attentively, keeping the count in his mind too. Mokai could not read well, he barely knew all the alphabets of Bangla, but he had this tremendous calculating ability; nobody could deceive him insofar as calculation of the products or money was concerned. This apptitude, however, he had achieved over the course of time; Kaka himself had duped him many a time before when he was just a novice, customers also had duped him at times. But now he had calculation under his belt, which of course sometimes irritated Kaka. After the counting was over, Kaka lifted his eyes from the bundles and handed them over to Mokai: 'Here you are, there are fifty packs all total in these bundles. Today if you sell more than forty packs, you'll get fifty-six rupees and if you sell all the packs you will get seventy rupees plus ten rupees bonus as promised. Understood?" "Achha", reverted Mokai. "Achha, you may go now and, remember, don't be late. Come back before six in the evening. It's Pujo day I've got to go home early." Nodding his head in compliance, Mokai left for his destination.

Upon arriving at Lebutala Pujo Pandal, Mokai was stunned by the grandeur of the pandal. It looked like a gargantuan red building; no, it was not a building, rather it was like a castle of a King he had seen once on T.V. at the T.V. shop near Sealdah station - needless to say, watching T.V. standing outside the shop was his favourite pastime in the evening. The area was still quite empty now; some people in small groups were taking photos on the field in front of the pandal. Curious Mokai moved towards the entrance of the pandal to have a glimpse of the thakur. It was a bit crowdy inside, visitors were linguring there taking pictures. Mokai peeped into the ineterior from the corner of the pandal's entrance and looked all around astonishingly; he had never seen such exquisitely crafty ceiling, such enormous chandeliers, such multi-coloured lightings - and all of which were dimmed by the luminous grace of Goddess Durga, flanked by four other relatively small idols of other gods and goddesses, standing on a big-mustachioed, monstrous-looking man, spreading her six hands one of which was holding a trident that pierced into the man's chest. While engrossed in the charm cast upon him by the splendour of the Goddess, he felt a tug at his shoulder from behind and heard a man wearing blue police-uniform ask him to get out of the place. Disheartened Mokai came out of the pandal premises to find his sitting place for the day. He could not understand why people always drove him out of the beautiful places that were available to all other people. Maybe it was for his ugly outfit or his unkempt hair or perhaps his dusty bare feet that people disliked him, but what could he do about it? He himself would love to wear a red-shirt he had once seen Kaka's son wearing, a jeans full-pant and a black boot that children like him wore while they went to school, but what could he do about it? He wished he had had a mother or a father like all other children had, who bought them good dresses, who bought them whatever foods they insisted to eat, who took them to school every day holding them by their hands, who defended them from all the negligence and rebukes of other people, who embraced them to soothe all the pains of their heart, and who cuddled them warm at the coldest hour of the freezing night. How he wished he had had parents like them!

Mokai secured a place for him at the main gate to the field, sat down on the ground with folded legs and decorated some of the packs of dhoop kathi on his plastic bag before him. A little later, a begger-woman came to sit beside him. The narrow street before him was adorned on both sides with stalls of street foods, sweets, toys, crockeries, handicrafts, tattoos, gaming etc. Across the street there was a small playground which was entirely occupied by various joy-rides that were attracting most visitors to the discontent of the stall-owners on the street. Mokai watched legions of people dressed in fashionable, newly-bought clothes flocking into the pandal, old-aged, middle-aged, family members, young boys and girls, teenagers, children with their parents - all were looking jolly and festive. However, as soon as, amidst the multitude, his glance fell on the street-peddlers roaming around, selling toys, plastic flutes, ballons, cotton candies, lozenges etc, he began his trademark call to the passers-by: "Want some dhoop kathi, dada? Want some dhoop kathi, kaku? You may need it for your puja at home. Kakima, do you want some dhoop kathi ? It's specially made with grinded tuberoses added to the ingredients. Smell it, it smells of the aroma of tuberoses." Even as most people were indifferent to his call, Mokai kept on crying his trademark call till the afternoon. He had to sell all the packs, by hooks or by crooks. While he was crying his throat apart for the apathetic visitors to the pandal, he noticed how people's injudicious sympathy for the beggar-woman was earning her so much money that she had to hide the money under the plastic sheet she was sitting on. This beggar-woman was a fraud, Mokai knew she was feigning her abnormality. But still people were squandering their money on this woman while at the same time, they were least bothered about purchasing a pack of dhoop kathi from Mokai whose throat was parched by crying out his trademark call for so long. 

Just when Mokai stopped his cry to rest a while, it occurred to him that it was his usual lunch time. It was true he was hungry since he had taken his breakfast early in the morning and had not eaten anything else ever since, but he did not want to leave this convenient place, even if he would have to skip his lunch today. Besides, in the evening he was going to quench all his appetite today. In the meantime, an old woman came to him and asked the price of his dhoop kathi. Mokai replied, "Five rupees only, thamma." "All right, give me two packs", said the old woman. After the woman left, Mokai decided not to dawdle anymore; the business had just started and he could not afford to lose this opportunity now. So he resumed his trademark call with added enthusiasm. Time passed by little by little, the sun started to mitigate its scorching light, plenty of visitors came and departed, but all seemed indifferent to the Mokai's call. Somebody should have told Mokai that people do not buy dhoop kathi in their festive mood. Exhausted Mokai was now barely able to make his call; his parched throat was aching now, his starving stomach was making him dizzy, looking at his bag full of dhoop kathi, his eyes now let loose tears. While wiping his unrestrained tears with his small, dusty hands, he began to implore to the passers-by with a feeble voice: "Didi, please buy some of my dhoop kathi...please. If you don't buy anything from me, what will become of me? I didn't eat all day. Please buy a pack at least so that I can eat something at the end of the day." Some people gave him a sympathetic look, some passed him nonchalantly, some other thought it was his design to sell his product, but all were too busy visiting the pandal to waste their money on mere dhoop kathi. 

The sun was about to set, the lights were on, the place was becoming euphoric as pleasant night  was about to lure more and more people to the pandal. Pujo started from the evening for most Pujo-hoppers but for Mokai it was the end of his Pujo today. Exhausted, disappointed, anxious about how he would earn the money for his dinner now, Mokai began to pack his articles  in his plastic bag. He was afraid how Kaka would react to it when he would see all the dhoop kathis unsold; he (kaka) would humiliate him to his toes. So also, his long yearned-for 'mangso vat' at Ahaar Hotel would have to remain his imagination as always. Perhaps, he had hoped too much, beyond his limitation, perhaps boys like him should not have hopeed for much, perhaps this Pujo was not for them. He decided to go back to Sealdah area and take a round to sell some of the packs, at least enough to please Kaka and buy his dinner as well. Just when he got up to leave, a young guy wearing yellow punjabi came running towards him from the entrance of the Puja pandal, trying to get by the crowd with much difficulties. Mokai had seen this man pass by him in the afternoon, then he hardly looked at Mokai, but why was he waving at him to wait now? The youngman came to Mokai huffing and puffing, and then taking a long breath, said: 

"Oi baata, how many packs of dhoop do you have?"

"Forty-eight"

"How much for each?"

"Five rupees only!"

"Okay, give me all of them. Hurry up! We're running out of dhoop at the mandap."

He took a two hundred rupees and a fifty rupees note out of his purse, tucked them into Mokai's left hand, snatched the bundles from his right hand and ran off towards the pandal. Unable to process out everything just happened, astounded Mokai kept staring at him dashing into the entrance of the pandal, pushing the crowd aside just as he had done so while coming out. All of a sudden the beguiling mirage turned into a water-body in the forlorn, waterless desert, to quench the thirst of a hopeless, worn-out traveller. Who knows how this miracle happened!

I don't know what Mokai's religion is, neither do I know which caste he belongs to. Like me, you also might be thinking, what could be the religion or caste of a homeless, kinless orphan like Mokai? But, whatever he may be, on that Panchami, his Mother fulfilled his wish.

~Imran