It was 1975, the year of a nationwide emergency. The evening bus from Adyar to Egmore was overcrowded, with most commuters returning home from work. People were stepping on each other, vying for a small space even to stand. Some found it difficult even to breathe. A cursory glance around revealed that many commuters had joyful faces despite the conditions. These were the ones who received their salaries today, the last day of the month.
Usually, these faces were happy only for a few days of the month, and this was one of those. The salaried class were chatting away incessantly and smiling, while other passengers looked out the windows or read a newspaper. Among this flock was Ramesh, a contrasting young man. He was silent but his mind was filled with dreams.
‘Nisha had been asking for a new school bag. Tomorrow, I will take her to T. Nagar and get her one,’ thought Ramesh as he stood with his right hand holding the overhead railing, while his left hand firmly gripped the pole close to him. He noticed all the regular faces who rode this bus every working day. The happiness on their faces brought a smile on him too.
He fell back to his dreams and imagined himself meeting Muthu. A loan shark who lived at the end of his street. ‘Here is your money. Never again will I seek your help,’ Ramesh played the dialogue in his mind over and over in various tones. He wanted to utter them with grit, as Muthu had often embarrassed him and his family in public, due to non-payment of dues.
Other thoughts also came to the fore, one after the other. ‘Meena had been asking for a new set of clothes for the family function… I must get myself a pair of slippers, the current ones have become old and are showing visible signs of wear and tear... Nisha’s school fee must be paid this month...’ As he imagined all he could achieve with his salary, a wave of contentment washed over him.
Suddenly, the conductor whistled and shouted, “Santhome… Santhome… Santhome…” jolting him out of his reverie.
***************
Ramesh’s home was a few minutes’ walk from the Santhome Church. Once he got off, he walked to the nearest grocer to get vegetables and some of Nisha’s favorite mittai. As the shopkeeper packed his items, Ramesh reached into his pants' back pocket for cash but was in for a shock. The pocket was empty. One by one, he checked all his pockets. Nothing. Back and forth he checked again and again, in panic. His shirt, his pants, and his bag. NOTHING.
Ramesh’s entire salary of Rs.150 for the month had gone missing, and he found a wide cut in his pocket. His temperature rose, the legs weakened, and sweat began to form over his face. A sudden surge of hopelessness engulfed him, and all his dreams for the month collapsed like a house of cards.
Back on the bus, a man got off two stops down the road. A smile filled his face too, but unlike the others, this was not borne out of hard, and righteous work. For him, Ramesh was an easy target.
***************
That month had been the hardest to manage for Ramesh. None of his family and friends had money to lend for his urgent expenses. Muthu was the only option, but he offered only half the required amount, at an exorbitant interest. Unfortunately, Ramesh had to accept what was offered, with all humility.
A month after the incident, Ramesh was riding the same bus home. The past event had left him feeling remorseful, though he had nearly forgotten about it. The police had not been very helpful either in finding the culprit. He stopped visiting them after a couple of weeks due to their lackadaisical approach. During this time, he had also checked with regular commuters and others he had encountered that day, but it was all in vain. He eventually gave up on recovering his lost salary and blamed his fate for the loss.
Today was payday. As usual, the smiling faces were chatting away with friends and colleagues as the bus took them to their destination. For Ramesh, however, the most pressing thought was the additional debt he had to repay this month. Muthu had started visiting Ramesh’s home when he was away, demanding the dues from his wife Meena. This only added to his pressure.
Nisha had been going to school without a proper school bag and instead was using a grocery bag. “Appa, I am the only one in my class without a school bag, will you get me one this month?” Nisha had asked with her cute twinkling eyes. As a father, Ramesh felt that he was failing his daughter. He managed to pay the school fees, but the bag, new clothes, the family function, and other expenses were all put on hold.
Being lost in thought, Ramesh almost missed his stop, if not for the conductor who yanked him to his senses. He encountered his neighbor as soon as he got off and they had a small conversation before Ramesh headed home. As he walked, he suddenly remembered to check his pocket. Empty. His eyes widened, and his heart began beating rapidly. He checked all his pockets in quick succession. EMPTY.
This time too, there was a tear in the pocket where he had kept the salary. In a state of utter shock, Ramesh sat on the side of the road, with his hands over his head. Unable to breathe. A deep sorrow enveloped him as he fainted on the spot in absolute agony.
****************
A few days later, Ramesh was walking with his family to a nearby temple. He looked desolate, with shoddy clothes and an unshaven face. He no longer had the confidence and gait of a youthful man surrounded by a loving family. As they walked past, he imagined the entire town silently mocking him as, ‘The fool who got stolen from. Twice.’
Since the day he fainted and was brought home, he felt vulnerable and insecure. Gradually, thoughts of ending his life began to sprout. He felt useless to himself and his family and began plotting ways for his death. His eyes became droopy. His gaze never met others on the street or at the office. He got irritated when his daughter wanted to speak or play with him.
Meena perceived that Ramesh had been gloomy for the past few days, and therefore implored him to accompany her to the temple. Hoping that grace and a change in scenery would uplift his mood. She didn’t know that he had been plotting his death.
An old man, a siddhar, followed Ramesh and his family. He wore an ochre garb and had long matted hair with piercing bright eyes. As they entered the temple, the siddhar sat outside and waited. Occasionally, people offered him small change and fruits, which he humbly accepted with a smile and blessed them in return. After almost an hour, Ramesh and his family emerged from inside the temple and walked past the old man.
Ramesh spotted something bright appear in the corner of his eye. For a moment, his gaze fell on the siddhar, who had a radiant and gentle smile. There was something magnetic about his being. Ramesh turned and walked towards the saintly man while fidgeting in his pocket for loose change. As he reached close, he fished out a 5 paise coin. The siddhar smiled and waved his hands, indicating that he did not need his money. But he signaled him to come close.
“Have you realized why you were targeted twice on the same bus?” the old man asked with a knowing smile. The question was abrupt and caused Ramesh to falter in his steps.
‘How does he know?’ Ramesh wondered, with a sense of astonishment. He was bereft of words. A thousand questions ran through his mind, but he couldn’t grasp any.
“Certain incidents in life teach us valuable lessons,” started the Siddhar, “of all the people on the bus, you were robbed twice. Were you EXPLOITABLE?” He paused for a moment to let that question sink deep.
“Becoming a victim for a second time shows a lack of wisdom,” he continued “and planning to end your life demonstrates irresponsibility.” The siddhar’s words were curt and hard hitting, as is their usual way of speaking. Ramesh was left red-faced as his intention to end his life was laid bare.
“Not everything is lost,” the siddhar paused again with a smile. “Those who learn from experience gain wisdom and enrich their lives. Those who refuse to learn are bound to repeat it, and thus remain failures.”
The old man looked intensely into Ramesh’s eyes and commanded with a resounding voice, “BE WISE AND RESPONSIBLE.” He then gently tapped Ramesh on the shoulder, and a sudden surge of energy coursed through Ramesh. For a moment his body quivered. Ramesh stood there in awe and bewilderment and immediately held Meena and Nisha tightly by their hands—never to let go. They looked on as the siddhar walked away and disappeared into the crowd.
