Chat wala

It was raining outside. Sadness had engulfed Pintu watching those small globules of water, as if conjured in midst, of which he had always tried to find the origin with his village friends when they used to run out in rain and went on to play till the rain stopped. Things had changed fast, faster than his small mind could grasp. Baba became bigger babu. Bulbs at home were replaced with tube lights and soon manager saaheb of the bank helped Baba with money from the bank so that they could buy a home in city. He came to full consciousness of it when the behavioral norms changed. You should be a good boy, Aai told him time and again. But Aai I used to do all these things in village, he told her but to no avail. He could never understand it. He had always tried to invoke the excitement associated with the prospect of playing football with his building mates but all in vain. He really used to get bored with this-is-my-ball-so-i-got to get-more-passes tantrums. Their delicacy was no doubt beyond his perception.

Still standing and craving to go out, his small eyes looked further and could see that basti walla boys playing football. This was too much of an attraction to resist for a child of his age. He sneaked through the door. Running down and out of the gates of the apartment premises he was soaked in the rain till he reached the muddy playground. Suddenly the play stopped. The basti walla children thought that an alien had appeared in all those clothes which they could only desire for. But as soon as the eyes met they all knew that somewhere he was one of them. Nothing else was required. Nothing else than that innocent expression in eyes, which gets lost as one grows up. And within minutes he was one of them, with mud on the clothes, some bruises on the knees and a bit of pain in side ribs but with all that happiness which he could only imagine while standing in his gallery. In no time it was dark and everyone was sapped. Play stopped finally. There little legs devoid of all the strength. It was time to say goodbye but a bond had developed. They had same mud on their clothes and joyous spirits. Returning home he saw Chat Wala coming out of gully of the hut-dwelling. He knew the Chat Wala bhaiya as Baba liked the chat and he was delighted that apart from the rain football, his new friends had one more thing in common.

Tan tan tan….. and Pintu knew that bhaiya has come on the gate. In the passage of time when bhaiya left the hut-dwelling and reached his building gate, a lot had changed for Pintu. He had reached home to find Aai Baba in full fury. When told where he was, he had been thrashed and scolded. He was told that he should never even step out of building premises without permission, let apart playing with basti walla boys. He would get spoiled if he plays with them. What will the uncles and aunties in building say if they come to know about this incidence? How can someone get spoiled by just playing, had eluded Pintu’s understanding.

Baba, him and some uncle, aunties had gathered around the chat wala. The word of his deed had spread. One uncle repeated how he would become bad if he continues to do such acts. His building mates were smugly looking at him as if he was an outcast. Pintu’s mood was now on better side though. Baba had brought him new water colours and it definitely doesn’t take more than that to reverse the mood of a child. As bhaiya started giving pani puris to all those standing in half-circle, Pintu suddenly spoke in excited voice. “Baba, Baba you know, bhaiya is also favorite of basti wallas. They also eat this chat”. Suddenly hands stopped in between plate and mouth. Something had transpired the understanding of elders. Social parity had been set by a chat wala and an innocuous line from a child.