chotu...ek chai....

The current “me” is a changed person. From a shy, over sensitive and under-confident person in school days, to a fairly confident, positive person in college, this has been a very valuable journey in my life. I still remember being sad over petty matters like not scoring well in my exams, losing an argument with friends or not getting a thing that I wanted. Many instances in my adolescent years have taught me better.

It was the last evening of my second semester in BITS. After a ‘not very descent’ performance in the exams (not that I regret it), I sought some relief in the rehdy in front of Shankar Bhavan(my hostel for the first year). Rehdys in Bits are more popular than the college canteens. With local varieties of delicacies(they actually are delicacies) like Sam-chat (samosa chat) and papadi chat and poha and what not, they are just everything that the students want; meeting spots for ghots(or ghosts, for folks like us) to discuss, love points for couples, and vella-panti hubs for others.

I sat on the blue bench and ordered a sam-fry. Everybody seemed happy, with exams over and the prospect of the coming holidays. Some people were already leaving the campus with their rucksacks on and cabs ready. My hostel’s rehdy was owned by an aged man in fifties. He had a small boy working for him. Everybody called him chhotu. I had seen him many a times there and he always used to greet me whenever I passed by. He was a dark, stout boy, not more than twelve years of age and had a grim face.

‘Tumhara naam kya hai?’ I asked him when he came to me with my order.

‘Vijay’, he said with a sheepish face.

‘Kitne saal ke ho tum?’ I said him with serious but polite expressions on my face.

‘unnhh....14 saheb, 14 saal ka hoon.’

I had expected that. These child-workers are well trained to answer such questions. I knew he was lying but I remained composed.

‘School jaate ho?’ I asked though I knew the answer. I could sense the rehdywala (owner) staring at me.

‘nahi sahib.’ It was the rehdywala this time.

‘kaha jayega sahab school? Agar ye school jayega to iska ghar kaise chalega?’

I gave him a questioning look. ‘Kyu, iske maa baap kya karte hai?’ I asked him.

‘Hai na saab, baap ek number ka bevda hai. Poora din padaa rehta hai., he said.

‘yeh jhoot bol raha hai na? Ye 14 saal ka nahi ho sakta.’ I tried to ask politely.

‘Nahi sahib, ye 14 saal ka hi hai.’, he curtly replied.

After a while I saw my friend coming and waved lazily to him. He sat beside me and ordered a shikanji (lemon juice) for himself. As usual he started complaining about the course and teachers and what not. I saw the boy looking towards my friend with eloquent eyes. I wondered what the boy was thinking about my friend. Probably he wished to tell him, ’my friend, I would face a thousand more problems than what you have, to lead a life like you’.

After a while, a college student with posh clothes and branded shoes stopped his cycle at the rehdy and shouted, ‘chotu, ek chai!’.