Of smiles and satisfaction

Six year olds do not have a keen understanding of how hard one should hit a rubber puck during a fun session of classroom football in the teacher’s absence.

Six year olds also buckle under their teacher’s dangerous interrogative gaze. 

Thus, Rajeev was held responsible by his honourable classmates for having broken the window next to their teacher’s desk.

‘You could have hurt somebody’, Mrs. D’Souza said admonishing Rajeev for his valiant effort to score a goal for his team. This effort got its due reward in the form of a note from Mrs. D’Souza in his class diary.

‘Make your father read this and I should see his signature on this tomorrow first thing in the morning.’ - Mrs. D’Souza said in a tone that had horrified six year olds for a good many years.

Rajeev held the diary like he was holding a vicious serpent. 

For the ensuing forty-five minutes, he looked at Mrs. D’Souza apologetically as she taught them long division, but to no avail.

The last bell of the day rang, as Rajeev slowly made his way out of the class throwing Mrs. D’Souza one last look of appeal, the only response he got to which was a stern frown.

The walls in Rajeev’s world were beginning to crumble. His father Dr. Vikraant Gupta wasn’t one to go to with a note from one’s class teacher. For his father, the severity of this transgression would not be forgivable. His father valued perseverance and most of all obedience and he had known this ever since he was a toddler, he had known this even before he was left bereft of a mother. His mother Anita, was the typical demure, gentle mother any child would wish to have, this Rajeev had concluded from all his pictures with her as an infant, in none of which she had anything other than a bright smile on her radiant face. 

‘Chhote!!’- a voice called out to Rajeev from a veritable sea of children and their parents, outside of the school gate. 

Hari had been the parent Rajeev was never made to feel the need of for the part of his life post Anita’s passing away. 

Rajeev searched for a dark, wrinkled face with a cleft lip which made the smile it wore even more heart warming. He soon found the face he was looking for standing next to a grey Ambassador Mark III. 

Wearing a pale white shirt and a somewhat whiter pair of flannel trousers, stood Hari, the man most responsible for Rajeev’s well being from the moment Rajeev came into this world.

‘Chalen?’- Hari asked. He was always amused to see Rajeev’s face light up on seeing him after school.

Today, this phenomenon occurred but for a fleeting moment.

‘Mrs. D’Souza, Hari, she’s given me a note for Papa to read and sign on’- Rajeev said despairingly. 

‘What did you do? You aren’t very mischievous!! What made her write a note to Saheb?- Hari asked sympathetically. 

‘It was an accident. I broke one of our classroom’s windows’, - Rajeev answered.

‘Arre, do not worry, Chhote, cheer up, today, Amna has prepared some delicious paranthas’- Hari said as he whizzed through Marine Drive. Bombay in 1975 was a city bustling with people pouring in from all across the country, all of them striving to achieve what they had set out to after leaving their villages and towns. Hope is contagious in Bombay. It always has been.

Dr. Vikraant Gupta, was a well established doctor working at Bombay’s revered Breach Candy Hospital. His father had been one of Zaveri Bazaars most successful diamond traders and had ensured that his son was given the finest education possible and bequeathed enough to ensure that for generations to come, his lineage had enough to live extravagantly.

Rajeev, wasn’t allowed an indulgent lifestyle. His father wanted him to grow up following the principles his own father had raised him with. ‘There’s no greater crime than being dishonest to oneself, self-deceit is the biggest lie,’- he always told Rajeev. Rajeev didn’t know what deceit meant but never asked, as he was content knowing that self- deceit was something abysmally wicked.

Hari swerved into the Guptas’ driveway as an old security guard opened the gates of Vindhya Manor, the Gupta family’s residence for the last twenty years. 

He stopped in the portico as Rajeev got off and then parked the car next to the lawn as Rajeev waited by the door.

‘A bath first or lunch right away?- Hari asked as he took Rajeev’s bag off his shoulders. ‘Bath first.’- Rajeev replied still looking as rueful as ever. 

Hari had been a part of the Gupta household ever since he came to Rajeev’s grandfather looking for a job some thirty years ago. No one knew what made Rajeev’s grandfather agree to hire him as a domestic help but they were all the better for it. Dr. Gupta was a lad of six then and he held Hari in high regard right from the moment he was introduced to him.

When they moved into Vindhya Manor from their small dinghy house, Hari was given a room of his own and quite a spacious one at that.

‘I’ll ask Aamna to set the table. Bathe quickly or else the food will get cold’- Hari instructed Rajeev.

Hari laid out fresh new clothes for Rajeev as he went into the bathing room.

Blue was Rajeev’s favourite colour, Hari remembered as he took out a sky blue t-shirt from Rajeev’s closet. Hari knew everything there was to know about Rajeev, and although he was ashamed of ever admitting it, he knew Rajeev much better than Rajeev’s father himself.

He knew Rajeev loved playing with tiny sea shells on Juhu Beach, he enjoyed calling out to the Mehras’ dog from outside their gate, he loved the smell of new notebooks, and he loved lying down on dewy grass. 

At the dining table, Rajeev chewed on his favourite paranthas as if it were peat. Hari remembered the day of Anita’s sudden and tragic death.  Her son, wailed on endlessly, more so because of being surrounded with unfamiliar faces and being unable to seek out the face he loved most. 

‘Do you think Papa will sign on the note Hari? What if he doesn’t?’- Rajeev inquired, now utterly disconcerted. 

‘I think we should worry about that when he comes home later in the evening. 

What I want you to do now is, go into your room and bring out your football. Whoever got anything out of sulking at the dining table?’- Hari said clearing Rajeev’s plate.

Rajeev brought out the ball and the two of them went out to the lawn for Rajeev’s daily dose of physical exercise. For Hari, playing football with Rajeev was the highlight of everyday’s proceedings. Rajeev’s bubbly fervour invariably warmed Hari’s heart besides leaving him panting profusely. Today, Rajeev didn’t exhibit the same infectious enthusiasm he almost never failed to show.

The guard opened the gate as Dr. Vikraant Gupta's car made its way onto the driveway and pulled up in the portico. He got off holding a brown box and smiled at the two of them. ‘I’ve brought pastries from Mrs. Pirzana’s bakery’, Vikraant said going inside. 

Rajeev didn’t react to this. Pastries and a note from one’s class teacher were too much for the mind of a six year old to think about. He picked up his football and walked back into the house, with Hari following him concernedly.

Dinner was a private affair in Vindhya Manor, and the domestic help in the household took leave of the family as it dined, discussing the events of the day.

Rajeev had his diary on his lap as he slurped on the bowl of curd, leaving most part of the chappatis and sabzee untouched.

‘What’s wrong Rajeev? Is anything troubling you?- Vikraant asked noticing his son’s lack of appetite.

Rajeev put his diary on the table open to the page on which the dreaded note was written. 

Vikraant perused the small note as a dismayed Rajeev looked on, almost shivering in trepidation. 

 ‘Leave the table and go to your room’- Vikraant said as he kept Rajeev’s diary aside.

Vikraant was livid, this much was clear to Rajeev who was slowly welling up.

‘Papa please!!’- Rajeev said tremulously.

‘LEAVE!!’- Vikraant reiterated.

Rajeev left clutching his diary.
He didn’t read his daily chapter from Aesop’s Fables, which his father had purchased for him a month ago.

Hari switched his bed side lamp off and placed the book back on the shelf on the wall.

The child’s father had asked him to go see him in his room before he went off to sleep.

Vikraant was sitting on his bed reading a journal when Hari knocked on his door.

‘Come in’- he said as Hari entered.

Hari was aware of why Vikraant had summoned him. It was the last day of the month, the day his salary found its way into his coffer box.

Vikraant handed Hari a wad of notes and said-‘You’re doing a fine job Hari. Thank you!!’

Just as Hari turned to leave, Vikraant called him back.

‘You’ve been more a part of Rajeev’s upbringing than I could ever manage to be. For this he shall be eternally grateful to you and so shall I. The greatest satisfaction in life is to your child smile. And I know you’ve been more satisfied in this respect than I have. He has been more of a son to you than to me. ’-Vikraant said, his voice quivering a little.

Vikraant had been a gracious employer but not once had he spoken to Hari using such heartfelt words. Hari did not know how to respond and mumbled an incoherent- ‘Thank you Saheb‘.

'Anyway, just get me Rajeev’s diary, I need to sign the note his teacher sent’- Vikraant said, having regained his composure.

‘Yes, Saheb’- Hari said and left the room to fetch the little boy’s dairy.

The next afternoon Rajeev left his classroom tired as ever albeit with a strange feeling of contentment. 

He walked out as once again a sea of people greeted him and a familiar voice called out – ‘Chhote’. 

Hari was standing next to their car as Rajeev ran up to him. ‘He signed, Hari, he signed’- Rajeev said as he got into the car. 

His face wore a brilliant smile. 

Hari smiled back.  

He felt a little sorry for Vikraant as he acknowledged how this particular satisfaction would almost always be- just his.