Big Days

The boy put the cell-phone back into the right pocket of his trousers.

It was a close‘well-wisher’.

Wishes would do him good today.  It was a big day for him.

People of his age, were always looking out for big days for themselves and he was no different.

The lane he was in was like many other lanes in this city. If ever someone needed a pictorial description of the words ‘bustling with life’, all they had to do was come here.

The boy looked at a young rag-picker stroking the head of a street dog near a garbage dump. It was hard to tell, who was dirtier and even harder to tell who was happier. The dog licked his face and the child smiled the most perfect smile. The boy compared the smile with the ones he’d seen on people in tele-ads. There wasn’t so much difference in the smiles as there was in the emotions they conveyed. The child was not pretending to be happy.

The lane was narrow and was lined with old buildings which seemed to jostle with each other for space. The boy walked on, his shoulders brushing against someone else’s more often than not.

He’d come to this city two months ago and he’d come to this lane in particular, just a couple of times since.

The boy had always been determined. He loved putting in hard work and he’d put in a lot over the last year. This city was known for its undying ways of providing opportunities to people who came asking for one. He’d come asking for his and he’d got it. He allowed himself a smile as he thought about how far he’d come. It was in no way as cheerily conspicuous as the rag-picker’s.

The boy looked at the chaat-house to his left and the pot-bellied vendor counting currency notes before putting them into a coffer-box. The boy loved chaats. There was one such establishment right below the building he was staying in. He liked chutney particularly. He’d been indulging himself every alternate day but it wasn’t an extravagant indulgence.

He wouldn’t indulge himself today. It would be petty to do so on his big day.

He wiped the sweat that had trickled down his forehead onto his eyebrows. It was very sultry today.

He’d gotten used to the heat and humidity but that didn’t make them any less oppressive.

On his right by the lane, sat numerous hawkers selling their wares.  The heat didn’t seem to numb their enterprising spirit. No, it was business as usual for them. A young girl in a shockingly pink salwar suit was bargaining in a loud shrill tone with one of them. She was apparently interested in a pair of very fancy sandals. She faintly resembled one of his sisters back at home. However, none of his sisters shared her liking for fancy sandals mostly because they had never seen any.

The boy looked at the four-way intersection ahead. A policeman stood in the middle on a small platform, blowing his whistle intermittently. He wanted to make a difference, and it would have helped had the people had let him do so. People here, will only worship you if they’ve put you on a pedestal themselves. One could not be an exception to this scheme of things.

The boy reached the busy junction and stopped for a moment to look at the old hotel that had towered above this intersection and had imposed its shadow on the lanes below for a lot many years. The boy had stopped to look at it the last time he’d visited this place too.

Its walls were oblivious to change. Some things should always have such a quality. They serve as reminders of things forgotten, or more appropriately of lessons forgotten.

The boy walked on ahead.

The lane he’d walked into was even more crammed. A much younger boy clad in a school uniform bumped into him hard. The school boy smiled, apologized and scurried on. The boy smiled back very hesitantly.

He used to play with the neighbourhood kids back home. They didn’t go to school but they were a fun bunch nonetheless. He’d been away from home for quite a while.

He did like being there. His family albeit terribly poor was very warm-hearted. There were times when his uncles and their families would visit them. The meals were simple but the joy profound.

Here in this city, he had dearly missed all of this.

You can have a million people around you and still be alone and unheard.

The boy remembered the policeman at the intersection.

However, his big day was above all of this.

Focus and unwavering focus at that, was imperative.

The boy marched ahead and these thoughts meandered as quickly out of his mind as they had meandered in.

He looked at his watch for the time. He’d purchased it when he’d come to this city. It was a good standard digital watch and time was of the essence.

Punctuality was a dying virtue in the youth of today.

Even on their big days, most people his age had very less regard for being where they have to be on time.

He was not like them. He couldn’t be.

After all, he could only have one big day.

The boy now stood in front of a large restaurant which was even a more apt example of 'bustling with life'.

There was a seating area outside where people sat around tables which were under those typically red Coca-Cola umbrellas.

The boy walked into the restaurant past this area.

He’d been here just once before but hadn’t stayed to eat or drink.

He wouldn’t be doing so today either.

He looked around and took cognizance of  the very large number of people having conversations of their own at their respective tables.

The restaurant was suited to bourgeois tastes. The decorations inside weren't elaborate but the patrons it had won over the years of its existence ensured that it would outlive its more opulent competitors. But, outlive would not be an apt word to use here.

The boy ignored one of the attendants who wished to lead him to an empty table.

No, that table was destined to be empty, the boy thought.

He looked at his watch for the time again.

The boy noticed that he was standing next to a table at which a mother and her very young daughter were seated.

He moved away. He didn't know why, but he did. He felt he’d rather not be close to them.

His watch beeped faintly. It was the alarm he'd set.

The boy’s mind eased into a state of thoughtlessness.

There were two more beeps. These were from under his shirt near his belly.

For the briefest of moments he felt a searing pain.

But that was it.

He’d have heard the screams.

He’d have seen shards of glass fly.

He’d have seen the walls shake.

He’d have seen blood.

But he didn’t.

He was the first to leave.

There were many who followed him, to wherever he had gone off to.
They might have even gone to some place else.

They were just not here anymore.

His ‘well-wishers’ would be happy.

A nation would grieve.

His family would not know how to react.

But how would all of this matter?

What mattered was that few people his age have had or will have bigger ‘big days’.