Incredible people is what makes india incredible!

Engineer by profession, writer by heart, great thinker by mind, Here's a small story she wrote that touches your heart!

The truck driver

‘Nights are beautiful. They are rayless and echoing a profound peace in the atmosphere.’, wrote Mohan in his beloved diary. “mohan bhai.. kaka is calling you for unloading the truck.. come fast..”, said Raju. Mohan’s life is entrapped in this dark pitched time of the day. He sometimes imagines how it is to be living off in the days albeit he never regrets the timings of his work.

 Mohan is a truck driver. Nobody from his village ever imagined him to take up this profession. This was due to his outstanding performance in matriculation. Mohan was a man of few words. He neither talked much nor did he interact with many people. His capability to earn a respectable life was as if subdued by an overpowering desire.

Mohan climbed the truck to unload the liquor cartons. He himself is not a frequent drinker but he drinks sometimes, sometimes when his shell in which he actually resides is harmed.

After unloading he sat near the pond. The pond was full of dirt and blood sucking creatures but he doesn’t mind sitting amidst them. After all, we too have our baggage of setbacks. The light of the motor’s bobbing, illuminate the pond dwellers and one can see the traces of zig zag (browning) motion. The uphill road takes one near to sky and makes one in vicinity of the clouds and stars. Perhaps this was one of the reason for him to take control of the pedals, gears and steering.

Sometimes when he has to roll down through the cities, he keeps his eyes more on the other chauffer and passengers than the road. His high pedestal gives him the opportunity to scan the people with devour. The speed of the truck falters time and again owing to the traffic signals, round-about’s and  traffic jammed roads. But he peeps out of his finger stamped glass window to see the things his life is devoid of. He watches the school kids waving to him as the school bus drives past him. He scornfully watches the two wheelers showing off their driving skills which turns his scorn into admiration. He watches couple, timid girls and tamer boys. Our society has mutely given the right of expression to males. Some are giggling and tickling as if there’s no one else to see their budding sprouting attractions.

Not a very spectacular built with fairly charming face and a decent qualification leading to a handsome salary at hand is all that was needed in mohan’s village for a bachelor to fetch a pretty girl with heavy dowry. Mohan did not qualify these conditions. Instead he surpassed every single one of them with distinction. His parents precariously talked about their son. They were proud of owing an appurtenance as valuable as mohan. Everybody was keen to see the laurels this lad of theirs would bring home once he attains the socially accepted age for marriage. Mohan did his graduation and qualified the examination for junior engineer. Everybody in his family and village was groping for a suitable girl for mohan. Girl was found and marriage was fixed. Cousins, relatives, relations, all came, some from different lands and some from the same land. Females of the family started the days with native songs relating to marriage, of which no word could be understood by either the bride-groom or the other family members. The day ended with the males of the family drinking cheap, expensive liquor and making uncomfortable jokes about their marriage leading to embarrassment and hesitation on their faces the next morning. Mohan would be present in all the ceremonies, physically present.

Mohan was not happy. He barely knew what he wanted from his life but he knew exactly what he didn’t. His marriage fell in the latter. He wanted to roam around, walk every unknown, forgotten road.. he wanted to travel to new places and meet new people. And then pen down his weird, scary, funny encounters in a diary..which he planned to read (maybe to his grandchildren.. or just some children) when he got old. Marriage would bring inexorable circumstances to his wishes.. today marriage was inexorable.. heart roaming in a different land.. mind dawdling to accept the reality in front of him. Eyes helplessly wandering around.. searching for someone like him..  he looked at his right, his aunts were busy discussing their daughter-in-laws dowry,  to his left, his uncles talking about the prospects of establishment of private ventures in and around their village. He looked ahead, he saw young boys and girls giggling and kids playing.. who amongst them can answer his mind boggling question..

Indian marriage ceremonies infact every marriage ceremony is more than just the marriage of the couple. If you observe keenly, out of the total mass attending the ceremony only a few, seriously very few people apart from the family who come there, are truly there to bless and wish the married couple from their heart. Ceremonies such as these were ‘show-off-your-status’ thing. And the people invited got chances to try out new attires and pamper their taste-buds.  

Mohan was a learned man although he never understood a thing about the traditions his family and the people of his village boasted off. For him life was simple- ‘live a simple, worry-less, free life.’ Neither did he expect anything from others nor did he want others expectations to hover over him. But now the world around him was changing. Mohan studied because he thought that only education could help him untangle the knots of the reason of his yearning which accentuated everyday with the ascent of the sun. He had been told that education was a gift which had the power to transmute. As a kid he always imagined himself being transmuted by a black-masked conjurer to a land of ultimate-contentment. He had smiled and then paid whole attention to his studies thinking it as a step towards his search. Time passed by, old ones dead, new ones born. Draughts, famine, rain.. all came and gone. Heavy, monster looking contraptions made the bullock-carts idle. New set of people were seen around chunni-lal paan shop, chewing and hitting the spittoon, bleeding the earth.. Mohan read books, studied them..learned them. but never experienced them. He cleared his junior engineer exam. He would now go to a different land. A land he read about in books. A land which bore different people. Earlier his yearning was just banter between his books and him but now it had become impregnable. ‘In no time I am going to live and write about my experiences. Then you too will bore my signature and my name in the creased, yellow stained pages of yours..’ said mohan gesticulating towards his book shelf.

Time tests you..and keeps on testing you.. ‘mohan you have done us all very proud, but…’ said mohan’s father while placing his hand on his son’s shoulder. Mohan skipped a beat. His desperation was blabbering in his mind  ‘what is it now.. isn’t it enough.. haven’t I reached the point I had to before I could..i could..’ mohan was himself in a dilemma. He didn’t know what came after ‘I could..’ even if he wanted to ask his father, what would he say. Would he say that ‘I want to experience the world. Or I want to see new places. Or that I want to live alone for a while..’ He had no answer and so he decided to remain mute. His father continued.. ’son, you are our eldest one. And you are going to go to some foreign land to earn off a living. You have been obedient. Me and your mother care about you a lot. You staying in a distant land.. would worry us about your health and well-being. So monu we wanted to..’ father hesitated, looked back to have a glance of an old wrinkled lady whom he had married about 24 years ago. She passed a quick sharp signal which could only be comprehended by the man standing in front of mohan. ‘monu, we want you to get married before leaving this village.’ Mohan’s mouth turned sour. His face turned pale as if his face has been drained of blood. His mind boggled with questions.. ‘isn’t it the right time? Do I have to wait more..?’. ‘see mohan, you are our eldest son. We have your 2 sisters to marry off. We are not well off enough to spend much on these weddings. If your wife could bring some presents and blessings..it would do us all good.’ His father’s voice deepened as he carried on his tale of grief. Is that how life is lived..? cutting, bleeding, pillaging of peace from someone so dear to you, someone who dwells inside. This curse is ineffable.

Rains arrived late this year skipping half a month. First rains bring smiles on the farmers but scorn and worry on those who are ‘entrepreneurs’ because the rains ceases movement of customers. Children start screaming with joy begging their mothers to let them drench in the rain. The barrow owners cover the good with polythene to save it from being a waste. Mohan is sitting by the window sill, watching the diamond like droplets shedding from the sun getting their heads splashed on the rough ground. Plop, plop..plop, the pearls coalesce. the vat starts overflowing and one wonders on the enigmatic ways of the one who has loosened the hold on the pearls.

‘if it keeps on raining like this, I tell you mami ji.. we have to postpone monu’s marriage.. God  knows why it isn’t ceasing.’, said a cousin to mohan’s mother. ‘don’t say like this.! It’s my monu’s marriage.. nothing will go wrong.’, retorted his mother and smiled back at mohan. Though mohan took it more as a grin than a smile. The rain hampered his mobility, arresting him amidst faces and more faces. The only place he found himself without being surrounding by faces was on his terrace. He sat under the shelter of an old rusty corrugated tin sheet. Matchbox was damp enough to light the matchstick, anticipating the cigarette from burning into ashes. Lightning and the thunder reverberated, clamoring for attention. The winds blew..blew harder..the trees undulating under it’s spell. Waters making their own way down the slope..the nearby things wafting along with the stream.. harder the rain poured..harder the streams wafted. Suddenly the rain stopped and the sunrays shined through the perforated clouds. He rose and the rays lighted his face.. Mohan smiled and felt the warmth and life running again under his flesh.

‘I am sorry…’. Words drafted on a page shattered the hopes and dreams of his family. Marriage was called off. They tried to contact him in his office, but he wasn’t there. They searched for him..but he was nowhere to be found.

The sun rays flashed an expressionless face. Face bore by a man carrying diary, pen, few clothes, some money in a small bag. ‘bhaisaab ticket..where do you want to go? ’umm..shimla..’. 

- Incredible Payal