PART-II – 14 Years Later
The stage was the same, the characters
somewhat different and the story still going on. Azad was now in class 9;
rising up the ranks of the education table. Kamala was now a house maid and
used to work in 4 houses. It has been 3 years since Harish passed away. He
never was going to live much, after that terrible accident that twisted his
fate and his body. Kamala was now 41 years old but looked more like a 60+
woman, life wasn’t too kind to her. Well, kindness was never something she
expected from anyone, be it man or god. She knew it was always going to be
every –man-for-himself and so there she is; still sweating down more than she
can, so that she can provide Azad with his education and food. He was a bright
student of his class, always somehow managed to keep his place in the top
three. Harish would surely have been happy today, had he been still alive.
This particular day will stand out in
Azad’s life; because this is the day his life will be changed forever; just
like it changed Harish’s life; on that very day of the fireworks accident. The
reason he was not angry on gods for abandoning him on that day was that he knew
it would happen. He knew when and where it would happen, and he also knew he
had to get injured that night, for if he didn’t, his universe would have taken
a different route. There would have been a lot of possible changes in his life,
if he didn’t go to the factory that night; the very first change being that he
would have lived to see this day. Now, how did he know?
The Three-Legged man.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
It was a pale summer evening, and Azad was
returning from his school. The wind had died down, and the leaves didn't move
much, nature wasn't too kind that day. Azad was walking through the forest, when
he suddenly heard a rustling sound behind him. The sound that is made when
someone walks silently over the fallen leaves on the ground.
“Is your name Azad, young boy?”, called out
a hoarse and cracked voice.
Azad turned around and saw an old man
holding a walking stick, clothed shabbily with his ears pointing out, and a
perverse nose. Long nails protruded out with food stuck in between them, and a
broken nail here and a torn out shoe there, creamy colored teeth and lengthy
hair tied at the back to form a ponytail.
Azad starts trembling on his feet at the
sight of the old man, and with a shaky voice he squealed, “Who seeks him?”
“Ah, that must mean you are Azad! Lovely to
meet you, son. I am Drotha, a dream-trader. Or, also known as the three-legged
man!”
Azad was now even more muddled; he kept
looking at the old guy with his gleaming brown eyes as he tried to make out
what this guy was saying. Finally, he spoke, “Where is your third leg? I want
to see it.”
“Oh my, you are interested in my third leg
more than the fact that I am a dream trader?” asked Drotha.
“Yes” said Azad firmly; slowly gaining his
confidence now.
“Well son, you are looking at it. Everyone
looks at it, and yet somehow cares to ignore it. Now, if you don’t see what is
lying in front of you, is it my fault? Or, is it yours?” said Drotha, now
showcasing a smile on his wicked face.
“Do you always talk in riddles, sir? Or do
you not know how to answer straight?” said Azad, now holding the upper hand in
the conversation, and beaming with confidence.
“You rat! You dare talk to me like that?!
You little sarcastic, stupid fool!” says Drotha, now spitting venom from his
mouth, and his feet quaking which is calmed by the walking stick. Azad studies
Drotha from head to toe, and spots it. With a broad smile on his face, Azad exhilarates,
“The stick! You don’t have a third leg, it’s the stick, and it acts as your
third leg. That’s it!”
Drotha was still angry, but amused at the
child’s observation. But his amusement was short lived, he started again at
Azad, “I scold you and you ignore what I have to say? I am the dream trader! Do
you know how many people would die to see me? Do you? Obviously, you don’t, you
ignorant fool!”
“If they die, then what is the point of
seeing you?” said Azad, half-willingly.
“Oh! You have got a sharp tongue kid; I’ll
give you that. Why don’t you ask your father that? Oh, wait, you can’t because
he’s dead! Do you even know why I am here? He asked me to meet you when you
would be 15 years of age, but now it seems like a mistake for I can’t stand a
conceited boy” and said that he turned to leave, and just then Azad shouted,
“Wait! What do you know of my father? I am sorry sir, I didn’t want to sound
that way, I was just being cautious. Please tell me about my father, and how do
you know him?” Azad was now almost on the verge of emotional breakdown hearing
his father’s name; the one person he admired more than his mother, the one who
taught him to dream, and everything else in between.
“Ah, now you want to say sorry and seek
answers? Where did that smart tongue of yours go? Answer me!”, said Drotha, in
a wicked voice.
“I am sorry, sir Drotha. I won’t say
anything anymore, please just tell me more about my father.”, said a sobbing
Azad.
“Well, I am still angry at you, but out of
admiration for your father and to save my time, I will answer you. But promise
me you will behave yourself!” said Drotha in a commanding tone.
“Yes sir, I do.”
“Very well then, I met your father on the
day of the firework accident, he was so full of life and dreams, I liked his self-belief,
you know” said Drotha.
“The Accident?”, asked a bewildered Azad.
“Yeah, the one your father encountered
before you were born, he had told you about that, right?” asked Drotha.
“Yes, he did. But he never mentioned you,
or any like of yours, sir.”, said Azad.
“Of course he didn’t. You know, he knew
there would be an accident that night, before it even happened. But you know
the funny thing, boy? I warned him about it, but he still went anyway. ” said
Drotha, and smiled again.
To be continued...
To be continued...
Nice :)
ReplyDeleteThank you...
DeleteIt's a quarter to four in the morning and I'm craving for more. The reason why I mentioned the time is not to flaunt the fact that I'm an insomniac, but to point out the fact that good writing makes me lose the essence of time. (And no I'm not a slow reader).
ReplyDeleteMoving on, this is...turning out to be a very interesting read. It's realistic and yet at the same time it holds a very magical realism in it which makes me want to explore every crevice and every nook and cranny because that magical realm just adds to the charm.
Also the pun to the protagonist's name and to the reference of the story is very well thought of. Very clever writing there.
Your understanding of poverty is a class or its own, I'll give you that.
Now I'm curious about the dream trader.
I'm hooked. Update soon!
[Guess who this is! ]
Well, someone i know maybe... :P
DeleteWell after forward guessing and retaliating, i have come to the conclusion that it is you Jain! But thanks a lot. And glad that you liked it.. :D
Delete