Amidst the sultry afternoons of June, it was common to see people lose their cool, quite a few times during their journey. Everyday thousands like me travelled from Lucknow to Kanpur, worked their energy out at their jobs and then returned back to the capital in the evening. The train took 2 hours to make it from the capital to Kanpur. I preferred to stand near the gate and observe the people on board with my earphones plugged in. When people lost cool under the scorching heat, they’d get irritated at pretty much everything and get into petty quarrels. That was the moment when Brij would come to the rescue, with his regular pile of happiness, graciously decorated in the neat plastic basket. He sold chocolates. He sold happiness.
I saw him every day. Most of the times it would be me pulling him up from the tracks just when the train’s whistle would blow. He’d smile at me and stand with me at the gate, waiting for his buyers to get adjusted. Once the train was soaring through the winds, he would begin his business. He sold chocolates. He sold happiness. Why do I say so? Because, the way he carried himself was beautiful. His face was always full of smiles; customers would literally feel like gods. You’d bargain with him, he’d finally agree, but the smile would never fade. His voice was bold and positive. He could talk you into buying them for your kids even if you had a staunch dislike for them.
That day, I saw him. I smiled at him but I didn’t receive the same smile. I closely observed him, trying to sell his stock. Apparently the scorching summer was a bit too harsh on his chocolates. The semi-solid chocolates weren’t attracting the regular number. Whatever meagre he earned, hit a new low that day.
Maybe because of the weekend that lay ahead of me, or his deranged smile or maybe because I didn’t want the heat to win over me, I called up to him.
“Brij, apna interview dega mujhe? (Brij, will you let me interview you?)”
His face beamed with a shy laugh. He thought of it as a joke, but somehow my expressions made him realize I wasn’t joking.
“Kya karenge aap mera interview le ke? Mai TV pe aaunga? (What will you do with my interview? Will I be on TV?)”
I wanted to just help him, and judging him by his attitude, I was afraid he would deny my help and so I told him:
“Bade bade log interview dete hain na to unko hum paisa dete hain (When Big celebs let us interview them, we do so in return of money)”
Interview and he’ll get money for it. He didn’t even ask me the sum. He agreed. The smile had returned.
On his demand, I agreed to go to his home. Instead of Kanpur, this time I stopped at a slum, near The Ganges. In the way, I made it clear to him that this won’t come on TV but I will get it printed in my magazine and will give a copy to him, the next time I see him. I doubt he was listening to anything that I was saying; he kept clearing the way ahead for me until we finally reached home.
Home was nothing qualified to be called so yet it was designed to comfort them in the best possible way. People like me and you would call it filth but for them, it was their home. A devoted woman, two malnourished yet happy children and Brij together completely made me forget what lay outside. I saw their faces. They were so happy that the man of the house was being interviewed. I asked him a few set of questions about life and the answers hurt me but you know everything about that. The most spectacular part was yet to happen.
After I was done asking him questions, I was feeling low. I desperately wanted to help him. I offered him two thousand rupees and told him that this was what the people got for giving us their important time. He wasn’t expecting this. It was too much for him. Two thousand was too much for him! At first, he wasn’t accepting it, but once I thrust the amount into his pockets, he never took them out. I was about to leave when he asked me to dine with them for once. There was no way I could have refused that.
The food was simple but for the affluent, wasn’t delicious, yet it was pleasing me. I asked him what he would do with the money. He said he’d buy a cool box to store his chocolates in so that they would not melt. I was amazed. Out of everything he could do with this, he wanted to buy a cool box! I realized, come what may, Brij would never beg for anything; he’d fight off everything but with respect and yet provide for his family. I went with him to Kanpur, bought him the cool box and returned to his place.
He boasted of the cool box to his children as if he had the most amazing thing in the world! His children shared the same excitement in their eyes! They’d play with it, sit in it, one would make a car out of it dragging his brother from the outside. Point is, they were happy! Happy in whatever meagre resources they had. They had no problems, with the government, with the rich, with their own kind. They were far more contented than you or I could ever be!
I was happy because Brij was happy. I waved them goodbye and as I was making my journey towards Kanpur, I recalled my girlfriend’s words:
“The world is full of sufferings. The root cause of sufferings is desire. Kill the desires and you’ll be happy!”
Today, I see him selling chocolates to the people in front of me. Many know him, and they can see his new cool box. Many congratulate him and buy the chocolates just for the happiness that his glowing face displays. He’s showing them the page where his interview is printed. He’s bragging about it. The income is still meagre, but the content is way more than what we can possibly earn. Seeing him, I feel if each one of us, tries to make the day for someone less privileged, just once every month, it’ll help in balancing a lot of things. Happiness for you, happiness for them; aren’t we all the same?
Note: Image is only for representational purpose.
