(Recap – In the last episode, I disclosed the story behind the nickname “Rishi ji” how it got annexed to Dubey ji.)
The span of time of backdrop of this story still is running in the past of the nineties of the last century. At that period of time my this Himalayan foot hill city was a small city in size and population. Today, it’s like a metropolitan city in all aspects of life and expansion. In that erstwhile time, the central part of the city was the main attraction for people as downtown. In the periphery of three to four km of the main city, other areas were undergoing through the process of development in a slow momentum. In fact, these were now semi- urbanized locations. These semi-urban areas too owned their own kind of small bazaar and were the purchasing centers of commodities by local people.
The fact was, my parental dwelling located in the adjacent country side, but I happened to stay in one of such semi-urbanized location. For that purpose, I had a room on rent. The sole purpose was, myself being in the field of journalism and it demanded to reach on some “places of occurrence” of any incidence randomly. Till that time, I was a bachelor and in true sense tried to live the life as a freak. By being in the profession, I too had been habitual of taking hard drinks almost on daily routine. In small city, often evening remained dull and generally I had had no work in the hand, at that slab of time. In my semi-urbanized location, there situated a food restaurant which could be counted as “up to the level” as per demand of that time.
This restaurant contained a medium size hall on the ground floor as a dinning hall, adjacent to that a kitchen and a supply-counter. From deep inside the hall on backside, a stair case led to the roof. Underneath this stair case a toilet was maintained. On the roof, restaurant owner had erected a makeshift tin roofed room. This room worked as “stay room” for the staff of the restaurant. Rest of the roof area remained empty. In our Indian social system, journalists ever have been enjoying a “position,” and at that old period of time, in a small city it carried a considerable weight. Reason being, in course of collection of news, a journalist was bound to deal with every section of public and private sector.
Be it the civil administration, police administration or any wing of Public works departments of different sectors. In common; the field of acquaintance and personal approach in every sector was accessible for a journalist with a weight. Even acquaintance with criminals, offenders and leaders of different political parties, from small level up to high level was common. All they remained in the contact list of a journalist. The small level criminals, who when got arrested on petty charges, in course to get released from the Police-station only, ever tried to seek recommendation of a journalist like me. It ever proved helpful to them. Since, a journalist by applying his connection could ease their immediate release from the local police station.
The same sort of “position,” I too happened to enjoy in the eyes of petty criminal type people, to them I was a man of influence. This made them to pay an additional respect to me and by virtue of this, I too got benefited on some accounts. It was in the sense, the amenities, they extracted by the dint of force at local level, I too indirectly enjoyed the same. The one of the amenities was, at the evening time, they people were given the liberty by the restaurant owner, to enjoy the hard drinks on the roof of the premise. There, on the instructions of owner, working staff served them on the roof the facility of glasses, water, ice cubes and snacks etc.
My financial position was not so sound to afford daily drink in some costly bar. This forced me to enjoy the same facility on the roof of the restaurant by the courtesy of these petty offenders. There, at the cheap cost, my evening time spent in a quality style. For, on various occasions theses petty criminals too happened to buy me the quota from there own pocket. In the same fashion, on one evening, I felt to urinate in the mid of the drinking session, hence I made a move to climb down the stair case, where toilet facility was maintained. When I moved down, one of the petty-criminals too accompanied me for the same purpose. Down in the stair case, before putting my foot on the last stair, in general I peeped in side the hall and stopped short. There, in the dim light of the dinning hall, I caught the sight of Tarun ji.
Tarun ji seated on a table, his back side was towards me. I could watch his profile by the side also but he was not in position to notice my presence. He set there in a gloomy mood. That was the month of the beginning of the summer season. I instantly noticed a plate filled with fried dal and some baked Indian bread ( tanduri roty or chapati), added with some salad. This was quite a simple dish in the menu of the restaurant. Besides, an old, time tasted type table fan too was kept before him. It seemed, either Tarun ji had collected that fan after some repair or intended to drop it to some local mechanic for repair. The fellow, who accompanied me looked at me with a questioning glance. I gestured him to keep hush by putting a finger on my lips and pointed my finger towards Tarun ji. I postponed to pee and climbed back on the roof.
The fellow too followed me back. On the roof, he quarried, ” what happened brother?” I told, “bro, the fellow who sat down there with the table fan, is my senior in the office. He was sitting alone in sad mood, this hurt me, hence I avoided coming into his notice. I didn’t want , he should come to know, I found him in such a condition.” Upon that the fellow abruptly said, ” Oh sir. I know him. He is a reserved type man and stays in a rented room in our colony. He works for some newspaper but doesn’t intermix with people. It’s said, early in the morning he leaves the room, comes late in evening. Then he prepares his food and washes his dirty cloth in night. In the early morning, whatever leftover food of the evening he ingests in hurry and leaves for the office. It’s also heard, he is a divorcee and his wife and two children stay in abroad. people say, his wife got remarried there with some one. He lost the wife in one hand and children by the second hand. Truly he is a miserable person.”
But the way of narration of the fellow was, as if, he was cracking some joke, if not derogatory. This made me feel sorry for Tarun ji. But it felt to me, whatever he narrated about Tarun ji was only stretching of the truth but not complete one. I always found Tarun ji with a happy attitude before friends and that all made me feel sad for his this sorry plight. Now the truth about these contents could be corroborated by Dubey ji alias Rishi ji anly. ( End of the Part 4th of the story. Cont’d ). Penned by — Vinay Pharasi —–
