“Babu, will you please give me two rupees more than your Rickshaw Bhada?”
The poor rickshaw puller innocently asked me on my way to Sheltar Chak from Barabati Bali Yatra (one of the traditional carnivals of Odissa) Maidan.
Before I could say a thing, he added, “I’m just requesting, don’t give if you don’t feel like”.
I retorted back with irritation — “but, you had agreed for Rs 6/- for the bhada, why two rupees more?”
He was mum for some time and then said “I’m falling short of Rs 2/-”.
“From what?” I questioned him again threateningly…
“I’m falling short of Rs 2/- to buy a Milk Dabba for my 6 months old baby. I’ve collected Rs 38/- from my entire day’s rickshaw pulling and it amounts to Rs 40/-”.
I tried to open my mouth to say something. Before I could say anything, he stopped the rickshaw, looked back, saw my face and said, “no problem, I just requested you, if you don’t want.. don’t give, will wait for some more time and by God’s grace I hope will be able to earn two more”.
Then he started paddling towards my home. After a couple of minutes, he just said to himself (addressed to his kid), “By the time I collect two more, shops will be closed, and you (his kid) will have to sleep again in hunger tonight”.
It was 11 pm at night in the month of November, quite late in the night for the eastern part of India. He was pulling me in his cycle rickshaw from the Bali Yatra Maidan to my brother’s place at Cuttack. I was in my 12th standard at that time, studying at Ravenshaw College. I got late watching music and dance numbers in the famous Habib Melody on that evening. No one agreed to go with a fare of Rs 6/-, all the rickshaw-walas were charging Rs 10-12/-. I was bit surprised, when this one agreed for Rs 6/- after a moment’s thought. May be he was a bit calculative at that time and thought of loosing the chance to earn Rs 6/- more, just to get that milk dabba home in time. Even though, he fell short of Rs 2/- he did not loose faith on his profession.
A 10-15 minutes journey by rickshaw from Barabti to Sheltar Chak. In the entire conversation, I was silent for most of the time, thinking about him, his 6 months old baby, me, my friends and the society. I was not that matured at that time to understand everything. During Bali yatra, I found some people throwing money on anything and buying trinkets indiscriminately. But, the same people would have gone to any extent to bargain with a poor rickshaw puller. I too had spent a lot from my pocket money on eating and watching melodies and operas. Whereas the rickshaw puller struggles to save Rs 40/- to feed his small kid (forget about himself and his other family members).
The value of Rs 2/- for him was the value of his kid’s life, where as it had no meaning for some other people. Such is the denomination of money, some thing which has no value for someone might be a whole life for some body else.
Those two rupees ….. aamjunta think about it.
