Chhotu

It was a cold winter morning. The slight drizzle which had started in the morning had threatened to turn into a downpour but could not gather enough momentum. However, the intensity of the rain had increased somewhat. Young Chhotu had been exposed to much severe winter, yet it did not stop him from feeling bone-chilling cold in the open space of dhaba.

This dhaba had been his home for long, at least since his memories served him. The owner of dhaba had told him that he had seen him standing in a blinding rain on one rainy morning. Since Chhotu could not tell him his name, address or the names of his parents, he had taken pity on him and taken him home. There was, however, no space for young Chhotu there as the dhaba owner himself had a big family. His wife was not willing to keep Chhotu in the house. The dhaba owner did not want to abandon him and had brought him to his dhaba and allowed him to sleep there during the night. In the daytime, he had to find some corner in the dhaba to sit or play. Sometimes he used to play outside dhaba, but not very far. The owner did not want him to get lost again.

As he grew slightly bigger, he started helping the owner in odd jobs like cleaning some small utensils or serving at tables. He assumed that he must have belonged to some good family since he had been wearing a nice dress when dhaba owner found him. One thing was certain that his parents had not abandoned him, he had merely gotten lost.

He was lucky to find a nice person to look after him who treated him kindly. But even he could not afford to send him to school. He assumed that as he grew older he shall move to some unskilled jobs. Perhaps he could later acquire some skill like masonry or carpentry.

He looked wistfully at the falling rain. Sometimes it filled him with sadness. At the same time, he had few expectations from life. He will be happy to get a roof over his head and two square meals in a day when he grew up. He could even become assistant to dhaba owner. In fact, none of the owner’s children was interested in running the dhaba so the dhaba itself may get handed over to him.

The boy was only twelve but the time had made him mature beyond his years.

….

It was late afternoon and there was relative quiet in the place Chhotu had started clearing the tables. He saw a newspaper which someone had left behind. He was about to throw it along with other bits of paper when he saw himself staring at his own photo. It was of course an old photo of his when he was a small child. He could pick up alphabets but could not read the news properly.

He took the newspaper to the dhaba owner and told him, “It looks like my photograph. Can you tell me what it is about?”

The owner took the paper from his hand and started reading the item. Chhotu saw that he was totally engrossed in reading the news item.

When he looked up, Chhotu saw a strange emotion in his eyes, a mix of awe and surprise and an extreme elation.

The owner got up and hugged Chhotu, “Finally you have found your home.”

Chhotu was surprised, “This is my home. Why do I need another home?”

The owner explained to him in detail, “This is a news item about your family. Your parents had lost you about eight years ago when I found you. It seems your grandparents are millionaires. Your parents died in an accident along with their two children recently. This has led to renewed efforts by your grandparents to locate you. Your parents had also made efforts to locate you after you got lost, but after failing in the effort they had abandoned the search.”

All of this was difficult for Chhotu to absorb at one go. He looked at the owner as if prodding him to continue.

The owner took a sip from a glass of water. “There is an advertisement accompanying the news item wherein your grandparents have appealed to the general public for information about you. I will contact them immediately.”

He dialled the number given in the advertisement. He spoke on the phone. After disconnecting he informed Chhotu that his grandparents will be coming the next day to take him back.

….

Chhotu did not sleep properly throughout the night. He kept on dreaming of his new home. ‘Whether he will be treated properly in the new house or will be used for cleaning the house?’ If those people were really his grandparents, then he need not worry. He will be living the life of luxury. Perhaps he may even get to go to school.

…

He got up early in the morning, as usual, cleaned the dhaba and sat waiting for the owner of dhaba. The man had been kind to him and provided a roof over his head. Although some could not be said about his family as they had refused to accept him in their house.

…

Just then he saw a car stop outside and an old couple got out of the car.