Girl At The Signal

She was walking along the road that would take her to the main highway. There was never any jump in her steps. Not since the last 4 months, when her father died and her mother started spitting blood while coughing. Her shoulders were slumped and her legs seemed to be dragging her lean body towards its destination. A destination that scared her. A destination that disgusted her. A destination that she could not avoid, not when her stomach growled with hunger. 

She reached the busy signal with 3 dozen pens in her bag. A pen was hardly worth Rs.10 but she had to beg the people sitting in those shiny cars to even consider buying one without bargaining. Half an hour of dodging the traffic and pleading got her a small packet of biscuits. She ate two biscuits, saved the rest for her mother, and got up again to do her duty.

She had learned a lot in these 4 months. She had learned to read faces and judge how long it would take for the person sitting in the car to get convinced to buy petty things that she sold. She knew who would feel sorry for her innocent face and who would observe her bony structure and pay her willingly. She also knew who would not budge even if she got a chance to cry out her sad story.

People who were new in her profession thought that females were an easy target and cars with kids were a sure sale. She knew better. Every face was different when it came to buying from the underprivileged like her. Females were kind-hearted but equally suspicious. Men were tough but most of them got uncomfortable when pestered. And kids in these big cities were mostly brats. She was not a beggar but was treated like one. Yet it had to be done.

Her body had become so accustomed to the traffic that she did not have to look at the signal to check if it is red. She moved as if on auto-pilot mode and tried to approach 10 cars before the signal turned green again. When she was with her 6th customer, she glanced back and identified a sure sale. A woman was sitting behind the wheel. She was looking in her direction with sad eyes.

The girl rushed towards the car. The window of the car was already rolled down. “Please buy a few pens, madam. Just Rs. 10. My mother is ill. I need to buy medicines and food for her.” She did not want to leave any stone unturned. The woman looked over at the girl once again with even more sadness. She took out a 100 rupee note from her pocket and said, “Give me 5 pens.” She took the money happily and began counting the pens while insisting she buys 10 instead. Just then the cars behind her started honking and the otherwise confident woman grew pale. She realized that her car had stopped and was not starting again.

Amidst the chaos of the traffic, the number of pens, and the leftover change, the woman left without any pens. The girl stared at the 100 rupee note like she had seen a ghost. Her look softened when she realized that it was hers to keep and spend. She began thinking of all the lip-smacking food she would be able to afford with it.

She was just 9 years old. Too young to understand the value of a 100 rupee note in comparison to her wants, yet too old to understand the importance of a 100 rupee note in comparison to her needs. She came out of her stance when she realized that she had missed a red signal. This fortune would not be spent thoughtlessly. She would ponder upon it later. She kept the lucky note in her pocket and got ready for the next set of customers. 

At the end of the day when she went home to share the news of her newfound treasure, she was met with a shock. Her mother was no more. She put her head on her mother’s chest and wept till her stomach allowed it. She sat in a corner and ate the remaining biscuits while her mother was taken away by the hospital.

 

She looked at the 100 rupee note again. Now that her mother would not need medicines, the money can be spent on herself. She can buy a vada-pav or chocolate with it. Surprisingly, her mouth did not water at the thought. 

She looked at the empty bed of her mother. The invaluable 100 rupee note had lost its appeal. She kept it in her innermost pocket determined to return it to the woman the next day on the same signal.