Javed

The story had started long ago. But this forgotten story got revived after receiving a letter from the insurance company.

I was an advocate in a city but in spite of my best efforts, the work was not satisfying to me. It became difficult to manage day-to-day needs. The cost of living in the city was also very high. There was no other source of income. Mother was sick. Due to his old age father could not manage farming any longer. Meanwhile, when I went to the village, I came to know that a letter had come from the insurance company.

How do I get a letter from the insurance company? I had not insured. Well after opening the letter, I came to know that the letter was in my name only and the manager of the insurance company had called me to meet him in his office regarding the payment of an insurance claim. I remained occupied with the same thought the whole night as to when I had not insured where was the question of an insurance claim? My parents also had no insurance. So whose insurance was this for which the insurance company was calling me?

I reached the insurance company on time. The manager of the insurance company told me that the final settlement of an insurance policy was due.

"But whose insurance"? I asked with surprise.

What the manager told me after this was going to fill me with both shock and surprise.

"This insurance was done by someone named Javed", the manager said.

"Javed ....? So is Javed dead?" I asked nervously.

"Yes, Javed died in Saudi Arabia, who had insured himself for one million rupees making you his sole nominee. Therefore, you will get one million rupees. You submit your identity card and bank account details here."

“But why me? Why did he make me a nominee?” I was surprised and asked.

 “I do not know that. But it is a fact that the deceased had made you his nominee”.

He showed me the details of the nominee and my name and address were there in the document.

"Was he your relative"? The bank manager asked. When he came to know about my name, he understood that he could not be my relative.

“Was he your friend?” The bank manager asked after that.

"Yes he was my friend," I said.

I called him my friend for the first time in my life.

His name was Javed. He was a resident of my own village. Although he was not my friend, I do not know why he called me his friend. He kept telling everyone in the village that he is my very special friend. He even said that he had studied with me. I was studying and living in the city then. Since I could hardly go to the village, people believed in his words. When I came to know about this, I even tried to tell some people that he is not my friend and he has never studied with me, he lied. However, no one showed any interest in getting my point right. On the contrary, they advised me like a philosopher that if someone considers me as a friend then what was wrong in it. Getting friends is a matter of great luck.

How could I refute them? It is also true that if someone considers you as a friend, why should there be any objection from you. Still, I did not know why he did it? I used to get very upset about this.

He must have been at least four to five years older to me. I did not even know where he had studied or whether had he studied at all. Whenever he met me, he used to ask, "How are you, friend?" He used to shake hands very gently and talk with the utmost respect.

There were a few shops in the village on the north side. Whenever I used to go to the shops, I used to find him standing near a paan shop there. He always greeted me with a smile. He used to talk about his unemployment whenever we met. From his talk, I could know that he was looking for a job frantically and was ready to accept any type of job. He was also looking for an opening in Arab countries and had got his passport ready. His parents were illiterate. His father used to work as a laborer. But due to old age, he could no longer be regular in his work. Javed used to worry about his aged parents.

Meanwhile, I had not gone to the village for several months. When I went to the village, I came to know that Javed had gone to Saudi Arabia. Let him go wherever he likes. I had nothing to do with him. Instead, I felt good that he had left the village.

I submitted all the required documents to the insurance company and returned to the village. I was not comfortable even after reaching the village. How did Javed die? Why did he make me a nominee? Being in dilemma with these disturbing thoughts, I started looking for the media, which helped Javed to go to Saudi Arabia. I soon got the address of the agency through which he had gone to Saudi Arabia. The agency reported that he had gone to work as a supervisor in a construction company. One day while going on the road, a vehicle hit him, causing his death. They did not have enough money to get the corpse transported to his village.

After a few days, when I came back to the village again, I came to know that a cheque of ten lakh rupees has come in my name. I had to deposit the cheque to my bank account. The bank was about three kilometers from my village. I had no means to go. Therefore, I left the house on foot.

I reached the bank as soon as it opened and deposited the cheque. The manager said that by tomorrow, the money would be credited to my bank account after clearance.

The next day, I withdrew all the money and returned to the village.

What should I do with so much money? This thought was going on in the mind for many days. Should I give all the money to Javed's parents or should I keep them with me? Or should I give them some money and keep the rest with me? What will Javed's old parents do with so much money? Their life is short. With this money, many of my problems may get resolved simultaneously. I could not understand what to do. If I decide to give all the money to them, why should I make so much fuss? For many days, my work suffered. I was in the deep whirlpool of turbulence. I could not understand what to do.

There were fields on the way to the bank. It was the month of March. Pigeon pea(Arhar )crop had grown in the field on both sides. Arhar was ripe and ready for harvest. The wind was blowing loudly, causing a mysterious sound by the ripe pigeon pea plants, as though many rattles were ringing together.

There was no danger of theft or robbery in our area. I had never heard of any such incident since I was conscious. Putting the money in a bag, I walked in a relaxed manner. Summer had set in. Being noon the road was very deserted. Suddenly I saw a man coming out of the fields of pigeon pea.

“Who is this man”? I thought in my mind.” Is he a thief or a decoit?”

By then, he came in front of me.

"How are you friend"? Saying this, he extended his hand for a handshake.

My eyes were wide open. It was Javed.

"Got the money"? He asked.

He was smiling, looking eye to eye, just as he used to smile when he first met.

My voice got faltered. I was not in a position to speak anything.

"You?" That is all I could get out of my mouth. I do not know what happened after that.

The family members told that I met someone in the village in my state of unconsciousness. The housemates brought me home. I came to my consciousness only in the late evening. The money was missing. Nobody knew as to what had happened to me.

The whole incident flashed before my eyes like the scenes of a movie. So is Javed alive? This thought created turmoil in my mind. The next day, I ran towards Javed's house in the morning. I met his father at the door of his house. Tears of happiness spilled from his eyes on seeing me.

Showing gratefulness, he greeted me with his folded hands "Thank you very much, son! Because of you, our old age will pass off easily now. Had you not been there, we don’t know what would have happened to us."

"Because of me! But what did I do?” I shrugged and asked.

“Yes, son, only because of you, who else?”

"You gave me ten lakh rupees yesterday afternoon. We will not forget your gratitude throughout our life."

He went inside the house and brought a bag. Take this; we forgot to return your bag yesterday.

It was the same bag in which I had brought the money from the bank.

"We heard that you were sick yesterday. Take care of yourself. May Allah give you a long life."

THE END

जावेद  - A Short Story In Hindi By Neeraj Neer

★★★★★ 

Drama

© Neeraj Neer

https://storymirror.com/read/story/hindi/6dknxe4f/jaaved/detail 

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