Reward

Creative Non-Fiction 

Reward

Subhash Chandra

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The sun was singeing; trudging from one stall to the other, runnels of sweat zigzagging on the back felt like insects crawling. We were at the first World Auto Expo at the Exhibition Grounds in 1986, mainly because our six-year-old son was crazy about automobiles, especially cars.   

His toy collection consisted mostly of cars, vans, buses, and trucks. On his birthdays, his three Aunts and close family friends gifted him only car toys. We bought him a remote-controlled car—the newest toy on the market. It became a task to make him complete his homework.  

Once on a visit to our family friends, the lady of the house quizzed him, “What’d you like to become when you grow up?”

He lingered on the question, giving it a serious thought and replied, ‘Truck Driver.’

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His love of cars and driving continues unabated into his adulthood. He never tires of being behind the wheel. Once a year, he takes a break from his busy corporate grind and drives us to some tourist spot. Thanks to his passion for driving, we have been on holiday to Shimla, Nainital, Mount Abu, Udaipur, Jaipur and Nahan. Once he drove us to Mumbai, where he worked at the time; the journey by car was a huge fun. On the way, we stopped at wayside dhabas for tea and snacks – not quite hygienic but laced with warm, friendly smiles and solicitous care – and spent a comfy night at hotel Novotel.   

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We were exhausted … totally sapped out. Providentially, a few chairs were lined up in front of a Stall, and we plopped on them, exhaling relief. After a few minutes, a uniformed man walked towards us with three chilled Coca-Cola bottles.

“But we haven’t ordered any,” I said, looking at him, surprised.

“Sir, Ma’am has sent,” he said, pointing towards a Stall.

“Which Madam?”

The next minute, we saw a young lady dressed elegantly in a sari, gracefully approaching us. She gave us a pleasant smile, “Good afternoon, Sir, good afternoon, Ma’am. Sir, I was your student in English Honours. It’s intolerably hot, please have the cold drinks.”

I looked towards my wife, who nodded imperceptibly. 

“Sir, you were one of the best teachers we had.”

I mumbled my thanks, a little embarrassed.

“Have you taken up a job with TELCO (Tata Engineering and Locomotive Company), the Stall she was managing. They had showcased AC buses, heavy trucks, and specialised army vehicles.

“No, Sir. This is a summer job for pocket money. Actually, I am preparing for the Services.

“Oh, that is great.”

“Bless me, Sir, I succeed,” she said and bent to touch my feet.

I did it from the core of my heart. “Okay, Sir, take leave of you.” 

The cold drink tasted like Amrit

I patted myself for declining the Times of India offer to join them as a trainee journalist when I secured first position in the part-time Journalism course and was awarded the Times of India and Kulapati Medals, along with a cash prize.

Teaching brings unexpected cool rewards!