Shrikrishna Bhave

Others

4.4  

Shrikrishna Bhave

Others

The Lone Sentinel

The Lone Sentinel

4 mins
299


The Lone Sentinel ! (A story of May 2020, when the corona struck with venom and lakhs of Migrants were stranded most without jobs, some with)


Consequent to the pandemic, our society, like the rest of the city & the world is under lockdown. What it means for people like me, is like for everyone else, office calls, some work, housework, consuming content on TV/Netflix, reading etc and above all major food indulgences ! But there is another strata of people, service providers to us - our security staff, cleaners/ housekeeping guys, repair workmen in our case, as building repairs are underway. They are staying in the building premises, provided for basics like food and allowed to stay on premises, cooking in makeshift kitchens, and staying in garages. Some of them migrants in their own city with family just a few kilometers away, unable to go home - distance no more a measure of physical distance but time. A few of them actual migrant workmen too - glued to a job dearly held on.A young contract watchman is one of them - by the looks, barely out of his teens - from UP. He is new, have been seeing him barely for a month or two before the lock down. A smiling, curious boy who would always be cheerful, asking questions, sometimes laughing on phone, occasionally having a chat - on nothing in particular, as I always chat with these guys. The only thing we can do is have a word with them, ask after their well being - costs nothing but does wonders for their psyche & morale. Also, it comes naturally to me, so it is genuine and there is no stress on either side.About 3 weeks back, when I went down for my daily sojourn of fresh air with my daughter Esha, in the garden adjoining our building, he, as usual, opened and held the gate for us. When I returned, he stopped me and said "Saab, mujhe gaon paise bhejne hain" (Sir, I have to send money home to my village). Before I could misunderstand his motive as asking me for money, he tapped the right pocket of his uniform and hastened to add "paise hain mere paas" (I have the money). That small physical gesture of a poor boy, indicating with a tap on his pocket his small fortune, which he wanted to part with, shook me up and also made me ashamed at the instant petty thought which had passed through my mind, that he was asking for dole. Turned out he had no account here, but his folks back home had an account in BOB. I almost told him that I will take you to the bank tomorrow but stopped short, remembering the restrictions and potential reactions at home. Explained to him the procedure and told him to speak to me after reaching the bank, and once there, to connect me to the staff, so that I could help him using my clout as a customer of the bank. He never called me from there the next day. In the evening, I asked him if had sent money and he gave me a bright smile and said that he had - a rare person happier after parting with money than before parting ! I was quite pleased that he was pleased. Several days passed after this incident, when one day he asked me if the lock down would get over on 3rd May, (the 2.0 version), I told him it will, without any conviction on my part, but looking at the desperation of his question. I didn't ask him but sensed that there was an urgent longing in that question, he perhaps wanted to go home. Over the days, our routine continued but gradually, ever so subtly, I noticed that his cheerfulness was giving way to some despondency, a bit of gloom. Once Esha overheard him saying something about dawai (medicines) on phone - making me wonder if someone back home was in any situation. Over the last few days, I have observed that he is quite serious, almost without a smile, with hunched shoulders and distinctly morose. He seems to have withered like a flower with passage of time. I am quite sure that it has something to do with back home, that longing, which I had sensed, is at the core of it. I have refrained from asking him, inspite of myself, as I don't want the burden of another (possibly) tragic tale, at least expressly known, though I can sense it. Today I asked him how he was and he nodded, i asked him why was he not smiling - and he gave a forced smile which I will never forget, a mirthless, full of pathos smile making me cut short the conversation and move on. And the images of those, even worse off, trudging with family hundreds of miles, old, young, hungry, helpless continue to haunt my helpless conscience, not in the least assuaged by the small monetary charity done here & there ! And making me seriously wonder at the accident of history which brought humanity - all equals as hunter gatherers for seven millennia, to this new equation, of the hunters and the hunted - in a few hundred years !hu


Rate this content
Log in