Dinakar was a 42
year old post-man. He lived in a small room which was almost inconspicuously
hidden in the corner of the street between two tall buildings somewhere in the
maze of Bombay. He had no friends. He had no family. Parents died when he was
young. He lived off the meager salary he earned. He need not save for anything
as he had not married and had no off-springs. He could not marry because his
speech faculty was not fully developed to get himself married.
Each day he woke up
exactly at 6’o clock. He got water for himself. There was no bathroom actually.
He took bath in the open backyard (junkyard rather). He used the common
dormitory toilet of the adjacent building. Nobody even noticed him. He used it
from time immemorial and therefore it was as if he had a preemptive right on
it. He was ready by 7:30. He cooked his breakfast. Bread and Omlet was his
everyday breakfast. He was lean and hunched. He left for his office at 8:22 and
reach the local station by 8:33. His train was at 8:37. He caught is local
train and reached the destination station at 9:04 or 9:05. He then took a bus
for his office. He reached his office by 9:25 everyday. He then did his regular
work of picking up all the mails from all departments of the office and put it
in the post box. His work was to post letters. So if anybody had a letter to be
posted, they would ring the operator and ask for dianakar. He would get up and
go immediately and post the letter. Several times in a day he would go to the
post office. Sometimes he would return and leave immediately. He had his lunch
in the temple nearby. They gave rice and sambar everyday. He would be in the
office until the last officer left, and follow the same routine to get back
home. He always reached home between 8:20 and 8:25. After reaching home he
cooked his dinner. It was roti curry for 6 days. On Sundays he cooked fish
curry. On Sundays he did cleaning, washing and ironing. Remaining time on
Sunday he brooded about the sleep problem.
He lived on for
another 18 years. One day when he slept he dint wake up. He was sixty. He did
not come to office. The operator said ‘ Dinakar bhau elat nahi” (Dinakar
brother has not come today). Everybody wondered how many leaves does this old
fellow takes. Actually he had not taken leave for a single day in 40 years.
When he did not come third day, the work was incomplete. As nobody knew where
he lived, they hired another twenty year old boy who had just came to Mumbai to
make a living. He was searching for a room. He ended up in the lil street and
knocked on the door where the dinakar lived. He smelled the stench of the
rotting dead body and informed neighbours. They disregarded it by saying that
nobody stayed there. But when they smelled it for themselves they believed. The
Municipality workers did the remaining job. The body of Dinakar was thrown into
a near by river that joined into the sea. The young boy started staying in
Dinakar’s house and he lived a similar lifestyle as Dinakar did.
The firm where he
worked, officials still called the operator and asked for Dinakar. He became
Dinakar as nobody else observed that Dianakar was replaced by somebody else. In
fact nobody ever saw Dinakar closely. So Prabhakar became Dinakar. Prabhakar
bought his grocery from the same place. He bathe at the same place and used the
same toilet. Nobody missed Dinakar. Nobody shed a tear in his rememberance. He
was gone like he had come. There were no memories.
Nice One!!
ReplyDelete