Strike out

There was a Bharat bandh today. A nationwide strike.

On the way back from the local mall yesterday, I decided to take a rickshaw. I was laden with bags and packets stuffed with supplies for the next day when the city of joy would come to a standstill. The mighty metropolis would be forced to kneel down for 24 hours in protest of a couple of policies nobody knew of. The important thing was the protest.

As I seated myself on the rickshaw, I felt a little queasy. The rickshaw wallah seemed a little mad. Cuckoo would be the word. As he pedalled tiringly through the narrow alleys, he scarcely seemed to hear me as I shouted my destination into his ear. He kept muttering to himself. I could only catch snatches of his muffled monologue. He seemed to be repeating the two words, "Ten rupees!"

I was instantly on my guard. The stipulated cost of the commute as fixed by their union was six rupees. He wasn't about to cheat me off the extra four rupees. I clutched with determination onto my two hundred rupees worth french fries and chips.

I tried to take my mind off the muttering menace and tried focusing instead on my itinerary the next day. The trade unions that had called the strike were left affiliated with strong ties with the incumbent government. They controlled most of the city unions, notable amongst them, the rickshaw wallah union. In fact the strike was partly for the benefit of the rickshaw wallahs, claimed the union. To resist the imperialist forces was in the best interest of the impoverished.

The approaching silhouette of my apartment on the horizon shook me out of my reverie. The rickshaw wallah suddenly turned towards me and muttered in his rustic Bengali,"dada,kalke ki shob kichui bondho?"..." Dada,will everything be closed tomorrow?" I replied in the affirmative,a bit surprised. Weren't these the people who actually backed the bandh?

He pedalled on for a few seconds. Then he turned back again." Dada, will schools be closed tomorrow?" There was a sense of desperation palpable in his voice.. I stammered out a "yes", all the while puzzled inside at his quaint questions.

We reached my destination. As I stepped down from the rickshaw, he looked at me and said meekly," Dada, kindly give me ten rupees. I have a girl studying at the local school; she is in class 5 and has just passed her exams. But the school says unless I pay the fees overdue,they're going to rusticate her. I have to arrange for three thousand rupees within the next week. Having asked everybody I knew for a loan, I now have resigned to asking customers I know well for small sums of money. You see, sir, I have been pedalling for the last thirteen years. But I don't know what will happen next. One whole day gone dada. Tomorrow I won't be able to pedal; no income dada, no food, no future. Wanted to meet a few people tomorrow for my girl. Now sir...."

Tears glistened on his sunken cheeks. I clutched at the tattered ten rupee note in my hand, the bag of fries on my other hand. I slowly reached out into my wallet and pulled out a hundred rupee note. The shrivelled face filled with surprise and disbelief. It slowly changed into ecstasy and hope.

I watched him pedal his way out of my neighbourhood. "Maybe dada, I will be able to educate my girl after all. God bless you..."

There was a Bharat bandh today.