True Story : Reflections of Truth

It was a bright day, which was covered under a blanket of cool breeze. We were busy in selling our foodstuffs. Gulab-Jamun, Vada-Pao and Shahi Toast, which we made ourselves with the assistance of mess workers, were making quite a good selling. Well, I am talking about the fete organized by the Officer Trainnes (OTs) during our training. Our group comprised of 16 OTs of which about  only 10 of us were working. Others were intelligent enough to understand the uselessness of group work, hard-work and futile toiling in the sun and they acted as 'free-riders'. So they were out in the field, busy in eating and enjoying. This was followed by departure to their respective rooms, to have sound afternoon sleep, while we brainless creatures were carrying out their burden on our shoulders.

There were the above three food items and one game at our stall. After selling for about two hours, we were tired and got replaced by another team from amongst ourselves. Finally we had time to roam around and see what actually was happening around, what items other stalls were selling, and where we stood in comparison. During the strolling, I realised that it was really a very colorful day with all sorts of food items and games being displayed at the stalls. There was a healthy crowd as the customers included not just fellow OTs, but also the faculty members, staff members, their families, school children and local people. After roaming around, eating and enjoying for about an hour, I came back to stall to handle the charge.

Still we were doing quite good in selling the food items. I then got busy in management of the stuff around the stall. Suddenly, there came a child, a small kid of around 7-8 years old. He visibly belonged to a poor family and was attracted to the fete venue by its unusually large, cacophonous crowd, mixed with deafening sounds of loud-speakers. He knew that the time of year had come. The time which comes every year around same time, same place and with same kind of things.

"Ye...kitne ka hai, how much is its cost?", he asked hesitatingly, with his index finger pointing towards Gulab-Jamun.
I was still looking at his face. A face, which was covered by hesitation and expectation. A face, which was happy and sad at the same time.....
"Rs. 30 a plate", the voice of my friend, who was selling them, disrupted my thoughts.
The boy felt like a shock. His little dirty finger, was taken aback by a natural reflex action. After some time he picked the courage and pointed his finger towards Shahi Toast,
"Ye... Kitnaa...? How much?"
"Rs. 10", my lady OT friend correctly judged the situation and brought down the price steeply to one - third of its original value.
The boy again looked worried. The creases on his forehead became so visible. He looked down at his folded palm. A crumbled five rupee coupon was all that he had.

I was drowning in the waves of that dramatic scene. We put the prices so high, because we wanted to earn maximum revenue, for which there was a prize by the Academy. It was not our fault. Everybody was doing same thing- maximizing their revenue and exploiting the customers. Actually this is what we do in our real life out there. And those who suffer are these poor kids!! The Group-D employees were also having difficulty in purchasing food items like halwa, chhole-bhature, parantha, juice, ice-creams etc. But since they were grown up, their emotions couldn't betray their facial expressions, or at least we didn't bother to heed them. But now, there was a child in front of us.

The inability of the poor kid, to purchase even one food item was a hard slap on our face. And the echo of that slap had made us deaf and dumb. I looked at my friend, and without any words being uttered, a sort of communication was done and we gave a plate of Gulab-Jamun to him.
"Keep it", was the maximum she could say.

He took the plate, with his eyes staring the content as if he was seeing them for the first time in his small life. Then he looked at her, then at me and again looked at the plate. Finally he turned back, and started walking away from us. Three of his friends were standing there at some distance. Their eyes were filled with reluctance and silent fear, a fear that was created because of constant ignorance, negligence and abusing by the 'developed' society. We signaled them to come and gave all of them whatever foodstuffs they pointed at. Even without uttering a single word to us, they gave us valuable lessons. We couldn't speak anything after they were gone and a dull calmness descended on the stall. It was only by the request of next wave of customers, that we were waken to our senses. But the image of those children were still hanging on to our eyelids. I was feeling little uncomfortable as well as was tired a bit, so I asked my friends to take control of the stall and i excused myself. I started walking towards the exit. When I was near the exit gate, a broken and meek voice stopped my gait.
"Bhaiya... wo dila dijiye..."
I turned to my left and found a small boy standing, with his finger pointing towards an ice-cream cone at the next stall. One more boy and a girl were also standing close to him. I thought that he was the same boy I met earlier. But when I looked at him intently, I realized that he was not that boy. It is so true that poverty doesn't discriminate among those who live under its shade. They were all so similar,  their beautiful eyes were scarred because of sleep deprived nights. Their soft skin was buried under the layers of dust. Their torn cloths greased with dirt. And many other similarities were there.....

I went close to them. They looked at me. Their eyes were filled with something. Was it suspicion, fear or expectation? Or was it something else which I was unable to grab? Suddenly I remembered that I had 300 rupee worth coupons left with me, out of the total 500 rupee coupons, which were given to every OT. I thought of putting them in the our group's earnings so as to help us get the maximum revenue award. But instinctively, my hand went to pocket and  I drew all  the coupons out. I was still looking at the face of those children. Without counting, I started distributing them among those three kids. When I was almost done, two more similar boys came running to me. I was surprised and could handle only one or two of the left coupons to those two boys. They looked at their coupons and then at what others had got. Then they looked up at me. Their eyes were asking me something.  I was again unable to decipher them. Their look made me hate myself even more. I slowly stepped back, turned around and walked away. I was walking out of the exit gate. The music from loudspeakers was still audible.

----Rajesh Meena Bujeta