It Just Bothers

Why money bothers? I tend to ask this question to myself and what I get in return is a blank face with a crooked smile and senile thought of hunger. If it isn’t that, then listen this…
While the January bone chilling cold, nabbing us in blankets still some people with bad “stomach-company” try to battle against the invincible cold. With presence of mist and dampness in air, this particular morning was making no difference to its counterparts. But still thanks to clear blue sky, sun was there and making his presence count. It’s not only the sun who’s making his presence count but also the adjacent neighbor’s daughter (no gory details, please). I was sitting right there making the ploys and plans to look as handsome as a “not-taken-bath-for-four-days” dude could be. And then there comes the Herculean goal made by god and being conceived by parents to keep an eye and especially a hawk one on guys like ‘us’, Chottu (her brother). And then there goes the better part of the morning. So now I was there sunken in my chair slurping tea and try to find something interesting in the newspaper, because outside the newspaper I had four people around me – adjacent neighbor’s son (the conceived goal), raddiwala (nothing just a raddiwala), stray dog (named ‘chottu’, after adjacent neighbor’s son) and the crow sited on the electric pole, and in close fight in being interesting so-called chottu(stray dog) comes first, crow and the raddiwala close second and rest were losers. Like the competitors like the newspaper, boring.
I was just going to leave for my brief workout session, comprising 15 minutes nap on bed and 15 minutes with brush in my mouth (believe me its as tiring as it sounds), and I heard a voice, “Paji” (big brother) and there goes my workout plans ‘clouded-figure’, dissolved in the mist. I turned and saw a stereotype of raddiwala, and yes he was the same one who came third in being interesting, early. And once we both figured out each others silhouette in the cold morning, he pulled up his socks and started to rain questions about having any old newspapers, old plastic things and other things which might make him interesting to strike a comprehensive M&A type of deal. But as usual I know what to say, because the “negotiator of the house” is out of town, precisely, mother is not home. So I tell him to come later. And then I started to leave and he called me again. This time what I noticed first is not his silhouette but a type of hesitation to ask something. I tried to decipher things from his looks and the first guess which came to my mind was, glass of water but it seems not. First, due to cold and second I had seen him early in conversation drinking water from a bottle. So the guess was in vain.
When I was unable to figure out anything fruitful I asked him about calling back. It seems it took ages to the words I said to reach his eardrums. And even more to him to understand them.
And then slowly he whispered something.
“What?” I didn’t get a word.
He came closer towards me and said again, “koi puranae boot hai, paji” (have u any old shoes, big brother)
First I looked at him sternly and then when I started to turn back, “mein paise dey key lawanga, free nahi” (I will give money for it not free)
And then I got understood about the whole dilemma of his. I looked back to him and politely tell him that I didn’t have any old shoes. He stares to me with his huge black eyes and it seems he was adjudging me, right at that moment. And I don’t know what make him but he smiled towards me, and left with his cycle full of load of raddi.
I can see him hollering for raddi and I can also see his feet in flip-flop before getting mixed in white fog. He was gone but I remained there for some time and thought about him. And then it comes to me, that why money bothers? Because for some it’s a question of living but for few others it’s a question of pride.