Can someone help?

Connaught Place, New Delhi.

It was a typical Delhi summer. Hot, dry and the one that makes you perspire like a fat pig in a farm far west of Arizona. You could tell from the crowd in the inner circle of CP that it was perhaps a weekend or a Friday eve. People dressed smartly in those overpriced branded clothes moving around mostly in couples to buy more and more of it. But also among them, were small children, barely covered and desperate to get enough so that they could break a bread with their fraternity that night. Such contrast, and people complain that this world is getting dull by the day.

At one of the cross roads among the blocks, stood a young man, perhaps in his late twenties. Let’s just call him as Mr. A. Fair complexion, somewhat curly hair, a tad above the average height and cleanly shaved. He was dressed in semi-formals and looked serious enough to qualify as a working professional. That’s just a guess I venture as I see him often. Once or twice, he did come by my book-stall. I can tell he is into reading as he just dissolves into my collection of books.

On that day, as he stood just next to my stall, a man probably in his forties approached him. That would be Mr. B in our scheme of things. B claimed that he worked in Housekeeping for a firm based in Gurgaon, had come there for some work, lost his metro card and of course had no cash to go back. Where have we heard such a story before? Duh, perhaps at every station and bus stop. But then I had not seen B around. Perhaps he was new to the con business. Or perhaps he was telling the truth. The faces always change once in a while, the business goes as usual.

Now I thought, Mr. A would dismiss his plea like most of the people outright or perhaps give him something out of pity. But to my surprise, he told B, “I totally trust what you say. You needn’t sell your dilemma any more. I know you need help and I surely would. But perhaps you don’t know, there are some tricksters who fool people presenting themselves in such situations. They are doing a bad thing for people like you who seriously need help. But I am not going that route. Here you go, buy the tickets”. Now B ran towards the ticket counter after thanking A. Perhaps he was not bluffing. Who can tell. But I couldn’t resist even though I had nothing against B. I told A, “You should not believe such people Sir, they feed on other’s morality”. He smiled and disappeared into the crowd.

Three months later.

The winter is perhaps already gone. The heat is slowly taking over. Seasons change, people do, small timers like me stay put. As I sat in my 20 year old book stall once again, I wondered if the reading populace has gone down. Or it’s just the evil God Kindle that is taking away business from people like me.  So lost in the thought was I that didn’t even notice that a customer was sitting across. Trying hard to pick a read. He had this beard like a pathan but perhaps was not one. Wait, have I seen these eyes before? He looked familiar but so does every other person to me. Let’s call him Mr. C. Sitting here among the sea of faces I get that feeling every now and then.

And then came B again. Over all these months I had seen him often. The same story, different audience and different applause every time. I could make out that he was very poor and desperate like million others in this country and this is the way he made his living. He could have a couple of children back home waiting to be fed. I guess he was wrong in what he did but I stopped warning people. Let him earn the bread for his family. Or a little booze for himself. Whatever that it. This is a jungle anyway and all means of survival are perhaps justified.

When he told his narrative again, C smiled. And that wasn’t s normal smile. That had something different about it. As if he knew everything about the man. But it couldn’t be. I had never seen C around here before. C told him, “I totally trust what you say. You needn’t sell your dilemma any more. I know you need help and I surely would. But perhaps you don’t know, there are some tricksters who fool people presenting themselves in such situations. They are doing a bad thing for people like you who seriously need help. Here you go, buy the tickets”. This time B did not run. He felt he has heard these words before, from a different man perhaps. He was shaking. His eyes getting red and all watery. He then remembered something. The same dialogue with the same man. They have had the same conversation before. It was too much for B to take, he ran away, apologetically.

C was still smiling and noticing my involvement moved towards me and said, “You had warned me that day, remember? But I perhaps knew already. And you know what, whatever be the case, one thing we would agree upon is that he needs some help. Perhaps next time we can talk him out of this con job”. And once again, he was lost, in the books. I was too, in what he said.