ABSENCE OF WARMTH

Monsoon had replenished the valley and the visage presented a soothing effect to every eye. Water droplets assembled from last night’s drizzle sparkled when the first ray of the morning sun kissed it giving the illusion of a diamond studded blanket enveloping the region.

Amid this lush foliage stood rows of concrete colourful houses either side of the road illustrating prosperity. Anyone who spared a moment to explore beyond the scenic beauty of the valley would observe a perfect synergy of progression and nature.   

The community had seen rapid progress in the last twenty years with literacy rate increasing among both the sexes, natives learning advanced techniques of farming; which was their main occupation, developing markets and better connectivity with the outside world for better transportation. The air smelled of freedom of thought, the availability of resources and the optimism for success.

Among this wave of progression stood an old palace akin a dinosaur. To call this ruin a palace would be an aberration. In the eye of the citizens the palace was a blemish and wished it’s disappears as it resembled bondage, restriction and the bygone world which hindered progress.  

The once might palace stood at a height overlooking the valley appeared naked, as time withered away its beautiful sandstone  external structure and left dust and a few shrubs. Each year the monsoon’s arrival was a blessing as it assisted wild bushes’ growth which helped the palace cover its barrenness.

Pratap Singh, palace’s present owner was the last heir of the royal family which once ruled over the valley and its neighbouring villages. Dharamveer Singh, the erstwhile king, his father had surrendered their sovereignty to the Indian government in exchange for the handsome Privy Purse and other privileges.

Pratap who had seen opulence and power during his grandfather’s rein found it difficult to let go and still behaved like a king; whom the jesters copied and enacted which the locals love and enjoyed.

The sun and the dark clouds were involved in a game of hide and seek which was contrasting to the perpetual gloomy inside of the palace; “I have always repaid on time,” Pratap said hunched over the phone. He was in the bedroom where the walls were adorned with pictures depicting royal heritage. Dilip’s bony feet trembled in anger as his found hints of plea in his tone. “Don’t let me down” he added.  The pain of indignation pulled him down as he slumped on the sofa.

“There were irregularities last time” the voice on the other side said.

Pratap used every ounce of self restrain to prevent his voice from breaking, “we enjoy such a long association, I knew you father.”

Cutting Pratap, “Raja sahab sorry, but I can’t help you” and disconnected the line.

He heard the click and dial tone came back again. These kinds of humiliations were getting more frequent. Not a single day passed where he hadn’t wished for old times to return as he believed that, men like animals should be put on leash otherwise they would go astray.

The cry of a child broke the silence, “I told you not to come here,” Ram Singh said pulling the child’s ear. The frightened child with mango juice dripping from his lips looked into Ram’s eyes with a half eaten mango clutched in his hand. Letting go of the ear, “don’t make any noises, Raja sahab is busy” the only surviving servant added; and smacked the child’s bottoms, “get lost.” The child ran towards the slum; which had propped up in the last twenty years.

Pratap dressed in a grey safari suit admired his reflection in the full length mirror; his towering frame of six feet four inches commanded respect. He supported the Rolex watch on his wrist; a gift from his dead father. Lowering his field of vision he looked at the polished Gucci shoes; a souvenir from one of his last foreign visits, adorning his feet.

During his youth Pratap wore whatever he wished as money was never an issue and he didn’t have to show as he was the Prince, would be King. Times had changed show-off and bragging were supreme so despite the financial difficulty he wore these items of luxury to preserve the image of the household.   

Giving his attire one last look he turned and looked at the royal turban mounted on a stand with reverence. Extending his hands Pratap gripped it and respectfully placed it on his head. And taking the walking cane from the stand he exited the room to face the world with his head held high.

Pratap observed Ram with the breakfast trolley, “just tea” he said. And sat comfortably on the dining table and waited as Ram placed the kettle, a pouch of sugar free and an empty cup in front of him on the dining table. The rain which had subsided commenced again; and with a grace fit for a king Pratap savoured the green tea overlooking the downpour in silence.

Pratap’s patience was running thin as he had waited for more than two hours for his scheduled meeting with the bank manager. “Sir is busy with some important people,” was the reason given by the peon. He looked about the faces of the people standing in the corridor, and then what does it make me?   

His eye caught a confident ten year old girl who kept staring at him. Pratap tried looking elsewhere but noticed that the girl hasn’t broken her stare. This was the brazen behaviour he despised where commoners forgot their place and crossed the lines drawn by society. Before he could reprimand the girl strode towards him and stopped a respectable distance away, “sir, can you vacate the bench for my grandmother” the girl gestured towards a frail looking lady standing at the far end of the corridor, “sir, she is very weak” the girl added. 

Pratap observed her dirty clothes and resisted the urge to give an appropriate retort for her bluntness, what to except from an uncultured child, and cordially left the bench. He stood a few feet away and watched the frail lady occupying the seat accompanied by the little girl.

Looking from his vantage point he detected admiration in people’s look for the brave child who had dethroned their king; and kept his eyes down casted with shame till his name was called by the peon.

Pratap’s attendance with manager lasted more than an hour was mostly futile as their discussion hopped from weather, to the state of roads and then to the variety of vegetables grown during monsoon but never once about the concerned topic, his loan application.   

After words in the ambassador driven by Ram, his man Friday, Pratap’s thoughts repeatedly went back to the look on the girl’s face; an enquiry originated, was it gratitude towards him? While he mulled over the idea another question popped up, were their gratitude in people’s eyes?  For once in a long time he was forced to think objectively.

A loud thunder broke his trance; monsoon the whisperer of life and the bringer of smile was the cause of nuisance for him as it helped the ripening of mango which brought unruly slum children to his palace and disturbed his peace of mind.

The sun had shone through after many days of rain and Pratap taking advantage of the break in weather was dressed for his customary morning walk. Putting on the flat cap he exited the main gate and walked past the river that separated the palace and the slum.

While taking the left turn that would take him among the calmness of nature away from the sound of progress; he observed a solitary figure standing at the river bank. It’s the girl from the bank. Pretending not to have observed her Pratap went ahead.

These meeting between the two were sporadic at first but gradually the occurrences increased; but the story line remained the same and never progressing further than a mere glance.

 After about two months from their first meeting Pratap who was on his way meet the banker noticed her once again. But this time he did something very unusual, he instructed Ram to park the ambassador near the wooden bridge.

“Go and bring her here” Pratap said and remained seated in the car.

Ram exited the car, crossed the bridge and talked to her gesturing in Pratap’s direction. After a few moments the girl walked with Ram towards the parked ambassador.

Pratap watched the girl cross the bridge and stop beside the car’s window. Ram stopped a few feet back out of their hearing range.

Pratap and the girl remained silent for a few seconds.

“You have something to say?” he said breaking the silence.

“Thank you.”

A curious look morphed his face

“Letting my sick grandmother have your seat”

“Is that all?”

“Yes”

“You waited all this while just to say thank you”

 “Yes”

“I never thought of you as the shy kind” he said as a smile came on his face, “and certainly not after the first impression you created at the bank” he added

“My grandmother barred me from talking to big people like you in the future”

“Big people?”

“You live in palace”

“Doesn’t she also tell you that stalking is bad?”

The girl kept quite; Pratap gestured Ram, who took his seat and put the car in ignition.

“What is your name?”

“Rajkumari”

“You have a good name” he said with a smile and the ambassador moved forward.

That conversation with Rajkumari was the tipping point as the perpetual sombre Pratap transformed into the happy Pratap; and looked up to life with optimism.

Pratap never felt this good before; he noticed respectful vibe from people in place of animosity. In the bliss surrounding Pratap a peculiar thing happened, Rajkumari failed to show up. The days of her absence stretched to a week which bothered him.

Anxiety gripped him which hindered his sleep. He went about days waiting for her glimpse and made excuses to be at the places where he had spotted her. Finally one night he decided to take action and spent the night and most of the next day pondering before he settled on a plan.  

Pratap woke up next morning a man possessed; and instructed Ram to arrange for dirty worn out clothes and a fake beard. And spent the rest of the day contemplating how he would proceed once he reached the slum.

By evening all the items were arranged and Pratap with Ram’s help set out to put the garb of a beggar; the result was so impressive that he could hardly recognise himself in the mirror. With the initial step done he instructed Ram to drop him five kilometres away from the palace at day break, and with that called off for the night.

Standing alone morphed as a beggar Pratap saw the first ray of light filter through the clouds, and he proceeded towards his destination. The daily morning stroll had strengthen his legs but walking in these worn out shoes was altogether a different thing; as his feet began to sore which intensified the pain with every step.

At the crack of dawn Pratap stood at the threshold of the slum and witnessed its inhabitants getting ready for the day ahead. Every face exhibiting their state of mind and it was a world in itself. The place projected an optimistic aura which was opposite to the poignant picture he had imagined.

On seeing him some idle sitting elderly men came forward and enquired about him; soon a crowd gathered where everyone had something good to say. His act was so convincing that none of the slum dwellers could recognise him; their Raja Sahab.

A small child came running with a steel glass filled with tea, another man offered him a piece of bread. The discussion progressed towards the pathetic living conditions of the slum dwellers. “Government should take steps to help us” a man said. The view was appreciated by the assembled public. “Why bother the government,” an elderly person said pointing towards the palace, “If he is our king, then he should do something for his people” the person added.  

Pratap heart skipped a beat when the elderly man’s words fell on his ears. He wanted to refute the claim by explaining his financial constraints but held his tongue.  

“Ram his servant haven’t been paid for months” a lady said

Pratap felt exposed as his problems were common knowledge.

“Don’t hassle him with our problems,” another lady said.

“He is our guest,” a woman from the back shouted.

The more he interacted the smaller he felt under their kindness, “can you point me towards Rajkumari’s home,” he said.

The smiling child who had served tea, “Uncle, I will take you to didi’s house” the child said holding his hand.

“Go with him, he plays with her all the time” a woman said.

The child still holding Pratap’s hand lead the way.

“Didi gives me sweets” the smiling child said.

“What’s your name?”

“Pinku”

“You like your didi?”

“Hmm”

Pratap looked at overflowing sewage and the pile of trash accompanied by buzzing bees, “who else live with your didi”

“Didi, grandmother and Sonu bhaiya” Pinku said, and led him into a small alley, “be careful with your head”

They entered a dark alley where sunlight couldn’t pass as the houses were congested. Pinku pointed to the small brick house at the far end, “That’s didi’s house” he said and ran rest of the way shouting, “Rajkumari didi, Rajkumari didi.”

“Pinku I am preparing dal, come inside” Rajkumari voice was heard from inside the one room house.

“Didi come out, an uncle wants to meet you”

By now Pratap had reached the threshold of the house.

“Bring him in” Rajkumari said.

Pinku took his hand, “come in.”

The elaborate and awkward approach of adjusting his tall figure in the cramped space brought a chuckle from Pinku.  

Pratap observed the one room house lit up by a single bulb and felt pity for her; and observed Rajkumari whose back was towards him; bent over the single burner stove stirring the ingredients in the steel pot.

A cough broke his thoughts as he followed the sound in the dimly light room and noticed a frail figure coiled on the cot.

“Didi” Pinku said, as he walked towards Rajkumari and placed his hand on her shoulder, “Look, look uncle is standing behind you” Pinku added.

Pratap had prepared himself for this moment nevertheless felt his palms sweating so he rubbed them along the crease of his torn out pant; and took a deep breath to quieten his nerves and waited for her to face him.

 Their eyes meet and the first thing he noticed was the knowing look of her eyes which revealed that he had been recognised.

Pratap prayed that she doesn’t reveal his identity, and was thankful when he heard her instructing Pinku to get some eatables. And he watched Pinku running out of the room  

The silence that followed felt like eternity, “what are you doing here?” she asked breaking the silence.

 “You did not come so I came enquiring” Pratap blurred out.

 Rajkumari kept looking in his eyes, “Dadi was ill so I tended to her and looked after the house.”

“Where is your brother? Pinku told me”

“Bhaiya has a job in city”

“Shouldn’t he be here to look after both of you”

“Bhaiya says he is working hard so that one day we all can stay together in the city.”

Pratap was about to ask further when Pinku came running with a polythene bag slighting by the side, “Didi, didi.”

Rajkumari took the bag from Pinku, “you place the mat over there” she said, as she handed him the mat.

Pratap watched as she instructed Pinku the place and the correct way of placing the mat. He felt puzzled when she looked at him enquiringly with her hands resting on her hips; but stood his ground unawares of what was expected of his. Then he watched Rajkumari laying the sweet laden plastic plate in front of the mat.

Rajkumari gestured for him to take his seat.

“No, no please” he said

She walked towards him, “please come and have it”

Pratap watched as both Pinku and Rajkumari exchanged mischievous glances, and saw them approaching. They took one hand each and tried to make him sit at the mat which made him laugh.     

Later that evening back at his palace Pratap sipped his tea which tasted acidic; was the tea that bad or was his inside filled with bile.

The cheerful sound filled the cloudless sky as Pratap overlooked the merry making children with the cheerful Pinku eating a chocolate sitting on his lap. Arriving at the decision to build a park for the slum children was the easy part; the difficulty was arranging the funds.

In one section of the ground working was progressing on the major portion of the children park; his new obsession. Only a small part was completed where children were playing; he had to wait for few months for his dream to materialising into reality.

Isn’t it said that, if your intentions are good even God comes forward to help; in Pratap’s case help came from an old creditor who put in a kind word and signed as the guarantor, which helped in the issuance of the loan.

Children smiling faces filled up Pratap’s heart with pride as he looked at the beaming Rajkumari; the girl who transformed an egocentric man into the most respected man of the valley. It’s just the beginning, he thought ruffling Pinku’s hair, who chuckled in response.