Irrespective of Repercussions..

I should probably get back home thought Bandu. I hope Geeta is back from her work. He smiled when he thought about Geeta. She was special to him. And why wouldn’t she be! After all they had dinner together; she would be part of tête-à-tête with him which would continue late night. Every Sunday Bandu would get her sweets which they ate at night with caveat that none would notice them. Today, it was Geeta’s favorite: gulab jamun.

The other part of his mind was unhappy. Today was not his day as he was not able to fetch himself considerable amount of money. He strolled on the footpath of Marine drive with nothing in his hand except 10 rupee note. He elevated his hand bringing the palm parallel to his face only to feel bad that he missed his index finger, which was brutally ripped seven years ago by Killer Bhaiyya. The fact that many others like him in the wretched house were also subjected to some kind of physical torment resulting in loss of body parts pacified his pain. Bandu, over the years had been trained well and was exceptionally adept in conning people: by robbing or begging.

Engulfing the sunlight reflected from the Arabian Sea, he closed his eyes only to remain oblivious to umpteen thoughts perturbing his mind. He took a long breath as if he longed desperately to have it. The cool breeze flowing in late afternoon gave him mental satisfaction. His mind slowly transited into the chambers of his childhood. All he could reminiscent was a place with men, women and children without enough clothes to cover themselves, houses surrounded by barren farm-lands. He could distinctly remember his ailing mother and his father striving hard to gather money for buying food, clothes and for his mother’s treatment.

 The next day he saw his father taking money from a stranger and in return asking Bandu to go with this strange looking man having sturdy built. Bandu was reluctant but was eventually picked up with one hand and was carried away. Something pricked him after few minutes of relentless shedding of tears pushing his eyes to shut. The next thing he saw on waking up was the blood stains on his left hand and thick dark fresh scar on his face. Killer Bhaiyya slapped him while teaching him to rob and beg. He was also taught to pick-pocket after which he was given food to eat.

He was 13 years old- last heard from Killer Bhaiyya. Geeta was living with him since 3 years and he had got a reason to smile. Today was Sunday; the day when Killer Bhaiyya and his cohorts went out to drink and came back home late. Since he managed to get only 10 Rupees and he had to buy gulab jamun for Geeta, it meant tomorrow when Killer Bhaiyya would ask him to return his earnings he would left with none. My heart is saying “Yes” but my head is saying “No”. If I don’t give him money he will slash another finger of mine. Rules in the house have become stricter since Ratan ran away with all the money he earned. I can do anything to see smile on Geeta’s face. Today is Sunday and I cannot miss spending time with Geeta eating sweet.   

   

He was yet to decide whom should he listen to. Opening his eyes, he turned his back and crossed the road, walked some distance and in matter of few minutes, he was surprised to see himself buying two gulab jamuns. It was as if he was pulled by some invisible force regardless of the repercussions he was going to face. 

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda