October 15, 2019

I wake up with about thirty minutes to four in the morning. I go to the kitchen and prepare breakfast for all. Mother and her grandchildren are still asleep. I put a bowl of milk to heat for tea. I don't feel like having anything to eat. Only one thought is on my mind.... I have to go to meet a police officer today.

I walk over to the cow shed to feed Jeera, our cow. She is still asleep alongside Veera, her calf. I pour feed into her bowl and mix it with water so that Veera can also have it.

I return to the house and sit in one of the two chairs we have. I wonder how my meeting with the police officer will turn out to be. They have taken my passbook. That would tell them that there is about five hundred Rupees in my bank account. I wonder how much they would demand from it. Parvati, the daughter of this house, had told me just two days ago that she needed at least one new notebook for school. I should've just withdrawn money from the bank yesterday. God knows if any of it is going to be left after today.

"Rishi, the food you kept on the stove has overcooked. And the milk over-boiled and spilled over." Mother tells me.

"I am sorry, I did not realize mother." I don't look at her.

"Are you worried about..." today's meeting?

"No mother." I lie.

"I will also come with you Rishi." She touches my shoulder.

"No mother, I will manage."

A few minutes before eight I prepare to leave.

"Have some breakfast dear." Mother tells me.

"I will once I return mother." I don't feel like eating anything.

"Please have dear."

"I don't feel like!"

"Fine. If you don't then me, Parvati and Prasanadev also won't."

I give in. "Alright." I know that she won't let her grandchildren starve, but she herself may not eat anything.

After having two dosas I prepare to leave.

"Mother please tell Parvati that I'll buy the notebook tomorrow."

"Don't you worry about that dear, I have an old one with plenty of blank pages. Here, have two more dear!" Mother says.

"Mother first of all, I don't feel like eating anything. If I have anymore I will vomit!"

"Just one more dear!"

"No!" I simply walk out.

It is almost nine thirty when I reach the place. There are two police jeeps parked at the compound wall and a police SUV, like the one I saw yesterday, at the door of the building. There are a few people crowding at the door. As I approach I ask an elderly man whether the officer has arrived.

"He is in there alright, but he says that he won't be seeing anyone today. He took charge yesterday and I had met with him also. He had asked me to come today. But when I come I'm told that he will not be seeing anyone today." He replies.

"Is that so?" My eyes gleam. I hope this is valid reason for me to bunk today's meeting.

"Hey, what is your name?" The policeman at the door asks me.

"Reeshikesh sir." I reply.

"Come on in. Sir will see you."

When I pass through the doorframe, I see a man in his early or mid twenties, dressed in khaki sitting behind a glass topped desk. He is sitting at an angle talking on the phone and has not noticed my presence yet. I make out the silver outline of the letters I.P.S. at the end of his shoulder flap. He sees me and stands up. I join hands in respect and he reciprocates.

"Be seated." He gestures towards the chair in front of him.

"Thank you sir, but it's okay.... I'll remain standing." I return.

"So you want to decline the hospitality I offer you? That is definitely an insult!"

"No sir! I didn't mean...."

"Do you want to insult me?"

"No sir!"

"Then sit down."

I seat myself on the first of the three chairs.

"Your name is...?"

"Reeshikesh sir!" I say instantly.

"I know." He is looking into a small rectangular book. I realize it is my passbook. He looks up again "You are nineteen?"

"Yes sir."

"How much money is there in your bank account?"

"I don't know sir."

"You don't know the money in your own account?"

I fall silent. I am afraid that if I tell him there's five hundred he'll want almost all of it.

"We took the liberty of updating your passbook. As of yesterday there was five hundred and forty two Rupees and forty six Paise."

My brows knit. I don't like the way he described the money in past tense with 'was'. Is it not there anymore?

"I did make a transaction, I hope you don't mind?"

My heart sinks. That was the money for Parvati's notebook. And I'm sure Prasanadev also needed one even though he didn't ask for it.

"Any problem?" He is looking at me with piercing eyes.

"Not at all sir."

"How much do you sell one cup of tea for?"

"Ten rupees, sir."

"How many cups of tea do you sell in one day?"

"That I am not sure sir."

"At the end of one day, how much money comes into your wallet?"

"That depends on how much I sell sir."

"Give me a range."

"Well if it is a good day I might get close to seven hundred Rupees at the end of the day sir." I pause for breath "But if it is a bad day, I might only get four hundred."

"If you get seven hundred Rupees, how much is your profit?"

"If I get seven hundred, I will get over three hundred."

"How come the profit margin is so low?"

"Sir I use only Jeera's milk." He raises his brow and I realize that he is unaware about Jeera. "Forgive me sir, Jeera is my cow."

"And that drops your profit margin, doesn't it?"

I nod.

"Anyway, you get three hundred Rupees a day. That's not bad..." His face is expressionless. I can't decipher what he is feeling. "... so how come there's only five hundred in your bank account?"

"That is my life savings sir." I hope he takes pity and leaves me with enough to buy a notebook. "I have only managed to save that much over the years. There are lots of household expenses and also many in need of help."

"So a tea seller like you goes out of his way to help others while he can't provide for his own family?"

"It is true sir." Does he not believe me?

"I know it is true. We enquired yesterday. People said that you'd help the needy without a second thought.... No wonder your bank balance is pathetic!"

I don't respond. Is he angry that he won't get much from me?

"In your house..." He raises his wrist with only his thumb and index extended "... how many?"

"Five members, sir." I realize I didn't include myself "Sorry sir, including me six."

"Who all?"

"Me, my mother, two children, our cow and her calf."

"What about your wife?"

"No sir, I haven't married. You see my sister was married very young. The two children, Parvati and Prasanadev, are hers. Two years back she passed away. Her husband remarried last year and left them both with us."

"How did she, if you don't mind me asking?" A small glint of concern shows in his eyes.

"We don't really know. She fell ill. Her husband had taken her to a doctor once. But later on she herself didn't want to go to the doctor. And then she died."

"Only once?" His brows arch.

"Her husband is a fruit seller; he can't take her to the doctor all the time, sir. He cannot be blamed for that. We didn't know that she was so sick. Had we known, we would have brought her home and taken care of her."

"So now you have to feed a family of four?"

"Of five sir." I realize I have erred again "Six, including me."

"You include your cattle also?"

"Yes sir. I take care of Jeera and Veera just like I would of a sister and her child."

He gives an exaggerated smile. He thinks I'm just making it up like most people who profess to worship the cow like the symbolic cow mother but in reality only use them for the monetary gain. But I am not like that.

"It is true sir! Please believe me. Ever since they have arrived, I have always made sure that Parvati and Prasanadev never have to sleep hungry. I mean I do sleep hungry sometimes, but I would never let my children have to suffer that. Just like them I also make sure Jeera and Veera don't. While Parvati and Prasanadev may ask for food when they feel hungry.... Jeera and Veera are unable to. So as their caretaker it is my duty to make sure that they are well fed, that it is."

He places a paperweight over my passbook before getting up. I instantly stand up. He turns without a word and retreats into an inner room whose door is covered with a curtain.

I remain standing. I look at the glass topped desk on which my passbook rests. Besides my passbook, there is a book with Abdul Kalam Sir's picture as well as two paper cups, much like the ones I sell tea in. My eyes fall on the passbook that looks back at me. A thought comes to mind to take it and make a run for it. But I suppress this feeling. I know I'll be caught before I get far. I have an urge to just pick it, as if my mere touch would reinstate possession over what was once fully mine. But then I banish all these thoughts from mind: I have lived an honest and honourable life so far and I do not want these circumstances to get the better of me.

A constable enters and asks what my business here is.

"Sir didn't say anything. He just went to that room." I look at the curtained door. "I do not know if I should wait or not."

The man goes to the door and seeks permission to enter. He might have been declined that for I hear him talk in a low tone to the person on the other side before coming back.

"Please have a seat." He tells me.

"That is alright, I'll remain standing sir." I politely put forth.

"It's sir's wish, please just do as I say boy!"

I comply and resume my earlier seat.

"Now, would you like to have something to drink?"

I look at him wide eyed. I swear this must be a trick.

"Tell me fast, I've got work to do." He seems annoyed at my silence.

"No sir. I'm alright. Thank you."

"Tell me boy, tea, coffee what would you like?" He seems unusually insistent.

"He's a young boy, get him some fruit juice." The officer's voice from the other room is loud enough to be deciphered by the constable for he acknowledges the order with a "Sir!"

He then looks at me "What kind of juice do you like boy? Apple, mango, grapes..."

Again, I stare wide eyed.

It takes more than thirty minutes for the officer to return from the room and when he does he has got a pair of sunglasses on. I jump up from my seat but he gestures for me to remain seated. I notice an orange envelope in his hand. The first thing he notices must be the glass of mango juice for he asks

"Aren't you going to drink it?"

"Sir...." I don't know if declining would seem impolite.

"You know, when I offer you something and you decline it.... it is an insult to me."

I take the glass and force myself to take one sip. It is probably the rush of the situation because I can hardly taste. I can't drink anymore.

"So do you know the reason for this meeting?" His expression is totally unreadable with the glasses on but his voice seems different.

"No sir."

"Yesterday there was an incident near Ramanathapuram Railway Station..."

I carefully place the glass back on the table.

"... around four thirty I believe. Can you tell me what happened?"

I am silent.

"Silent? Very well then.... you know I told you that I made a transaction?" He picks up my passbook and raises it signaling that the transaction was made in my bank account "I hope you will forgive me for it." He looks down and smiles "I know that you won't like it. Nay, you would never allow me to if it were done in front of you.... so I had to do it with you unaware. I would like to say that I'm sorry for that. I hope you would forgive me and forget what I did." He puts the passbook into the envelope, which he in turn places on the table.

I can't help the expression of rage that forms on my face. That money was for my children and Jeera! I flinch when I realize he has noted my change of expression.

He just stares at me through the dark sunglasses that hide his eyes. He hits a desk bell and a few seconds later I hear footsteps behind me.

"Sir!" Two voices say from behind.

I turn my neck and make out their identities. It's the same cops who stopped me yesterday. I get up from my seat but the officer asks me to be seated.

"Come here." He gestures for them to come to the side of the table adjacent to us.

As the men approach I get a sense of impending danger. I shrink lower in my seat, neck and shoulder ready to roll and mitigate the impact of an oncoming blow.

"Do you recognize these men?" The officer asks.

The two of them are standing at the table side adjacent to me and look at me.

"Yes." I reply, not making eye contact with either of them.

"The two of you got something to say?" He turns his sunglasses towards the constables.

"We are sorry brother." The guy who thrashed my cycle says. "What we did was wrong and I hope you will forgive us for it. We shall never repeat it in future."

I am at a loss for words.

"Well words won't undo the damage you did. The boy earns seven hundred Rupees a day and thanks to you his earnings yesterday and today have been nothing. What do you do about that?" The dark sunglasses are now facing the constable who apologized to me. Unknown to him I take the opportunity to read the white letters against the black background on his chest. R.L.D. Tamilrasan.

"I will make good for that sir." The guy who was aggressive yesterday and kicked my cycle fishes out his wallet.

I am too slow to react for he takes out two Five Hundred Rupee notes and a few Hundreds. He counts and holds it out to me.

"Here brother, this will cover your earnings for yesterday and today."

"No sir." I join my hands "Let it be."

"You know when I offer something to you and you decline it...." The officer looks at me.

"Please take it brother." The constable makes a downward movement of the notes before lifting it back up.

I take it, although unsure.

"You guys also didn't pay for the tea you had, did you?" The officer looks at them.

"We are sorry for that too brother." The two constables say in unison.

"One cup is ten Rupees." The officer tells them.

The men hand me a Ten Rupee note each. I take it without protest.

"That will be all. Dismissed." The officer says.

The men reply with "Sir!" and salute him before exiting the room.

So this is the power of a Deputy Superintendent of Police.

"Well, we are making good the loss you suffered on our account." He sounds insincere as he picks up the envelope. "I hope you won't complain against us and instead accept the compensation we offer."

I know that he doesn't mean a word he is saying. No policeman would ever pay a civilian, let alone a poor tea seller like me, for even the middle class people do not complain against police misdemeanor. Then why?

"I take it that you will allow us to make good the loss you've suffered?"

I stare.

"Or would you reject all this and go complain?" He cocks his head to one side.

"I would not sir." I reply. Complain.... to whom even?

"Very well, please finish your juice before leaving." He rises and leaves, taking the envelope with him.

I thought he would return the passbook. I drink from the glass. The juice regains some of its lost taste and I can feel sweetness. But I cannot drink it to the full. I keep a half empty glass on the table as I head out.

The crowd I had seen at the door earlier has disappeared. As I go out I hear someone call out.

"Hello!"

I look to my side and see the Deputy Superintendent at the police SUV. He gestures for me to come towards him.

I go to the SUV and he says "Get in."

I have only been in three motor vehicles till today: public bus, auto rickshaw and a tempo that used to be my school van. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought that I would ever sit in the passenger side of a police SUV.

"You had breakfast?" He asks me.

"Yes sir." I look at him. He still has his glasses on but from the side angle I can make out his eyes.

"What?"

"Dosa, sir."

"How many?"

"Two sir."

"Just two?"

"Yes sir."

"When?"

"Around eight."

"Now the time is?" He holds his hand out.

It takes me a moment to realize he wants me to read the time off his watch. He won't take his eyes off the road.

"It is twelve forty five sir." I inform.

"Having had just two dosas you must be starving now."

"Not really sir."

He pulls over at the side of a footpath near a junction. "Come let's have something to eat." The orange envelope is lying on the dashboard. He takes it with him. Looks like he doesn't trust me around it.

He walks halfway into an expensive vegetarian restaurant, the kind of place privileged people dine from, and turns.

"What are you waiting for, an invitation?"

I realize that he wants me to follow. I go in with him.

The Deputy Superintendent had left after ordering for me. I'm not dressed like a person worthy of eating at a place like this. That is the first thought in my head as I become increasingly aware of other people looking at me. The vegetarian meals here is more tasty than the ones I have had from cheap food stalls, but my over consciousness dulls an otherwise pleasant experience. And after finishing I head towards the cash counter. I am told that the bill is already paid.

I walk out of the hotel and see the officer loading a cylindrical steel container into the back of the SUV. Upon seeing me he waves. I get into the passenger side and he asks

"How was lunch?"

"It's the best I've had so far sir."

As he drives I notice the familiar roads. The SUV is driving towards my home!

"Sir, are we going to my house?" I look at him.

"Not really. We are going to my house." His eyes are constantly on the road.

He stops right in front of my house.

"I'm expecting someone. We wait for him." He takes his sunglasses off.

I nod.

"By the way, where did you get that ring?" He asks looking at my palm.

"It was given to me by Saleem Sir." I realize I haven't explained fully "Saleem Sir, the Honourable Grandson."

"APJMJ Sheik Saleem, grand nephew of Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam – the Father of Missile Technology and former President of India. I know."

He draws a breath and adds

"I have read all books of Dr. Abdul Kalam. It continues to inspire generations worldwide till this day. It is the best guide in life I have found. Dr. Kalam was an exemplary citizen who had nothing but love for all."

I add a layman's point "Not a shred of darkness was in Kalam Sir's heart."

"You know, Dr. Kalam is perhaps the only Indian to talk about helping the poor and actually mean it. Dr. Kalam, during his first Presidential year in 2002 had set a target for the government: 'By 2020 India should be an economically developed and advanced country.' Dr. Kalam had two targets. First, by reaching the status of Economically developed he wanted to eliminate poverty from our country. 'No citizen should fall below the poverty line.' Second, he had stated that 'No one should sleep on a platform – everyone must have a house to rest in.'"

"You know a lot sir." I am amazed at the flurry of information delivered. So this is what conversation with a civil services officer is like.

We wait for around thirty minutes and then I make out a person pushing a cycle in the distance.

"There he is!" The Deputy Superintendent pulls on a maroon hoodie over his khaki. He gets out and motions to the man, who in turn pushes the bicycle even faster.

There is a brief exchange of words and the man walks away.

"Don't just sit there, help me with this!" He calls out.

I rush out and hold the cycle and I see him go to the SUV. I look at the cycle. There's a bell near the right handle grip which is protected with a transparent covering. It's a brand new bicycle.

"Here," he places the steel container on the back seat of the bicycle "I would say that completes the restoration." It is a canister with a spigot attached. The canister is bigger than the one I used to carry around.

I blink.

"Restoration of the loss you suffered yesterday?"

I gasp. Is he giving me this brand new cycle? "No sir, I cannot accept it."

"When I offer you something and you decline...." He begins.

"I am not insulting you sir, please forgive me but I just cannot accept such an expensive gift."

He smiles "Well it's not a gift. It is only us making good the loss we have caused you. This is only restoration. Now please accept it."

"I am sorry sir but...."

"So you will go and complain about it?" He cocks his head.

"No sir."

"Well as a righteous person you must do either of the two. You should either accept this restoration arrangement or you must go ahead and complain. You can't decline both." He holds his hands up.

I don't know what to say. I am a righteous person, but I cannot accept such an expensive gift which I did not earn.

"You mind making some tea for me?"

"It would be my honour sir." I beam.

The Deputy Superintendent sits in the same chair I had sat on in the morning while tea brews. Once it's ready, I pour it out into a small steel glass and serve it to him.

"I apologize. There aren't any cups.... we only have these steel glasses."

"The only problem here is that I don't have your company for tea. Please pour yourself a glass too."

I pour myself a glass and enter. He motions for me to sit on the other chair. We both have our tea in relative silence. After finishing he is about to leave when I ask

"Sir, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." He remains seated.

"How come a person as great as you is having tea with someone like me?"

"You know," he looks up "I wonder the same thing about you."

It takes a moment to fully digest what he says and by that time he is at the door. He turns and pulls the hood over his head.

"I believe the restoration is over. Now you cannot bring any further claims against me or the department." His voice sounds insincere, just like before. "I'll take your leave now."

The sun rays cast a shadow on his features but I can make out the outline of a guy wearing a maroon hoodie, with the hood pulled over his head, standing at the doorframe. And the image seems very familiar, but I am unable to put a finger on it.

Before I know it, he is getting into the driver's side of the SUV.

I approach him and ask "Who are you sir?"

He adorns his sunglasses "Please don't call me sir the next time we meet." He waves and takes off.

I walk over to the bicycle. I push it over towards the house and chain it. I take the canister from the back seat and carry it inside. I open its lid and find the orange envelope inside it. I sit on the chair and pull out my passbook. As I do a folded sheet of paper falls out. I pick it up and upon unfolding, discover that it is a letter. I begin reading. Halfway through I lunge forward and land on my knees. I look through the door

"It was you!"