The Piggy -bank

“Inquilab Sindabad… Don’t sign Nuclear deal”. Protesters shouted vigorously. It was 3 O’ clock in the evening. Traffic was in standstill. Opposition party workers, led a procession to protest the ruling government signing the nuclear deal with US. As usual, media tried its best to cover the rally with its full glamour. Ordinary people were left at the mercy of the protesters, who thronged the main roads for hours. Some of the motorists could take diversion into the side roads. But those who were trapped in the flyovers, didn’t have a chance to move anywhere. Ramesh was one of them. After finishing the appointment he had with a client, he was returning to his office in the city centre. the managerial job he held in the prestigious insurance company, was not that easy. His day in office would start by 9.00 in the morning and end by probably 10.00 at night. For him, every minute wasted is like money being blown away. Like many other unlucky commuters stranded in the flyover, he too cursed politicians for causing nuisance to public. He had no other options but to curse. Frantically he made some calls from his cell phone. He asked his secretary to postpone some meetings he had planned for the evening. He was sure that he won’t reach office before 7.00 PM.

Agitated and infuriated, Ramesh tried to do something useful while sitting in the car. He looked at the magazines, nor and music CDs kept on the seat. But nothing could relax him. Constant sense of business loss, with every passing minute, kept disturbing him. He couldn’t even come out of the car as the flyover was jam packed. His car was sandwiched between the flyover walls and a big truck. Peeping out through the window, he looked at the long queue of cars and bikes in front of him. He was just at the beginning of the flyover.

He pulled down the glasses. Knowing that he cannot do anything else, he kept on watching the shouting protesters. Slowly he glanced though the big slum area lying adjacent to the main road on his right. That was an interesting place. The flyover junction bore an unusual look. On one side there were big glass buildings of MNCs. The other side was a big slum area. Many of the construction labourers in the city belonged to this area. As he was looking at the pathetic state of the slum, his eyes caught the attention of two kids, a boy and a girl, sitting in front of their house. It was a make-shift tent made with torn and dirty polythene sheets. As he watched them, the shouting of the protesters and long queue of vehicles ahead of him disappeared from his sight. The kids drew his attention completely. They were counting coins from a small piggybank. The boy was counting the coins, and the girl, probably his sister, was looking at the coins curiously. A woman, may be their mother, was busy doing something inside the tent. After counting few coins, the boy would look at the girl. Then both will have a smile on their face. Though Ramesh was in his car, he could clearly see the expressions on their faces from that distance. The boy finished counting and put all the coins back into the piggybank. Then he gave it to the girl. She put all the coins back on the floor and started counting it herself. It was fun to watch them doing it repeatedly.

“Aren’t they experiencing a strange happiness by counting and recounting?” Ramesh thought. All of a sudden he remembered that, he too had counted coins similarly..many many times. Memories of the wooden piggybank he had, rushed to his mind. He raised the wind glasses, reclined the seat and closed his eyes. Silence prevailed around. Like in a movie flashback, some good old memories flew in. ..of the wooden piggybank..of the first crush….

Twenty years back..life was not the same. Poverty and slum kids were his friends. He was in ninth class. At least he was lucky that his mother vowed to send him to school at any cost. That was a luxury for a slum kid. Though it was not the time to worry about problems of life, the almighty had given bit more maturity to Ramesh, than his friends. While others went out cheerfully for flying kites or taking a dip in the adjacent canal, Ramesh would help his mother by earning something. After school, he worked for two to three hours. He would do some odd jobs like delivering vegetables and groceries to the nearby houses, apart from other household jobs like car washing or paying utility bills. Only on weekends he would join his friends at the football ground. His mother used to work as maid servant in many nearby apartments. His father was a construction worker and a total drunkard. He existed just for the namesake. The nearby bars sucked all that the guy earned. His mother’s income was the main source of their livelihood. Sometimes, his mother would request Ramesh to help her with some work in the apartments, mostly for elderly people. Ramesh would do that happily and get paid reasonably. His best client was Mrs. Gomez who lived in the Anglo Indian street. She was a widow

Anglo Indian street was crowded than any other place there. But the buildings there preserved the British architectural beauty. As time passed, the new owners demolished and revamped many of them for a modern look. Mrs. Gomez lived on the top floor of a three storey apartment in the corner of the street. She was in her early sixties. Severe arthritis had crippled her to a large extent. Ramesh and his mother were of great help to her. Ramesh’s mother was the house maid there. Almost all the cleaning and washing jobs were done by Ramesh’s mother. Ramesh would buy all the groceries for the old lady. Mrs. Gomez did only cooking. She was very particular about it. She hated outside food. She never behaved as if she was the employer and never looked down at Ramesh or his mother as her servants. She was gentle and compassionate. Ramesh and his mother respected her for that. Mrs. Gomez also used to extend financial help to Ramesh’s family as on when required.

Ramesh had a priced possession…a wooden piggybank. It was given to him by Mrs. Gomez. While giving it to him. She said

“You must learn to save money. If you do that now…your tomorrows would be better. Every penny counts son..”

She gave that to him with a ten rupee note in it. That was big money for him. When he came home, proudly he showed that to his mother. The he hide it below his books kept on the floor. He made sure that no one noticed that immediately. Since that day, every evening he would put few coins into that piggybank. That would be his net savings of the day, after giving most of the earnings to his mother. He was aware of the hardships his mother was taking to make both ends meet.

In his eyes, his father was a completely useless guy. He hated him deep in his heart. He never had any pleasing memory of his father. All that he had seen and heard were verbal and physical abuses, both under the influence of drugs and alcohol. People also said that he had another wife and kids somewhere. He would come home once in a week or so. On that day, invariably there would be fights with his mother and the guy would snatch money from her savings. Her cries would not deter that drunken beast. All Ramesh could do then would be to hug her and say

“Amma..don't cry..Once I grow up…I will take care of you. Then he wont dare to come near us”

As the days passed, the piggybank grew in weight. Every night before sleeping, he would take it out and weigh it on his hands. Then he would have a great satisfaction. That was like fuel firing a passion. He worked very hard after school. Some days..even three to four hours.

Hopes and dreams were not only the right of the rich. Poor people like Ramesh were also entitled to have them..He dreamed of many things…big house, car, good food and what not. Also he dared to nourish an infatuation…He liked that girl, Lekshmy, in his class. The first Crush…He didn’t know what to name that feeling….but sure he knew that he liked her a lot and wished for her friendship. She was an average looking girl in his class. She was not even his friend. But he liked her. Her eyes appeared to him like glittering diamonds. When she smiled at him, the cupid’s arrow hit him straight in his heart. Did she have any feelings for him? May be? ..may be not…. Ramesh didn’t know what she felt. He didn’t dare to ask. But the little romeo thought of many ways to impress her and win her friendship. He didn’t even tell this to his friends. What if they make fun of him..or make it public.. and what if the girl gets angry.? He kept on thinking. Finally he made a plan. With the help of a friend he found out her birthday. And to his joy, the date was approaching in a month. “What else is a better occasion than birthday.. Let it begin with a birthday gift.” The romeo thought.

What to buy? What is a girlie thing that she would like? How much that would cost? These difficult questions troubled him a lot. He was entering into an unknown but expensive territory..expensive in terms of money and peace. Almighty gave him a solution to the first question. One day, while returning from school, he saw, she and her friends looking curiously at the display in a ladies’ store. Later, his cautious spy work revealed the object of her adoration.. a black bracelet with golden lining. When the shopkeeper told him that it would cost nearly hundred rupees, his heart sank. It was a big amount for him. The most expensive item he had bought so far, was an ink pen for twenty rupees. He had funded that from his piggy bank.

“Would the money in the piggybank be enough?”. He asked himself

That day evening, he came back early. Under the light of the kerosene lamp, he opened his piggybank, pulled out the coins and notes on the floor. He started counting. There were only few currency notes. Mostly it was coins. All together it was seventy two rupees.

“where can I get the remaining money?” His little mind began to worry. Someone in his heart said that spending huge money for someone whom he barely knows, is foolishness. But the romeo in his heart advised him to listen to his heart. After all it is his own money. He calculated in his mind…

“four weeks are there before the birthday. One more hour of extra work everyday can bring that money”

He started working extra hours. He felt extremely happy on every coin he earned. He felt like having a meaning to his earnings. That would reflect in his eyes every night when he counts his earnings. One day while he was about to put back the piggybank, he saw a shadow moving beside him. He looked up in panic. In the faint light of the kerosene lamp, he saw the figure he hated the most…his father.

“what is that you are trying to hide?? His father asked in a shivering voice. He was fully drunk and couldn’t even stand firm.

“Nothing “ ….With fear in mind and hatred in eyes Ramesh said.

That night he shifted his piggy bank beside the metal trunk, where he kept his cloths. Next day onwards, he took extra precaution while counting the coins. As the days passed, the money grew…though bit slowly. After three weeks, it was almost ninety rupees. That day he talked to the shop keeper about the bracelet. He said that he would buy it in few days time. He requested the shopkeeper not to sell it to anyone else. Two days later, after reaching home, when he searched for the piggybank, he could not see it at the usual place. Panic and grief stuck him at once. He searched everywhere. He asked his mother. But she didn’t know. They both searched for it. Finally he could see the broken lid of the piggybank, outside his hut. He realized that the money was stolen. Immediately one face came to his mind…

’that drunken beast ...he must have taken that.’

For a fourteen year old boy, that was enough to have the world collapsed. Birthday gift, friendship…all that he dreamed, were gone like a mirage. He felt miserable. All that he could do was to cry silently. Next day morning, a neighbor said that his father had a feast at the bar with his “ugly” friends throughout the night. Ramesh felt like killing his father at first sight.

He could not concentrate on studies. He didn’t go for work also. More than the loss of money. what hurt him most was the friendship with Lekshmy eluding him. In that distressed moment, the grief stricken romeo, let the devil get into his mind.

“get the bracelet by hook or crook. Don’t loose this chance. Need to get that much money..somehow”. he thought

“Ramesh…why didn’t you go to work. Mrs. Gomez was asking for some help. She is not well. She was asking if you could accompany her to the hospital today evening? His mother asked him.

He nodded his head in agreement. But then the devil inside him, brought a glitter in his eyes…”

“Mrs. Gomez…that’s the source…she must be having money.” He thought. His mind stared making quick plans.

He rushed to Mrs. Gomez’s house in the Anglo Indian street. She had an appointment with the doctor in the city hospital. Usually she used to go alone. But this time, she was not well and hence she requested for some help. Ramesh, took her to the hospital in a taxi. By 8 O’clock in the night he took her back. He also helped her to clean up the main hall of her house, which was looking bit untidy. While doing all these, his mind was planning something else. Then he noticed the black leather purse Mrs. Gomez kept on the table.

“Ramesh..thanks a lot son. I hope I haven’t troubled you. I was not that well. Otherwise I would have gone myself.” Mrs. Gomez said

“Its Ok aunty. Its my pleasure to help you. It is not at all a trouble for me”. Ramesh said, still eying the black leather purse.

Then everything happened very quickly. When Mrs. Gomez went inside to change dress, he opened the purse quickly and grabbed couple of notes kept loose inside. He didn’t wait to count it. Even in that cold winter night, he sweated profusely. Few minutes later, Mrs. Gomez came out of her room. Then she opened her leather purse. Ramesh stood there anxiously, expecting to be caught red handed at any time. But to his surprise, Mrs. Gomez took out a five rupees note and gave it to him.

“Son… put it in your piggybank. “

He didn’t know what to say. Mechanically he grabbed the note, thanked her and came back. That night he didn’t sleep properly. He knew that he has sinned…the first ever big sin. The guilt feeling kept on haunting him. But for few more days, the devil inside suppressed that sense of guilt. The booty he got from Mrs. Gomez was just about fifty rupees. Next day itself he bought the bracelet. Even after having that, he didn’t feel happy. He knew very well that it is bought with stolen money. Nevertheless, he waited for Lekshmi’s birthday. On that day, he approached her nervously. Hiding the bracelet behind his back, he wished her. She accepted the wish with a smile. But when he gave her the bracelet..her face turned red. The smile was gone. Her eyes frowned. She looked at him as if he did some heinous crime. She could sense in his eyes, what he was after. Without saying anything, she left the place, totally ignoring him.

The romance ended there…even before it could bud. Ramesh was not the kind of hard core romantic hero who could go to any extent to get her back. Life had presented many more complex problems to him in a platter. The series of events that happened since then, took his thoughts, time and effort. Death of his father in an accident, his mother loosing the housemaid’s job in two apartments, another landlord accusing him with theft in his house…and so on. For some time, he realized that things were totally out of control. No, matter how hard he tried, life took its own ugly route. By the time things settled slowly, he had almost forgotten the first romance. May be he made a deliberate attempt to forget. His mother managed to get job in couple of new apartments. He also managed to grab a better part time job in a textile shop. That was the time when Mrs. Gomez was hospitalized. Old age was taking toll on her. She didn’t have any relatives to look after her. The only near ones she had was Ramesh and his mother. It was really tough times for Ramesh and his mother. They had to manage the hospital duty without disrupting other commitments. Ramesh had to manage household works, school and textile shop.

Saturday Ramesh was bit relaxed. By afternoon, he finished all the piled up jobs. Then he got ready for night duty in the hospital. When he entered the room, Mrs. Gomez was sleeping. The bottle of I.V fluid was half finished. A glass of water and few tablets were kept on the side table. He sat on the chair kept for the by stander. He looked at Mrs. Gomez’s face. Her face was serene, though it wore many wrinkles and a tired look. He remembered the piggybank she gave him. His heart began to feel heavy. He remembered everything that happened…the first ten rupees note...her kind words…the horrible night when he stole the notes from her purse…”. those memories and the guilt feelings were too much for a fourteen year old. The devil who had overpowered him for a while, ran away, never to return. An angel in his mind whispered…

“Confess boy…for tomorrow you may not get a chance. Go..Confess..”

Ramesh stood up. He went to the rear side of the bed. With trembling hands he touched Mrs. Gomez’s feet. In that posture, he stood there for few minutes…praying in silence..asking for forgiveness .and mercy. Few tear drops rolled out of his eyelids and made its way down. The protruding check bones routed it through the lips. When he felt the saline taste, he opened his eyes. To his surprise, he saw Mrs. Gomez, looking at him and smiling.

“What happened son…why are you crying”

He didn’t answer for few moments. He kept on looking down. The good angel persuaded him further. Finally taking out all the courage, he said

“I have something to say aunty”. He hesitated to complete.

“ Please tell me louder son..I can’t hear you”

Ramesh went near to Mrs. Gomez. He grabbed her hands. Keeping it close to his forehead, he said

“Aunty..I am a sinner. I stole money from your purse last month. I could not sleep since then. Please forgive me..I wanted some money desperately. I could not resist the temptation..but I am not a thief aunty..I will pay you back once you come home”. He wept while saying this.

With trembling hands, Mrs. Gomez touched his head. In a tired but soft voice she said.

“without you telling me, I did understand that, the same day. Even minutes before you took it, I had counted the notes in my bag. But.. son.. I didn’t want to ask you there and embarrass you. I knew that there must have been some dire situation, which must have prompted you to do it. I know ..you are not the kind of boy who would steal anything anytime. And ..also I knew… that you would tell me this one day..son..I am happy that you did that today.”

Ramesh wept silently. He kept her hands close to his heart. For few moments the only sound audible was the ticking of the cardiac monitor in the room.

“son.. you must have taken all the courage to take the money from my purse that day. But it takes a lot more courage to confess that….a lot more than you can think. We all make mistakes son....no one is an exception. Then we all struggle with that guilt feelings. But when you take the courage to accept the mistakes and confess….you come out victoriously in that struggle between right and wrong. Make it a habit in your life son…it will pay you”.

Next day evening Mrs. Gomez died in sleep. It was a peaceful death. The doctor who attended her said that he has not seen such a serene face at death over a log time. People from her apartment and the church took care of all the rituals. She was buried in the catholic cemetery in the outskirts of the city. Ramesh didn’t cry when his father died. He only felt happy for himself and his mother. But when Mrs. Gomez died, he cried. He felt that a part of his life was taken away.

Rest is history…interwoven with struggles, fights, hopes, and determination. Ramesh continued his studies. He worked part time, with better pay. Slowly he earned more and asked his mother to reduce her workload. His determination, intelligence, honesty and sincerity, brought him goodness as he passed every hurdle. From piggybank, he moved to savings bank account. Life progressed. After the initial small time jobs, he became the area manager in a reputed insurance company. The very first year itself, he got the best employee award there. Perhaps, what helped him the most in his career, instead of his intelligence and hard work was, his attitude…mentality to accept his mistakes and confess boldly….the greatest lesson Mrs. Gomez taught him.

Loud noises of horns and moving vehicles woke him from his journey to the past. The procession had crossed the junction. He started his car and moved forward. Through the wind shield he looked at the kids in the slum area. They still had the piggybank on their hands. Perhaps they were counting the coins again.

‘“God bless you kids. “ he whispered while pressing the accelerator.