1. A TRIBUTE TO SOCIETY
Mr. Khatua had been the possessor of the 5th
floor apartment
at Upton Park, Alipur in Kolkata for the past 30 years. Ramesh was
the first guy he would turn to in the morning for the potatoes,
ladyfingers and onions. Ramesh was an integral part of not only
Mr. Khatua’s life but the life of all those who lived in Alipur’s
bourgeoisie locality at Uptown Park. He resided in Hashnabad, got
up at 3 in the morning and brought all those vegetables to Uptown
Park. His daily life surrounded those who called him by his name
and were of greatest politeness and humbleness to him. He sold
them his best grown vegetables at the most reasonable of prices.
He really loved those who were genuine to him and treated him
with affection. Mrs. Sen’s Ramu her best friend whenever she was
out on the streets and went marketing. It always seemed fishy to
Mrs. Rai how Mrs. Sen spend so much time talking to a green
grocer. This was often the topic between her and a lot of other
women at the locality. “What does she have so much to talk about
with a piglet such as Ramesh? Does she shed her blessings
outdoors or does she shed it indoors as well?” They could crack a
good joke about the relationship that the old lady shared with
Ramesh and simultaneously be annoyed at the low prices Ramesh
would provide to Mrs. Sen. It was not at all improbable for Mrs.
Rai to think the way she did, not only she did spend her life in the
confines of her apartment lamenting over the mistake of marrying
Mr. Rai and the fact that she could have married the film celebrity
back then. Mrs. Rai tributes her life in knowing the whereabouts of
Mr. Duggal’s son rather than keeping interest in Tony’s C grade in
school. It was the life she cherished along with quite a few other
residents at Upton Park.

2. It was a day of great mourning for Ramesh and his wife. A
terrible cyclone had gripped the Bangladesh border and as a result
of which Hashnabad was very badly affected. A lot of people saw
their lives crumbling down like a house of cards, right in front of
their own eyes. Some saw their life’s achievements and savings all
crash faster than a paper plane. For some this damage was not to be
recovered ever again, for others it was fighting and building their
castles with worn out tools. Ramesh was a recipient of nature’s
fury, in a manner which was far beyond any calculation. His
mother and wife had sought to tears to bring out their emotions,
but even that was not an option for him. He cried within himself,
without letting anybody know about the trauma and the thousand
drops of tears that filled his veins at that point in time, after all he
was the backbone of his. Rokesh was on course to be the topper of
his school in the upcoming board exams and Rojesh had just
gained interest in his studies, he was in class two. The destructive
advocate of nature’s fury had destroyed his source of income and
livelihood, his farm. The farm, in which, he much cherished his
work. The farm in which one day he dreamt of putting up
mechanical devices and tools so that the work of his son and
himself would be much reduced. The farm that was his asset, his
pride was beyond recognition amongst the debris and confines of
hurricane burdened Hashnabad. He watched on, as the van took
away the people of the locality to the nearby re-habilitation centre
where they will be nourished until the government came to their
rescue. Rescue which as elaborate as it may sound was nothing
more than the supply of dry food, inadequate in amount and hard
to come by(sometimes even once a week).
Ramesh’s misery went on for quite a few weeks, as days
went by, rescue became bleaker and bleaker, known faces began to
perish and got buried under the soil of poverty and hunger and
disease. As things went from bad to worse, Ramesh looked
towards the only place he could seek help and expect to get any,
Upton Park. He arrived at the market place after a period which

3. quite visibly did not have an effect on the progress of any of his
previous regular customers. He stood there by the side looking on,
as a new guy took his place, his absence had clearly gone against
his business propositions. He stood there for quite a while as Mrs.
Rai entered the scene, her glances at the passer-bys and flat mates
who had gone marketing was the usual like Ramesh had left them
a month back. He approached her, hoping that she might cheer out
that Ramesh was back again. He was quite a favorite amongst them
because of his good behavior and sober manner. As he called her
out, Mrs. Rai looked behind and her amazement was below par as
per Ramesh’s expectations. “Oh you, so you’re back? Good.” As
soon as Ramesh was about to begin with “Begum…” Mrs. Rai
caught sight of Mrs. Mullick and perpetually ran in her direction.
Mr. Khatua, in his usual Bermuda and half-sleeve tee-shirts was
doing the rounds of the market, when a voice, “Sahib, how are
you?” distracted him. He looked around and found the familiar
face of Ramesh. He smiled and cheered him and questioned him on
his absence, when Ramesh explained what transpired at Hashnabad
because of the hurricane, Mr. Khatua could only manage “Oh my
god! Ups and downs are a part of life my child, we have to deal
with them and exist. Don’t lose hope and move forward. You will
succeed.” Even the aged Mr. Khatua turned a blind eye toward
him. Similar reactions also came through from Mr. Das and Mrs.
Dutta went a step ahead in saying that it could a publicity stunt in
order to gain money.
Ramesh found no reason in standing there and asking for
help from people who desired to be of no help at all. He stood
there as an innate object, who was shocked and flummoxed at the
reaction he got from the bourgeoisie society who he served for the
past twelve years. A voice called out to him, the voice was known
to his ears, the voice of Khalid, who alongside Ramesh served the
same society as a shoe mender. The voice asked him to have a seat
and a drink of water, water which Ramesh very desperately needed
at that point in time. Khalid crept into his pocket and produced to

4. Ramesh at handful of 10 rupee bills, “keep them and spend them
wisely,” he sat their and all his emotions and frustration crept out
of him in the form of tears which he so remarkably had hid inside
of his self, covered with a layer of pseudo-strength. In a soft voice
he said, “Thank you Khalid bhai, may god bless you.” Khalid was
this character which epitomizes and characterizes the thoughtful
and caring section of the human society. Against all odds he
decides against turning away from his colleague and friend and
step up when others, with particular larger portions of money have
decided to step down.
Ramesh did return to Alipur another couple of times, but did
not receive any help for any of the residents except for a certain
Khalid. He returned home with nothing but free promises and
lectures on the difficulties of life and lessons on dealing with them.
The lessons certainly did not fill up Ramesh’s, his wife’s, his
mother’s, Rokesh or Rojesh’s hunger. A few months passed
likewise and slowly his mother breathed her last. Poverty and
despair took the better of her. One fine day, rescue did arrive at the
re-habilitation center, with food and cloths and water, but again
they were inadequate. People ran in all directions to fetch at least a
bite of the food or a blanket to shell out the cold. The man’s
journey was limited to these rescue teams and when they sought
out to get a source of living necessities, one man jumped onto
another and all hell broke loose. Ramesh stumbled onto the floor
and a foot stamped his face and then another on his throat, and
quite a few more landed on his body and his breath had run its last
race. His body quit his discomforted life and he was no more.
When the scene returned to Upton Park, people were busy
with their daily lives, then turned from Ramesh to a Suresh for
those fresh vegetables, and nobody turned even to check whether
the man ever returned. Khalid sat there stitching his shoes and his
work load was immense, he looked to his left for the old friend and
wiped the two drops of tears he shed.