Yersterday morning, while i was taking my car out of the house, my uncle screamed.."look your Rickshawallah is here".
I got of the car and saw Mangal, my school rickshawallah.
Since the time I remember i used to go to school in Mangal's rickshaw. 10-12 children cramped in one rickshaw. Mangal was our epitome of smartness. we all wanted to be smart and in control like him. Anybody who bothered to do some mischief, was reprimanded by him. "Lago Kya Kanpat ke niche" would be his words. Yes Mangal could hit us. Those were the days when our helpers would have the right to beat us. Status no bar. You do mischief and you got beaten up(although i confess my grandfather hit him once for beating my delicate elder sister)
Anytime we wanted to irritate him, we would chant" Mangal Dhanghal Char Aane, Hirvi Mirchi Bara Aane" Mangal would rise to the bait and one of our adventurous lot would be hit. But we loved the ride. We loved Mangal. The one who used to treat us to tamarinds from the road side trees. He even used to teach us to ride the rickshaw.
Today, things have changed....
I tower over Mangal by almost half a foot.His hair has turned grey.His eyes have sunk and look glazed, his face is lined. Mangal still rides the rickshaw. Only his ride has a few takers. No school children:( [no respectable parents ] he is a content man.
Although we all live in the 21st century but this short dimunitive man is still living where he was 20 years ago.
Content.....
