Story: Bhola

I stopped there and moved my eyes to the corner where I was expecting someone, but in vain. He was not there; it had been two weeks since I last saw him

After all its mind and we sane people think. Lot of thoughts in my little gray matter started creeping up. Is he alright?? Has he fallen sick?? Has he met with an accident? Has he left the city? Has he shifted to somewhere else?

He is none other than a little boy. I wished for him in my deepest heart and moved ahead.

As I moved forward my mind went backward to remember the day, six months back when I was walking my way home & suddenly heard a voice “babuji……babuji……” and as I turned around, I saw a 10-11 yr old boy coming with a purse in his hands. His appearance was telling me the story of his poverty and suddenly my hand slipped into my pocket and it was missing. Before I could think of anything, he came and said in a low voice “Your purse…..Sir… It fell down when you were taking handkerchief out of your pocket”. I almost snatched the wallet from his hand, checked it and felt relaxed. It had all my credit cards along with 2000 bucks. It was untouched and not even single penny was missing from it; actually the boy didn’t open it at all.

“Everything is alright?”

“haa….. yeah… its alright…Thanks”. I said

He smiled & turned around to go back. I thought this poor boy deserves a reward for his honesty; he could have kept the wallet and enjoyed money as no one knew about it but he chose to return it. I called him… “Hey listen chhotu, what’s your name?” and the little heart said - “Bhola”

I offered him 100 Rupee note, “Keep it, and buy some sweets for you”

He smiled again and said, “Thank you babuji, but I cannot accept this money. I did what I felt right” and he returned.

And I was wondering how we elders overpass moral values in our lives to serve our self-indulgence & this little boy who might really needed the money but still he was honest & lived up to his self-esteem.

And this brought a feeling of guilt in my heart for offering him money.

Next day on the same route to my home, I saw Bhola, behind this flower stall that was setup with a table & short wooden slabs, the table was covered with not so good-looking but a clean fabric. Bouquets were placed according to their size, small one being at the front & bigger found the place in the last row. There were two half filled plastic buckets near the table, their top part seemed broken but the Rose flower buds kept inside were attractive enough to hide their placeholder’s deprived state.

I wondered how I could not notice him before while I passed by his stall daily? The next thought immediately answered my own question “It is a result of our coherent mindset; whenever you look someone in grimy clothes on the roadside, you try to ignore them believing that they will ask for money & they keep following you until you give them something.”

I went to his stall. Bhola welcomed me with a huge smile on his face. This was the thing I liked about him, one could never know if he had any grief in his life. He always greeted his customers with that sweet innocent curve, the finest thing he could do with his lips.

“This is my stall babuji” I could feel the pride in boy’s voice.

I thought to buy some flowers from him. Bhola helped me to choose flowers and also bettered my knowledge about flowers with different fragrance & their use. He started making bouquet with selected flowers. His small hands were slipping briskly on the flowers like an expert’s hands, and within minutes he prepared that gorgeous bouquet.

“How much?”

“Thirty Rupees, Babuji”

I paid him & moved towards home.

It became a routine now, I used to leave from office at 5:30 PM, as my home was at a walkable distance so I preferred to go on foot. On the way there was this stall, I stopped by it & happened to buy some flowers or other. Gradually I learnt the prices of all flowers. Later I used to pick the flowers, calculated price myself & paid him and he put it in a box without counting.

Sometimes, I used to chat with Bhola. I felt bad when I learnt that he never saw his father & his mother too could not survive tuberculosis & passed away two years back. He along with his younger brother stayed with his aunt alongside the railway track. Though she was nice to them & never asked but he paid her some money for rent & food she provided. His aunt was not in his relations; but after his mother she was the one who was taking care of them.

“Why don’t you go to school?”

“Babuji, I studied till 3rd grade, till my mother was alive. She worked in homes to pay my school fee. But after her I had to discontinue studies. Though aunty kept us good but she could not meet the expense of my studies. She too worked as a domestic help. I did not want to be burden on any one, so I started working.

Last year, I got my younger brother admitted to a government school as I earn enough to pay that small fee that they charge & other study expenses.”

Bhola told me that he distributed news papers before coming to the flower stall that gave him a few bucks extra by spending an hour in the morning.

Initially I insisted him to start study again but later stopped talking about it, thinking that how much this little chap could do all alone.

“I also wanted to go to school again, but I don’t get enough time; moreover I can afford one person’s study expenses only” Bhola told me once

Sometimes I felt like asking him if he needed any financial help but reminding the first day incidence, I could not dare to ask him.

Gradually Bhola made a place in my heart & probably this was the reason of my restlessness for not seeing him since two weeks.

Hundreds of times I thought of visiting his place near railway track but some precarious feeling prevented me to go there.

One week later I saw a familiar smile welcoming me. I almost jumped to see him but managed to control myself. I moved towards him, He too looked very excited to see me, seemed like he was waiting for me.

Before I could ask anything, he quickly took out something from a plastic bag which he was carrying today. It looked like a card; it was wrapped with a newspaper. He handed it to me.

With great inquisitiveness, I removed the wrapper slowly.

There was this paper where I could read his name on the top and whatever I read below that made me so delighted & bewildered at the same time.

It was Bhola’s mark sheet of 4th grade and he came up with flying colors in all his subjects.

‘Congratulation Bhola!!…. But…how ..you?” I stammered.

“Babuji, many people come at my stall but they do buy flowers occasionally and go their way after purchase. No one has time to talk to me. I always enjoyed talking to you. And I know you wanted to help me in a way or other thatswhy every day you purchase these flowers from me.

The other day when you asked me to resume my studies, I sensed the kind of affection that I felt in my mother’s eyes only. So I made my mind. From that day onwards whatever money I got from you, I started keeping it in a separate box. When I saved enough, I bought books for the 4th grade. I also got enrolled in a school which opens late in the evening. Immediately after giving you flowers, I had to run to attend my classes as the school starts at 6:00 PM. Normally I studied at nights.

It were my exams two weeks back, so I decided to devote more time to studies because I could not spend much time recently due to the work. This was the reason I could not come to stall. Though the exams were over last week but my brother got suffered from viral & I had to be at home for whole week to take care of him. He is well now.

I got my result yesterday only. I could not sleep the entire night as I was eagerly waiting for this morning to meet you & show this report card.”

I could easily figure out that feeling on his ever smiling face which comes up when you share your jovial moments with someone extremely closed to you.

And also felt a bit of wetness in the corner of my eyes.

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