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A true story – “An altruistic love”

by Rinku Khumukcham
0 comment 7 minutes read

By Rabin Prasad Kalita

The darkish but striking lass Nupur, being the eldest one out of a group of four minor rag pickers, helped the other three to identify the retrievable bits and pieces. She had been walking with a piece of rod in hand, which tied with a tad of a magnet in one end, and then fished out for salvageable iron bits. 
Recyclable materials from the streets of the railway colony, garbage dump, market or trash bin were their sources of picks that fetched them money. Their extreme poverty forced them to enter this profession to stay alive.
Arpan, a well-bred Vivekananda School student, roughly sees them roving and collecting scraps from unhealthy plunks. Seeing them wandering all the day in search of rags, slinging huge plastic sacks on their petite shoulders, out cried his tiny heart in pain. They went through a very harsh time searching all over to eke out their livelihood. He scrupulously watched their untidy and soiled clothes, careless hairs standing by the side of the road. 
Oft he saw them meeting with injuries and falling sick because of the toxic substances and sharp material while they scrounged with bare hands and feet. He also thought about the hard truth of these deprived rag pickers who are ignored in spite of playing a vital role in the waste management system.
Sometimes he broke into tears by seeing them consuming waste-food collected from the heaps of garbage, and it seemed like they were enjoying lunch together with rapture sitting by the side of the pile. Seeing their pitiable state of living, Arpan grew a sense of help towards these deserted children. Every so often, he would bring toffees, or biscuits for them bought out of his pocket money.  
Being an ardent well-wisher, he loved to talk and pass time with them. Seeing him at a distance, they used to run shouting by his name and asked for anything he could afford them to eat from a nearby shop. They would start dancing on the street at the pleasure of getting to eat something. These cute deprived kids hardly found him empty-handed while he was on the way to his school. All of them felt delighted to meet Arpan daily at a fixed time.
Sometimes he thought big with his diminutive brain and was indoctrinating them to attend the nearby government school, where there was a scheme of mid-day meals.
They said, “Of course Bhaiya (big brother). We went for a few days but stopped in between because it was hard to survive with a scanty single meal for the entire day.”
Though, Arpan was cheerless to hear this but felt genuine about who would feed them at night. These children had to sleep without eating a bit. Hence, they continued to pick rags and sell those to the middlemen for their living.
He observed that they didn’t have much attention from their families. Even they didn’t heed to their parents’ advice. The reason behind is, they were left abandoned, hence forced to do anything to meet their expenditure themselves. Often they spent their night sleeping on pavements or in shacks because of their weak links with their parents.
One day Arpan saw three out of them fighting each other fiercely while he was on the way to his home. Helpless Nupur stood amongst them and somehow tried to calm the quarrel. The cause of the fight was about the decision of a little valuable find amidst a mound of rubbish that claimed individually by all three pickers.
“Hey-hey you morons, may I know why are you all bent on beating each other? Didn’t you feel ashamed to fight among your loved ones? Tell me what the problem is”, said wrathfully by Arpan.
The moment they heard him saying in anger, the fight got clogged in no time. Listening the whole story from Nupur, Arpan called them all, for a convenient solution, in fact who to get the find. It was probably earnest respect paid to him, which he earned over a year of cordial closeness with them.
At-times Arpan used to call them to collect some reusable second-hand clothes and footwear once wore by him and his sister. Therefore, he informed his father, Siddhant, about his word of honor to help those destitute kids. Hearing this, it filled his dad with happiness.
Some days later, when Nupur and her colleagues came up to Arpan’s railway colony quarter, all of them were greeted with some palatable dishes to eat. Then they left, along with some supports as assured by Arpan. Seeing them leaving their home happily, Dad and his son got contented with enormous tranquility. Simultaneously, Siddhant was equally concerned about their future too. 
After a few years of empathetic association with these street children, Arpan had to move out of the city to Chandigarh for his higher study. And thus their everyday flocking with him was almost ended up from meeting in person.
By the time, scraggy Ganesh with the dappled face and the eldest one among the three boys grew physically enough to ride a tricycle. He started collecting as an itinerant buyer directly from households, shops, and offices. But he still kept his amiable rapport with the other three guys as before. Since then, all three of them started selling their picks directly to Ganesh.   
As they grew up, their behavior and the view to see by themselves started changing. Gradually they began to drink country liquor, smoke and chew tobacco with many other colleagues of the same community without getting controlled by anyone. Wish there would have been someone to check and guide them from misdoings.
One evening teenage Nupur walked up alone to Siddhant’s home with her shaky legs under the influence of liquor in search of Arpan. He got dumbfounded to see her in an inebriated condition. Though she boozed up, yet she maintained her prudence while inquiring about his son. He informed her that, for study, Arpan stays far away from them.
Being a little emotional, she said, “Okay, uncle! Please convey our good wishes to him and also tell that we recalled him a lot”. Concurrently, she muttered, “Wish Arpan would have been here today”!
Before Siddhant spoke anything, she walked out wobbling all the way. Looking at her, he stood still for a while, until the dark swallowed up her.
That evening Siddhant found himself in an unaided state of mind, which banged him with many unanswered questions. Realizing the griming situation, he helplessly ruminated about thousands of Nupurs all over who are all exposed to addiction, physical abuse, eve-teasing, and exploitation by a debauched lot.  
Thereafter, she was not traceable for almost a year. 
One fine morning suddenly she appeared into Siddhant’s home with her henna tattooed hands, draped with a sparkling bridal silk sari, accompanied by a smart young dusky masculine guy worn with a pair of nuptial Dhoti-Kurta. He got surprised to see her coyly smirking face after a long span of audio-visual separation between them. This time too, before Siddhant speaks, she and her just married bridegrooms touched his feet and asked for his blessings. Both looked like Har-Gauri.
Her typically wore red pigment in the parting of hair, cleared the suspense to know about Nupur. He brought them in gleefully and blessed for their long union of conjugal life. Before they ask for a bye, he offered some cash to the couple as a lucky omen. Then the duo begged a bye with lots of happiness and left them off clenching each other’s hands to start a beautiful marital life.

The writer is an Ex Air Warrior (India). He can be contacted at [email protected]

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