Soliloquy @ City

 [The following is an old story/monologue/thought written suddenly sometime ago on a sudden night]

Possibly a power cut?? 

Or is it…? No!! 

Municipal workers would make much more noise before demolishing any house in this area. Then power cut it is. 

Why is he drenched in sweat then? 

He is quite habituated with sleeping without any fan or coolers. He can remember having this exact form of night sweat only once before. It was the night on which he decided to run away from his old place. 

He has always been scared of Sambhuda like every other kid in his area, as he was too hard on them. The common lore was that all crippled kids were dismembered by Sambhuda to increase their visibility among the train travellers for bigger begs. That day he heard Sambhuda discussing with one of his aides about selling something from some of the kid’s bodies. In a previous occasion he actually heard from someone that it hurts a lot when Sambhuda removes something from their body.  He had this exact night sweat back then and decided to run away from the shelter. 

 

This time the situation is a bit different though. He does not know from where he is running from or where he would run to. Although Chandida promised that his party will make sure that he would get some kagaz to prove his identity, in return he just has to donate a organ or two from his body. Possibly it might be the same organ that Sambhuda wanted back then. But this time he has no other options. He is not the same kid anymore, he now knows that apart from eyes, ears, hand and legs human body is basically made up of blood and hunger. If by any chance they remove the organ for hunger, he would actually be happy. When he was young it never occurred to him, but now he cannot dispense off the thought that he cannot remember his name. Whenever he is not working he can only think of this problem of not knowing his name, which out signs every other problem in his life, even the painful possibility of loosing  an organ or two.

 

 His memory of this city starts from his shelter days. He used to get a visit from some officer taking his finger prints on something, that paper might have some name for him. In fact, his best friend at the shelter used to call him by some name which rhymes with him, but he cannot remember his name as well. His friend, with his big nose sometime used to call his name loudly in case someone is after them for stealing biscuits or parathas. Although he can remember some of their mischiefs and the taste of stolen foods, but not the names.

 After running away from the shelter, he used to do all possible odd jobs in this city for money or food. His name changed depending on the job he is doing. Currently he is “darwan-bhai”, “darwan-uncle”, or “darwan-ji” but he used to be “chai”, “moylawala”, “bhanga-chora”, “riksha” and many more that he already has forgotten. In all his years in this city nobody asked for his name and slowly he forgot it altogether. Now sometime it feels like he might never had any name of his own. Perhaps thats the truth. He is alone in this big city with nothing he can call his own, even a name.

 

He never understood why people need a country anyway??!! 

Isn’t this city enough?? 

He can work anywhere he wants and somehow manages to eat at least once a day for sure. Perhaps the people calling him as darwan might need a country to live. 

Somehow for the need of those few, the country owners are forcing him to produce some kagaz to prove that he is a citizen of this country. He is sure that he is a citizen of this city, everyone sleeping with him in this basti knows him as darwanji. In fact, Kana-kalu still calls him by his old name riksha. Of course, he is not a citizen of this country, he never even went out of this city. He cannot prove his identity unless and until he donates an organ to Chandida as promised. Perhaps thats the price one needs to pay, a organ of your own for a country of your own.

 

This unnatural night sweat is warning him about the potential dangers as it has done before during his shelter days. 

What if he gives himself a name?? But what if thats illegal and he has to pay hafta to the police-mama??!!

What if he gives himself a name of his own in absolute secrecy and not let anyone else know?? 

That seems like a decent idea but then, what should he call himself!!

He does not feel like any and all the names he knows. He thought of taking the sweet boys name from flat 2B, but then isn’t it same as stealing identity?? What would the boy think of him if his “darwan-dadu” steal his name?? No!! he cannot do that. 

It smells and hears like morning now. He was completely lost on his own thoughts and missed most of his sleep today. It is going to be a very hard day to be able to stay awake and stand the full day at the apartment entrance. 

 

“Bhalo-dadu…o… Bhalo-dadu”. Here comes Shahrukh, the sweetest of all the kids that he knows here, with his ritualistic calling for him to give a piece of biscuit or something similar to eat. Shahrukh’s parents work through the night up until morning somewhere, and most of the time Shahrukh’s breakfast comes from his Bhalo dadu’s room. Honestly, he likes to feed the kid and look at him while he is eating. 

Perhaps he finds his lost childhood somewhere in Shahrukh. 

He suddenly got more upset than he was before. It’s quite strange that Amir and Rekha, parents of Shahrukh, can only donate one of their organs each and Chandida made it clear that it is not enough for all three of their Kagazs. 

 

He, a person without name, was the one naming the kid Shahrukh, after the famous film star from posters, the day he was born. Amir and Rekha were also named after some film stars or atleast they claim that is what their name is. They moved in this basti just some year back and nobody knows them by any other name. Honestly, he does not care about names anyway. He himself does not have any name but still the food tastes the same, the pangs of hunger are also the same whatever people decide to call him. 

 

What if..??? 

Yes!! 

He has decided. 

This simple thought filled him with immense joy. Indeed, this is what he should do. He might be nameless for the country owners but he is actually “Bhalo-dadu” for Shahrukh. He would now go to Chandida to happily donate his organ. This time not to take any one else’s name from a kagaz that is promised, he would instead let Shahrukh have a country. An organ of his own for a country of Shahrukh's own.