Felt that most of my stories were dark with death and dying and serial killers…:P so here’s something lighter…
The gentle drip drip of the water from the leaking toilet upstairs hit Thomas straight in the face, waking him up as usual. He got up, rolled over the mat to avoid the water drops, and squinted at the clock dangling from the wall that was filled with posters of Pamela Anderson and Vidya Balan, posters which would not have gone down well with the “Indecent Represention of Women ” people you saw in the news .It was close to six, which meant Mr. Govind upstairs had woken up early ( hence the toilet water). It also meant that the toilet- line in his own floor would have now crossed the dangerous limit of five people, and Thomas would now have to stand with his legs clamped together, lest the dam explodes between them. He grabbed the bucket, his mug, brush and tongue cleaner, and ran. The usual four people were there already, Chako reading newspaper at the head of the line, the Nepali guy (who worked at a shopping mall in the city as a security guard ) was next, who o was trying to talk to fat man Krishnaprasad next to him. And last was his trusty roommate Benny, who had the look of a surgeon getting ready for a major neuorsurgery on his face.
They all greeted Thomas , like colleagues do when they see each other in the office, except they were standing in a line to clean their bowels.. The newspaper passed on to the hands of the Nepali security guard, who could read Malayalam as well as Thomas could read Arabic, and he glanced at it stupidly. Twenty minutes later and after much grumbling , Thomas was finally at the head of the line when Benny came out and said, “Sorry Thoma… No water left .. The corporation must have switched it off early”.. Damn. Today was looking like a bad day.
He went back to his one room shack which he shared with four other people. There was a bucket of water that they kept for emergencies which today had to be rationed between the four of them. He brushed, washed his face and took down one of his clean shirts. He had a wide array of pants to choose from the cloth line that passed through the centre of the room, coz he didn’t know which were his!! All were black, all were dirty to different degrees and stank to different levels, the typical working mans wardrobe. He pulled one down that looked like his, put it on and put his hand in his right pocket to find his prized possession, which also confirmed he was wearing his pants. He took out the slighty crumpled piece of paper, and stared at it like a magic ticket to Willy Wonkas chocolate factory, his one ticket out of this hellhole.
The Kerala Samsthana Bhagyakuri ( State Lottery) doled out the highest stakes around Onam, the Malayali’s major festival. Last year the stakes were three crores, and the person who won was a hotel employee who spent his days making Parotas. Today he was owned a grand house, was constructing a three storey hotel in a posh city locality and drove around in a Mercedes. Thomas looked at the numbers.. AJ ..34.. 25..25..12..29.. Would these numbers change his life? He would find out at the newspaper stand down the street. He corrected the lopsided photo of Jesus that hung on the wall, and took out the last matchstick , which refused to light after five tries. He said a silent prayer and rushed out the door. Today was not looking good at all,
He was already ten minutes late when he jumped down the last three steps of his five storey “Apartment” ( illegally constructed, most likely) and ran down what was possibly the thinnest slum street in Cochin. Checking his watch, he figured there would be no time to squint at the newspaper to check his lottery and ran to the bus stop. He saw his usual bus (S.B Travels- bright red, loud and with people stuffed like sardines) already pulling out the stop and ran after it. He had to actually cajole a couple of people on the footboard to give him leg space . Dangling dangerously from the footboard as the bus swerved and spluttered past the busy morning traffic, Thomas took his first breath of fresh air in the morning.. After three stops, the conductor finally got around to the back of the bus, josltling between woman and children in that expert fashion that only cus conductors seemed to have mastered. Thomas muttered KAKANAD stop, and reached into his pocket to realize how bad his day was really going to be. The purse, which held all the money he ever possessed (around 300 Rupees) was not there!! The conductor looked like he was about to slap him, but he merely smiled and gave Thomas a gentle nudge out the door.
If the bus moving any faster Thomas would surely have been killed or injured, but it had been merely rolling out of a stop, so Thomas just managed to land on his feet and not fall full face down into a pothole up front. But the car coming behind the bus didn’t bother with the pot hole, and the splutter of the muddy water (hopefully mud and not anything else) landed straight across his shirt. Boy this day was surely looking bad..
He reached the supermarket where he worked as a helper boy, not a great and promising career but something which paid the bills and fed him (sometimes) 3 square meals a day.The manager, Mr Srinivas, was not amused at his employee for turning up a good hour later, sweating, with a mud soaked shirt and a bad stink. He covered his nose and pointed at the changing room in the rear, saying that he needed to have a word with him later in the day . It was 11 a.m and the customers trickled in, some asking for help from the helper boys, mostly finding their way on their own.
Lunch break saw him sitting next to Shreya, the one glint of sunshine in his dark dungeon of a workplace. He loved Shreya more than anything in life, and everytime he lost the lottery , he closed his eyes and thought of her. This made him realize that there were better thing s in life than a stupid lottery. After two years of running around her, Shreya, the cute dimpled girl who sat in the cashiers seat, had agreed to his proposal. That was a year back, and many long walks on the beach, coffees at Indian Coffee House ( cheapr than CCD) and silent snuggling in the movie halls later, Thomas was sure that Shreya would be his girl for the rest of his life.
Shreya seemed distant today, not her usual bubbly self. After some time she started sobbing. “ I am getting next month”, she said at last. “Mr. Srinivas met my parents last week, asked me for his son, the IT guy, and gave me a photo. I liked him and said yes”. She mumbled something about him being a sad little helper in a supermarket and her needing a more “stalble” s guy in her life, things that didn’t seemed to matter the last year. Her words were drowned by the sound of his own heart cracking into a million little pieces. He cried, deep down in that dark place men don’t show to the outside world, but the tears didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he merely shrugged and walked away back to the biscuits section, wiping his face. How worse could the day get?
Nine o clock, the end of the day, and Thomas was sitting on an upturned bucket in the closet, wishing that the whole day had been a bad dream. He was about to head out the front door, when Mr. Srinivas beckoned him to a corner. “Look Tom, you are a good helper, and dontgive me much trouble,” the boss began “ but I have heard stories aout you and Shreya. She must have told you that she is going to become a part of my family from next month. You and Shreya have a history and I don’t want people to talk . So from tomorrow, you need not bother coming to the store. I will give you a coulpe of references if you want”. Thomas’s head drooped down and he slumped his shoulders, but he refused to cry. He didn’t the to make this day any worse. Instead, he merely smiled and pointed at the newspaper. Mr. Srinivas understood. He handed it to him, and patted Thomas on his way out.
Thomas went to the beach, sat down, opened the newspaper and went straight to the lottery section. He smiled. AC.. 56.. 33..10..01..09.. Not even a single digit matched his ticket, which was quite natural. He was having the worst day of his life. He had lost his wallet, soiled his shirt, lost his girl and his job, so losing a lottery with a one to a crore chance was no biggie . He sat for some time there, watching the waves splash against the rocks. What more did he have to live for? A non existent career, a shack in a slum for a house, and a future without Shreya? He contemplated ending it all right there, but then remembered his two unmarried sisters and ageing mom back in his village. Damn!! He couldn’t even take his own life!
The lights in his room were off, but Benny seemed awake, sitting in a corner of the
Room , the dull streetlight reflecting his silhouette. He was drunk as usual, and he blabbered something about his pants being stolen and him finding a wallet and 300 bucks in another pant. So that’s where his wallet went!! He went to the clothes line, felt around for his pants and his wallet and felt in the right had pocket. The crumpled piece of lottery was still there. He took the ticket and the newspaper to the window, and read the numbers by the streetlight flooding in. He then went slowly next to the photo of Jesus hanging from the wall, knelt and let silent tears run down his face. Next to him, the ticket fluttered to the floor, bearing the numbers AC.. 56.. 33..10..01..09.. The WINNING NUMBERS.!!
