The Flag-Seller

The flag-seller stood still, watching the women kneeling before him. A feeling of dismay touched him. She looked thinner every time he saw her. He could clearly see her eye socket and cheek-bones against the hollow that used to be her cheeks. The long bony finger of her hand that were buttoning his shirt, the carved out belly that wasn’t because of excess of food, the old tethered sari whose each strand of fabric he could see clearly added to his anguish. He had failed in his responsibility, he felt. He was now a young man, the eldest man anyway, of his family and so it was his duty to look after his family, to fulfill all their needs, to give than the good life that people talked about, to make sure they don’t starve. The flag-seller was seven years old. “Do you remember the lines?” the flag-seller's mother asked him, after buttoning his shirt. She had got it just a day before when ‘Malkinbai’ had taken out a bundle of old clothes for yearly Independence Day donation. She now looked at her son. A smile broke on her face. It was oversized but her son looked good, at least better than that stuffed kid who used to wear it previously. “Of course I do.” The flag-seller glared at her. How could she think he would do such a blunder? They were after all the secret of his success, for the last two years that he had been in business. He knew that her lines helped attract his customers towards him. He always managed to sell more flags than other boys. This year he had been given more flags than rest of…. “Repeat them for me.” She said getting up and moving in another corner of the hut where her four year old son and two year old twin daughters were sleeping. That part of the hut was relatively safer from water that kept on dripping from the roof. She picked up the plastic sheet lying on the floor. Mean while her son had started his recital. “Vande Mataram…” he was singing. “Sujala-a-a-a-a-m…”she picked up the tune,”Sufala-a-a-a-m….Malayaja…” he looked at her. She had a very sweet voice. She come near him, still singing, wrapped him in the plastic sheet while he held his plastic bag of flags tightly across his chest. Then she opened the door of hut. It was pitch dark outside with a slight drizzle. He wasn’t surprised. That’s how it generally is at five in the morning in the middle of August. “Mataram…Vande…Mataram.” The mother and son sang as the flag-seller stepped in the rain and disappeared in the darkness. “Two small ones for a rupee and a big for two.” The flag seller was shouting in his tuneful voice. At least three more boys shouted with him. This slightly unnerved him. The competition had increased this year. There was a time when not even half this number used to be present here.The school was three kilometers out side the city and well isolated. It took him half an hour to reach here but it was well worth it. This was his main income spot. The strength of nearly four hundred students and there parents was enough for even four flag-seller, he thought now, whatever that was left, he could sell them leisurely in the streets and the squares of the city. “Jhande lelo Jhande….” The rest of the boys were shouting “rang birangi jhande.” The flag seller smiled. Those were no flag-sellers; they were just boys trying to sell flags. Their voices would run hoarse in no time and then there would be silence. There were some tricks to the business, he thought silently. Mean while his eyes were roaming the area for a potential customer. It was quarter to seven and the first bell had just been rung. Students were moving inside the gate. This was a crucial moment as, the flag-seller knew, last minute buyings were very common. “O’ jhandewale..!” a lady cried holding hand of a boy barren of any flag. The flag-seller had already spotted them but they were nearer to another boy. There was no point wasting his time running there. Suddenly he spotted a man coming out of the school gate and looking around. That was it. He ran. “O’ jhandewale..!” the man shouted and before the other boys could even turn their head the flag-seller was there. “Flags Sa'abji..?” he ask, the stunned the man nodded and took two large once for his to kids standing behind him. A good deal. “O jhandewale..!” there was another shout and the flag seller dived towards it. In ten minute he managed to sell as many flags as he had in the past hour. The final bell sounded and the gates closed. That was the end of the business in the school. The other boys started leaving but the flag-seller stayed put. He had his whole day to sell the remaining flags. There was no need to hurry besides it was time for his favorite event of the day- the Independence Day celebrations. “O jhandewale…!” There was a shout. The flag-seller looked forward, surprised. In his entire career of two years there, he had never seen the main gate open after the final bell. He looked around, there was nobody? All the other boys had left. Good, he smiled and ran to the woman who had called him, singing, “two small one for a rupee and a big for two”. “Flag Madamji..?” he asked her showing his variety of small flags, big flags, plastic flags…The women smiled and looked down at the kid amused. ‘Yes’ she said, “I’ll take twenty big ones”. “Twenty..?” the flag-seller whispered stunned, this was a dream deal, “yes, yes” he said barely controlling his joyous laughter, “ one minute please” he counted out twenty big flags carefully and held them out. He had now almost finished his big one. All that remained were the small one which he could sell off easily. “Thank you”. The woman said sweetly, taking the flags and handling him the money. But the flag seller was not looking at her. He was trying to get a peep thought the gate inside the school. “O jhandewale…!” she patted him softly on his head. He looked at her sheepishly, smiling widely, and took the money. “Happy independence day Madamji!” he said joyously after counting the money. “Same to you dear," she said and looked at his excited form.She then turned to leave but the flag-seller stayed, drinking in the scene of neat rows of students in white shining cloths that he could see through the crack in the gate. The women stopped in her track and turned. “Will you like to come in?” she asked him. He couldn’t believe his ears. “Yes’’ he cried instantly, least the woman should change her mind. “But madamji…!” the watchman standing nearby said to her expatriated. “Yes Ramoji?” she looked at him calmly and he lowered his head. This was an important lady, the flag-seller realized. “Come,” she smiled at him and he ran behind her inside the school. The school. He could not believe his eyes; he was seeing it from inside of the gate. He knew the building was huge, but this huge…? He walked behind her to a neat row of chairs at the back side of the ground. Before him, in rows, stood the students with there back to him and in front of them was an elevated platform- the stage of Independence Day celebration. “Sit down.” The women said. She had already taken a seat and she pointed beside her. He climbed on the seat nervously. The woman was really very famous as each and every person on the ground was coming to meet her. Many of them were surprised to see him sitting there. This increased his nervousness. When some of them asked her about him she just said, “This is my young friend here.” No further questions were asked. “Everybody please stand up.” There was an announcement from some were and the flag seller sprang to his feet. He had heard that announcement twice before. He knew what it meant. It was time. What happened after that was a dream comes true for him. The knot of a cloth, that he knew was the national flag, rising on the pole….the flowers falling down and the flag waving proudly with the wind in full glory…the slow heart pounding beats of the national anthem played by the band…the silence of independence…..the sweet and soft tune of vande matarm song thereafter …the brave slogan of “Bharat Mata ki jai!”….All this was overwhelming for the flag-seller and he lost himself in the atmosphere. The woman was silently observing the boy standing beside her. She knew that by bringing him inside she had given him the biggest gift he could ask for. The way he stood stick straight during the national anthem could have made an officer proud. The vigor with which he saluted the flag in his own fashion was more than that of the whole bunch of people standing lazily around her. He sang the “vande mataram” with the students and how he sang it! There was such love and sincerity in his voice that she was literally moved. He was now jumping up and down clapping with the students as the songs ended. Then he climbed on his seat beside her when a dignitary started his much rehearsed speech. “Madamji” he whispered to her. “Yes?” she asked leaning towards him. “How much do you think will it cost to study here?” he asked She was surprised by his query and looking at his serious face she knew he wasn’t joking. “You like this school?” She asked him fondly. “Yes!” his face lit up,” It’s so big with really nice people. Sonu will be very happy to study here. And I can come inside, every independency day…” “Sonu?” she was confused, “who is Sonu?” She had thought… “Sonu is my younger brother.” The flag-seller replied proudly, "he is very intelligent." “So you are two brothers?” She asked. “Two brothers and two sisters” he said. “Menu and Alka are twins but they are too small to go to school, then there is my mother and me. That's my family. Our Sonu is very clever. He can already do big calculations on his hands, you know?” he went on.“Really?” She asked him innocently. No father, she noted. “But don’t you want to study here?” “Me?” he was shocked and she knew that he had never even dreamt of this possibility. “What do I need to study for?” “You don’t study?” Why wasn’t she surprised? “Of course not." he said vehemently.” I am the elder son of my family. I can’t waste my time studying. I work, that's how I can fulfill my responsibility.” “Where do you work?” She asked him. “At the,” he stopped suddenly and looked at her apprehensively, “You are not one of those samajwala people, are you?" He asked her. “Samajwala?” She asked him innocently though she knew what he meant was Samaj Sevak, the social workers. And yes she was one of them. He leaned towards have conspiratorially, “The samajwala are very cruel people. They don’t want poor boys like me to survive. So whenever they see some of us working with dayalu people like Malikbhai, they close his shop and send him to jail and make sure that nobody gives us work again so that we starve to our death.” “O my god…” words escaped involuntarily from her mouth. So this was what that scoundrel Malik was telling these innocent kids about her, she thought. “Yes” The flag seller nodded,” but you can’t be the samajwala. You are very good and kind, not cruel like them. So I will tell you that I work at malikbhai's tea stall in Sadar.” He smiled. “If you come there, I will serve you our special chai.” “Of course, of course," she said fighting back her tears. It was only six month ago that she had raided that shop and freed eight child labours from there. It was all futile, she realized now. The demon was back in business with a new batch of slaves. She took out a note pad and pen from her purse, “can your mother read?” she asked him. “Yes!” he said proudly. “She had passed her matter…matron…matriculation, you know?” he asked her dazed. “Good." she admired. She then wrote something on the paper and handed it to the flag seller. “What is this?” he asked staring at the unintelligible piece of paper in his hand. “My name, address and phone number as well as some instructions.” she said," tell your mother to come and meet me in the evening, maybe we can arranged something for your brother." “You can?” the flag-seller jumped on the ground and stood before her dumb fold. “This is not a prank, is it?” He challenged her.“I give you my word” she said honestly and smiled. “By the way you must come with her.”“Me?” he asked, “why?” “Don’t you think an elder person should be present with her at the meeting?” she smiled.“Of course” he said “I shall come.” then he looked around, “I want to go now.” He said, “Thank you madamji, for your help,” he turned and stopped and turned around again but didn’t look at her..“What is it?” she asked him concerned. “Can I have one of those?” he asked her shyly, still looking down. “What?” she asked. He pointed toward the students. A man was distributing sweets among them. “Of course.” she said and went to the man. She came back and gave him two packets of sweet. “Happy..?” she smiled.“Yes!” he cried joyously, keeping the packets in his shirt pocket, “Menu and Alka will be very happy to have these.” He then jump and walk away happily as the woman looked at him in wonder. A silent tear at last succeeded to trickle form her eyes. She then realized that she had forgotten to ask him his name. But that did not matter. She will find him anyway, she knew where he worked, and if his mother didn't come, then she will search the whole city for him. He was one fine gem that she could not afford to loose in the gutter of child slavery. On this Independence Day she was determined to give independence to at least this one family. “O jhandewale..!” somebody shouted and the flag seller ran towards the sound singing happily, “Vande Mataram.”