The cold night, the crawling rats, the blanket of dark sky dotted with twinkling stars, the hardness of the park bench, I did not have to close my eyes, I was living a nightmare. The days were spent scavenging and begging for food. The search for a job was futile. I thought of memsahib all the time. I was extremely hungry. I was angry all the time. I wanted nourishment. I also had a fever. Everytime I passed by the bakery I would look at the hot white loaf of bread, with light brown bottoms, staring at me with goggle-eyes. They looked scrumptious. They were kept on the counter, in the front of the bakery to attract people with money. My hunger and fever got the better of me. I could no longer withstand the charms of the processed wheat flour dough. I sneaked one loaf, I turned back with an awkward moment. A seasoned thief would have stolen the bread in one swift singular motion, like a hawk going after its prey. I being a rookie, commited the crime in a set of disjoint moments, which was spotted by the shop owner. I started running, but being hungry and sick did not help. I was caught and taken to the nearby police station.
The police station was quite large, I was taken to the head constable. He looked like a furious man. I did not have to steal a loaf of bread to make him furious. His face looked naturally furious. I was afraid, he gave me a look of disappointment. I was still looking at the roof over my head. It had been three weeks since I had a roof over my head. A snap of fingers by the head constable got me back to reality. Then the yelling started, it was piercing my ears like little pins of shreik. I could not run from this. Once the yelling subsided, I was sure I was going to be thrown in jail. The Head Constable said he was letting me go with a warning. I was overjoyed. After all the joy gushed out, I realised it was back to the hunger and scavenging. The happiness was so brief. I realised if I was in jail, I would have food, a place to stay, company. Alas! I had been freed with a warning. Before leaving Daroga Saheb (Head Constable) asked me for my address. I told him I was homeless, but I always go to the library in the daytime. Daroga Saheb kept looking at me through his telescopic glasses with twitchy eyes. I felt he had a condition with his eyes, but the twitching was intermittent.
I got out of the police station and back onto the streets. I was still hungry, I decided to beg at a traffic signal rather than bring forth the ire of Daroga Saheb. Those twitchy eyes, the frowny face still gave me the chills. I tried a couple of times to go to a studio and try my luck. They asked me to leave, thinking I am a beggar. When I persisted, they threatened to call the cops. A few days went by, my bollywood dream began dwindling. I was seeing “The End” before my movie began. I started thinking of going back to Memsahib, she would forgive me and take me back. I started begging and saving money to buy tickets to go home. I was returning to my palace. I was going to run from Bollywood.
The days went by I was getting good at begging. I knew the right times , the patterns , the kind of people who were willing to part with their money to help the unfortunate. I needed to beg for another week to be able to save money to buy my return tickets. I continued going to the library daily after the morning rush hour. The books helped me escape, I was able to float out of my current state and imagine being in a world created by the author. I was sitting with my book on a corner chair hidden from the view of people. I felt safe. The librarian was a good natured lady who liked me. She helped me pick my books, my adventures. She did not judge me by my appearance. I was glad. I hoped everyone in the world were as kind as her and memsahib. I was sitting in my chair lost in the fantasy world when suddenly I heard footsteps coming towards me. I assumed it must be the librarian, so I continued reading my book, the footsteps stopped in front of me, I raised my eyes a little, it was not the librarian. They were size 10 brown polished shoes, I was afraid to look, I had seen those shoes before, I had seen them at the police station. Those shoes belonged to the frowny faced, twitchy eyed Daroga Sahib. I tried recalling if I had done anything wrong. I immediately fell at his feet and started apologizing for any wrong I had commited. He asked me to stand up, looked at me, gave me a C-shaped smile and told me to calm down. If I had not done anything wrong why did the Daroga Sahib come to the library for. I was confused. He asked me to come out with him. I walked beside him. The library door opened, we were back into the day, the sun was shining hard. I saw a beautiful black Jaguar standing outside. Daroga Sahib pointed me towards the car and told me something that got me thinking of a million possibilities in a fraction of second. Our brain processes things so fast. An entire lifetime of imagination can be compressed into a snap of second, I could be living in a large palace, bathe in a sauna, star in my own movie, have a Bollywood Ending. The words that came out of Daroga Sahib’s mouth were “He’s your Father”. After the moment of extravagance, reality set in. An old man with furry grey brow, a sharp moustache, partially wrinkled forehead, white uniform and a white cap steps out of the Jaguar. He was my Dad. I forgot about Bollywood, I forgot about the palace, the sauna. A strange feeling of happiness gushed in, seemed like my run was complete. I was still clueless, but I rushed forward and hugged him, he did not mind my dirty clothes. He hugged me as if he did not want to let me go. There were tears rolling down his eyes. He kept apologizing, I said it was ok. I felt a sense of completeness.
My dad narrated to me the flashback. I was a naughty kid, my parents were travelling from Mumbai to our village, my parents were sleeping, when I got of the bus, the bus left and I was left stranded in an unknown place. My father kept coming to the police station everyday and showed Daroga Sahib my photo. I now realised why the Daroga Sahib kept twitching his eyes when he looked at me. This was better than a Bollywood ending. My run had finally stopped, I was home. I had reached the end of the Road. It was time to rest.
The End
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