That evening, Ram sat at the dining table, his gaze fixed on his plate, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts. The stark reality of Ali's neighborhood and the desperate poverty he had witnessed weighed heavily on his mind. Aunt Maya, perceptive as ever, noticed his distant demeanor.
"What's troubling you, Ram?" she asked softly, studying his face.
Ram hesitated, gathering his thoughts. "How does the government actually work?" he asked, looking up. "In the books Uncle James gave me, the system seems perfect—flawless in its design to manage a country. But on the ground level, it's a completely different story."
Maya offered a knowing, slightly weary smile. "The problem isn't the system, Ram. The main issue lies within the people."
"Which people?" Ram pressed.
"Both," she explained gently. "Those who rule, and those who choose the rulers. The corrupt leaders who do wrong are put into power by the masses. People often cast their votes not based on a candidate's ability or qualification, but for petty offerings, caste allegiances, and other senseless reasons." She paused, her tone turning grave. "That doesn't give the rulers the right to commit wrongs, but you can say that normal people bear responsibility too. Their greed, their—"
She stopped abruptly, noticing the intense, dark shift in Ram's expression. "So, what is the reason behind all these questions?"
Ram blinked, his expression quickly smoothing over. "It's nothing," he murmured.
Maya didn't push. Instead, a quiet smile touched her lips. After years of living in the wild, surrounded by simple-minded people and animals, she thought, he is finally beginning to understand true, complex human nature. This will do wonders for the growth of his mind.
The following morning, the rhythmic sound of steady breathing filled Ram's room as he completed a grueling set of pull-ups. Under the morning light, the movement highlighted a physique that was a testament to years of rigorous jungle training—perhaps the most beautiful and perfect physical form a human could achieve.
His workout was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. It was Geeta calling. Before he could answer, Aunt Maya hurried into the room, her expression urgent.
"Ram, I'm in a rush—I have some urgent work to attend to," she said, placing a few crisp banknotes on the table. "Here is some money. Please buy yourself some breakfast on the way to college." With that, she quickly left the house.
Ram remembered the conversation from the previous day; Ali's grandmother ran a small food stall. He answered Geeta's call and invited her to join him for breakfast there.
When they arrived, the food stall was modest—smaller than the neighboring carts—but it radiated warmth. Ali's grandmother stood behind the counter, her face breaking into a radiant, welcoming smile at the sight of them. She joyfully ushered them to sit and offered them food.
Geeta hesitated, raising a polite hand. "Oh, I've already eaten, thank you," she said. "But Ram hasn't had breakfast yet. Please, feed him."
The grandmother happily agreed, serving Ram a hearty, delicious portion. Just then, Ali arrived. His eyes lit up with genuine joy at the sight of his friends sitting at his grandmother's stall. He greeted them warmly.
"It makes me so happy to see Ali with such wonderful friends," his grandmother beamed, looking between Ram and Geeta. "And so handsome and beautiful, too. Please, promise me you'll take care of Ali."
Ram nodded earnestly. "We will."
When they finished and Ram tried to hand over the money Aunt Maya had given him, the grandmother immediately pushed his hand away, absolutely refusing to take a single rupee from her grandson's friends. Ali looked slightly displeased, hyper-aware of his family's precarious financial situation, but his joy at having his friends there outweighed his pride. They bid their farewells and walked away.
Moments later, as the grandmother turned back to the cash counter, she noticed a neatly folded stack of bills tucked away. A wide, surprised smile spread across her face as she realized Ram had secretly left the money behind.
Ram, Geeta, and Ali made their way to the Dadar Railway Station. As they stepped onto the platform, Ram stopped dead in his tracks, thoroughly shocked by the sheer volume of humanity. The station was a chaotic sea of rushing bodies.
A local train roared into the station, squealing to a halt. In an instant, the crowd surged forward. The compartments were immediately filled over capacity, to the point where men were hanging out of the open doors, clinging to support handles with just their fingertips, risking their lives as the train prepared to move.
Geeta watched Ram's stunned expression. "This is the life of the best city in India," she said, her voice tinged with melancholic irony. "Every single day, people risk their lives and do grueling hard work just to live a normal life."
Ram stood silent, comparing the serene, self-sufficient lifestyle he had known in the jungle to the desperate, dangerous struggle unfolding before his eyes. Is there a solution to all of this, or not? he wondered.
As they waited, Geeta and Ali took the opportunity to explain the intricacies of the railway system and the station announcements to Ram, ensuring that if he ever needed to ride the train alone, he would know how. When their train finally arrived, the three of them plunged into the fray. With a considerable struggle, they managed to push through the crowd, secure seats, and ride the train all the way to Churchgate.
Stepping out of the station, they hailed an auto-rickshaw to cover the remaining distance to the college. As the auto wove through the bustling streets, Ram stared out the open side, captivated and unsettled by the true image of Mumbai's livelihoods. Throughout the route, he witnessed two drastically different sides of the city. On one side stood towering, luxurious structures that rivaled the best cities in the world. Yet, just a glance away, he saw desperately poor, degraded neighborhoods—places of such profound deprivation that words could scarcely explain them.