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Twenty-two years ago
KARTAVYA
Seven years old
Somewhere in Jharkhand. At a coal mine field
Five-year-old Kartavya was standing in the long queue at the onset of pre-dusk. His whole body was sore, coal dust mixed with sweat causing it to stick to his face along with his hands which were dusty black and his feet rough, bloodied and adorned with little cuts marking his pale soft skin underneath, were in a pair worn out slippers which were a size or too big. He along with other miners was waiting for food, after a long day of manual labor, which was a piece of bread and slurry. Kartavya caught the sight of a mother feeding her child and he wondered whether his mother would also feed him with so much warmth and affection if she saw him in this state. He had no past which was known to him and all he could remember from his memory was the day he woke up in the mining area.
Kartavya's chain of thought broke due to a sudden stampede before he could process an old man with ashen face shook him by his small boney shoulders and spoke,
'Hurry child! the quantity of food is short today as well, hurry and grab yourself a meal before the remaining bread rolls are finished or else there would be no food for you tonight'
Kartavya recognized him from working alongside him in the mining site, the quantity of food being left short here was a recurring event. He too started to run towards the back of the food supply truck-pushing, pulling people out of the way-just to have that rustic roll of bread and after a lot of struggle he managed to reach the opening of the truck and grasp bread the distributor was offering. Prior to he could even unwrap the paper off, it was snatched by another miner, he lost the sight of the snatcher in the stampede.
Kartavya stood in the middle of the ground, stuck, the talks and noise of the stampede a mere hum ringing in his ears. Suddenly a bread roll came in front of his eyes it was same old man from earlier, he said 'take it'.
But it's yours' -
'I might want it son, but you need it more, you have a whole lifetime ahead to survive here-I maybe be alive today-tomorrow maybe not. That's the certainty of the life of people like us. I lived and worked my whole life here and my soul will be put to rest here, same as everyone. No one can escape this cycle.. take it you can't work empty stomach or else you will end up being sick '
'NO-I will escape from here. My maa and baba will come and get me-' Kartavya retorted.
The old man laughed maniacally -'oh child why will your maa, baba come to rescue you when they were the ones to give you in the hands of these monsters'
He returned the bread roll back and took off running amongst the hustle and bustle of people. Tears prickled Kartavya's eyes, and he blinked rapidly for he was afraid, from whom he did not know, to show how much affected he was by the old man's words. He could not succumb his seven-year-old self into believing that the old man was probably right, and he was indeed abandoned. But he mustered enough strength to keep hold of his only hope, his only light in this deep pit of hell that he had roots- somewhere and he would find it eventually.
At night he was thankful that he did not eat the bread roll, or else sleep would come easily to him with a full stomach and he would not be able to stay wide awake yet another night to stare at the gate wearing his work vest with no. 61 printed on it so that his maa and baba would recognize him when they come through it without any difficulty despite his filthy clothing and coal dust clad face. He simply refused to accept that it was his destiny to die here, for he was certain of one thing in this dynamic world that he would write his own. He made it this far not for nothing.
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