Down the memory lane wondering how time passes so fast, I woke up today in our small cottage so lovingly made for me and my wife by my dear daughter. I went back in time to those days when I was in my early twenties. I lived then in a small room much smaller than our present cottage, devoid of all amenities. I was a bachelor then, just out of college, starting my first job as a veterinary doctor and was posted at a small village called Badarwas in MP, India in a block development office established for rural development.
There was no electricity there in those days. We had generators for our offices which were run for a few hours. No housing for us and so I and my staff had to hunt for one in that cluster of mostly huts made out of mud, straw and such things covered with roof of typical country made tiles as protection from sun and rain!
But lucky me, I found this small 10 feet by 10 feet room made out of brick and mortar for a pricey rent of Rs 12/- per month. I took it promptly lest some other guy snatches it. It was just right for me. My status also went up in the eyes of my staff if I may say so, believe me!
Located right next to a small road side dhaba, it was also at the so called bus stand where the only single bus coming from Gwalior, a big town hundred miles away, would be parked for the night. It would return next morning to Gwalior and then back to Badarwas in the evening. The driver and the conductor of the bus slept in the bus for the night and soon became my friends. I would often ask them to get some fancy non veg dish like chicken tandoor from Gwalior and then invite them to my room to share the same.
The dhaba was run by a man who was dark, with a big moustache and rather mysterious eyes. Looked scary to many who suspected that he had a 'past'! The dhaba and the owner looked rather spooky in the night in the shadows cast by a solitary petromax light. He did not speak much, but I had no problem with him. Many times in the evenings, he would send across my dinner to my room with his assistant. His main evening sweet dish was thick kheer made out of rice and milk. Very delicious! I was his most regular and privileged customer. His other clientele consisted mostly of drivers of trucks passing by. Personally, under the circumstances, life was pretty satisfying for me!
And then, one fine day after the bus had left early morning for Gwalior, I stepped out to go to my office, I noticed that the ramshackle dhaba looked rather deserted. There was no activity going on. I decided to wait and watch. In the evening, I returned to my room and soon after, the bus arrived from Gwalior. It was dusk. Still there was no activity in the dhaba and no dinner for me!
I stepped out in the dark and called the driver-conductor duo of the bus who were getting ready to have their own pack dinners. I spoke to them about this dhaba guy. The driver was surprised. 'Sir, you do not know? He went away to Gwalior bag and baggage. He travelled in our bus only, carrying his meagre stuff. He did not say much. But we suspect that the law had caught up with him. He was running away!'
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