Choices

CHAPTER | 23

A young boy of age twelve waved the newspaper in his hand fluttering the pages as the vehicles zoomed past him. He dodged the running vehicles like a pro as he got hold of potential customers trying to coax them into buying.

He seemed to have a cheerful face for a guy who was on foot for almost two hours straight. There was no sign of any complaints or even a frown on the young man's face. It almost seemed as if he feared to showcase them, for no one would want to buy anything from a grumpy kid.

The boy ran past an autorickshaw to a taxi driver, pleading him to buy a newspaper which held all the wonders of yesterday giving in a hope for tomorrow. When the taxi driver was satisfied with the bargain, the boy clutched the few rupees he had earned and carefully pocketed them before running the other way round with the same woven story.

Just as he was about to cross the road towards a woman waiting at the bus stop, a red Yamaha seemed to dive directly at him. Scared and shocked at the same time, the boy seemed to have forgotten what movement was like; for he was frozen on the spot waiting for his fate to make decisions for him. As the vehicle approached in front of him, he closed his eyes, not able to witness his troubled future.

The screeching of the tires was the first thing that the boy had heard and a loud gasp of a woman somewhere nearby. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see a man with wide eyes which reciprocated the child's internal turmoil's. The man's hands were clutching the breaks tightly lifting up the back wheel which now rotated in the air.

"Oh, my God!" The man breathed. "Are you blind? Can't you see where you are going?"

The boy seemed to have gotten his breath back. He wiped the thin sheath of sweat on his forehead and leaned forward on the bike for support. After taking two lungs full of dust filled air, he looked to have calmed down.

"Are you okay, kid?" The biker asked. "I know the vehicle didn't touch you, but are you hurt?"

By then, a small circle of men and women had gathered around them, no one making an attempt to reach for the kid who was in shock. They just watched the conversations, ready for an entertainment if the boy was taking things in a different way. They weren't uncommon anyway. If the boy was smart, he would scream, shout and demand hand-full of money from the biker as compensation for driving past him even when the signal was green.

But the boy didn't do anything as such. He just nodded his head. He slowly lifted his head to see the guy who had almost plucked his heart out. Now, with a clear mind, without the shocks, the biker seemed familiar.

Olive skin tone, a handsome face and a gentle heart. The boy never forgot a face – especially when someone engaged him in a conversation.

"You..." The boy stuttered pointing a finger at him, trying to recall where he had seen him. "You are the one who writes articles, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but how did you... ah, you sold me a paper once, isn't it?" Vijay smiled at the boy. "What was your name again, Bhadra?"

"Bantu." The boy smiled. "You shouldn't be driving this fast."

Vijay couldn't help but snort. "And you should be running across in full speed while the signal is green, isn't it?"

Sheepishly, Bantu ran his right hand over his hair while clutching the unsold papers on his left hand. He looked around only to see people watching them in wonder. Obviously, they hadn't seen this coming.

"Okay," Bantu drawled waving his hands at the spectators, rolling his eyes. "Show's over. You can all go now. Nothing has happened to me. Come on, move it."

Vijay shook his head with a smile. There he was still in a trance of the whole ordeal, while a small kid was able to move crowds. It was wonderful watching it. Just as he was about to make a comment at the kid, a familiar voice floated by.