Have Not

 It is the same story every morning, with a fresh realisation about a lack of some kind. Today it was not his mother saying that the rice is over so she will not be able to pack lunch, or his sister furtively asking if he could spare a few bucks, or even his father embarrassingly pointing at his empty shirt pocket indicating he was out of cigarettes. These demands he could indulge, they were placed with the right amount of platitude and guilt that would make him feel that without his generosity this household would simply fall apart. 

Today it was his brother. There was something really vile about a fifteen year old boy creating a scene. It could not be neglected due to his gruff and still forming voice that would alternatively be high pitched and heavy. It could not be ignored as a tantrum of a child either. His brother Munna was an otherwise quiet child. He remembered how they used to play catch with a tattered tennis ball in the lane in front of their house just a few years ago. But this was not child, this was a man, sitting on the plastic red stool that stood beside the door and putting on his shoe. He held up his left shoe and waved it towards their father

"Look at this, do you expect me to go out wearing this?"

The pasting of the shoe's body and the sole had come apart. A twenty buck job at the roadside cobbler should do the job, thought Bablu, still sprawled across his bed. He tried to draw the sheet over his head to block out the morning sun and Munna's voice. He agreed that the shoe was in bad shape, but there was no sense in shouting about it now. Bablu had returned late last night as he always does and he needed his sleep before the delivery rush of the lunch time starts. 

As he lay in the bed thinking if he could squeeze in a couple of more hours to get some overtime, he could hear voices being raised in the other part of the room, not that it was a large room that he could not hear them clear as crystal. Mother got up from the other end of the room which doubled up as the kitchen and entreated father and son to keep their voices low. 

"Munna, we will do something about this. Wear your father's sandal and go today."

Munna happily left his shoes, and took off wearing father's sandals. Father was just going to mumble something in between sipping his chai, when mother glowered, "it's not like you are going anywhere"

As Bablu sat up, he could see his father shrink away just like an insect cowers when someone prods at it with a twig. Still groggy, he squinted to see his mother again settling on the floor with her knife and vegetables. His father used to drive an auto, but his license had been suspended by the police, when he was caught drunk for the third time. Mother was not pleased with this. It is not like father used to be a really busy driver, he would hardly have a few rides in a day, but at least he was out of her sight. Now he used to sit in the corner and order unlimited cups of chai through the day. It is not like Bablu was mighty pleased with his father either. He knew the state of the house, he knew about the expenses, still he has to be unreasonable. When does this end?

Maybe he should get ready and start his deliveries since morning? Asif was telling him a lot of people order food for breakfast as well and that's a busy time. Bablu had been working as a food delivery boy for the past year and he had been doing pretty well. He was more than happy to fill in during the graveyard shift and that allowed him to make a few extra bucks. If he had not started in this line of work, he would never know about all these different kinds of food that people eat. Dosa, Falafel, Momo, Sushi - the list was endless. Since Bablu had a two wheeler that he could drive really fast even in peak traffic, he was a popular guy. His manager Swami said if he continued this way, he could go to the top, and he knew he would. He was not meant to spend his life in this one room with his parents and two siblings forever. 

His sister was already working in a hospital in the reception since the last two months. She had already left for work and would be back by evening. She was a diligent girl and he knew she would do well. Even Munna for all his whining was turning out to be a dependable chap. He was in college and would finish up in another year. the pressures were different for him and Bablu understood that. Kids that age can be cruel and walking into a place of study with a torn shoe might have been embarrassing for him. 

Mother gave him some breakfast that he thankfully polished off and got ready to go for work. 

"Are you leaving already?" she enquired. 

"Yes Ma, I think I will do some overtime today. I will get a pair of sandals for Munna on the way back."

She went to the other side of the room and picked up the shoes that Munna had mercilessly discarded. 

"These still have some life left, I will take this to the cobbler. Don't waste money."

Bablu smiled as he put on the uniform, his bright red t-shirt which his mother had cleaned and ironed for him. No matter how late he would come back at night, every morning he would find his clothes laundered to perfection. This is what he loved about this small rickety existence of his, it was small but never shabby. 

He hopped on his two-wheeler and sped away. The usual orders of breakfast time started trickling in. He picked deliveries and zoomed through traffic to reach his destinations. After the breakfast rush subsided a little, he drove to the regular tea stall where he and his buddies caught up through the day. Chandru was already there, in some deep discussion with two other fellows. Bablu collected his ten rupee paper cup filled with steaming hot sugary tea and joined them. 

He was happy with the work he put in this morning, this was sure to earn him a few extra bucks today. While the others discussed about the latest movie or some such nonsense, Bablu was busy preparing for the rest of the day. There was new shop near the railway station, they have a very good collection of shoes. Last weekend when Munna and he had gone out, he recalled standing at the window and admiring one. While Bablu was an avid fan of shoes with laces, Munna loved those slip on kind of shoes. there was one particularly nice pari that appeared to be made of plastic, but Munna told him they are called Crocs and apparently they were all the rage these days. Bablu did not understand the appeal of these but if Munna liked them he would try and get them for him. 

He was brought back to his senses as his phone buzzed. Delivery order for a pizza. Two boxes and some garlic bread and Coke. Someone is having a party on a Wednesday afternoon. Good for him. He whizzed to the pizza shop and waited to collect the order. He quickly loaded it on his bike and informed his customer that he was on the way. As he was driving to the destination, he got a call from the customer. 

"Hello!"

"Hello madam" he said with the most polite tone he could conjure as he dodged being hit by an SUV. 

"Bhaiya, Pizza delivery?"

This is what got his goat, he knew that when a customer got his number, they got his name as well. Why can't they ever call him and say "hello, is this Bablu?"

When he shared this with Chandru sometime back, he almost doubled up laughing. 

"We are all the same to them, you, me and few days later even Munna - Pizza, Dosa or Momo - that's all that we are."

As he thought about this again and the pain and shame of his existence washed over him as clear and real as the ashen smoke emanating from the school bus in front of him, the madam on the other end asked him to leave the pizza at the door and not ring the bell. Sure thing, he was happy to comply. In a few minutes, he reached the gate. This was the large apartment complex at the end of the road. He comes here very often, sometimes with multiple orders. He wonders if these people ever cook at home, but does not waste too much time thinking about it as this makes him his money. The security guards know him too. He opens his helmet and smiles at Suren who is sitting under an umbrella trying to protect himself from the scorching sun and catching a nap. He flashes the code which will allow him entry, but Suren seems to be in a lazy mood today and simply nods his head to let him know he can pass. Bablu parks his bike and takes the lift to the sixth floor and gets the door immediately. 

It is a party indeed! He needs to wade through a sea of footwear to get to the door. He stops looking around, wondering where he should place the pizza box. There is a shoe box by the door and he finally places the boxes on top. The Coke bottle rolls over and falls on the floor. 

"Shit!"

He mutters inadvertently. He can see the fizz forming inside the bottle. He carefully picks it up and places it on the shoe box again. It was somewhere in this entire time that Bablu first sees it and then no matter what, he cannot unsee it. There it was right beside the shoebox, a shiny, blue pair of Crocs. They were so pristine it seemed like they had been never worn. In those flashy corridor lights they looked even more stunning than they looked in the window of the shop near the railway station. He was not aware how or when it happened, but he extended his arm to touch them. His fingers quivered as he first touched them. They might have looked like hard plastic, but they were actually quite soft to touch. Oh how wonderfully comfortable would they be to wear he wondered. He looked around, no one was there, it would not hurt to just see how it feels. He opened his dusty pair of shoes and tried them on. How ugly his earthy, bare feet looked in those shoes. He was suddenly overcome with a deep disgust for himself. He took them off as quickly as he had worn them. It was as if the entire gathering of footwear - the Crocs, the sneakers, the ten other pairs whose names he had never heard were all looking at him and laughing. He pressed the button to summon the elevator but kept looking at the spread of shoes. 

How casually they were strewn around, he wondered, would they even notice if one goes missing. Clearly Munna needed this more than anyone of those pasty faced Pizza eating little babies beyond this door. As if an invisible hand pulled him, the elevator came and the doors opened. It was vacant. He did not take it, he went back and picked the blue Crocs. He held it close to his chest as if caressing a child. He took the stairs, roughly shoving the pair inside his jacket. How happy would Munna be to see this tonight! Hell with the rest of the day, he would go back home immediately. He wanted to see the look on Munna's face when he walks in and sees this shining near the door. After two flights of stairs, something happened and Bablu could not breathe anymore. What would he tell him when he asks me where I got it from? What would he tell mother? With father, she was just annoyed, to find out he stole would break her heart. He had made it to the ground floor and past the security fellow, but could not go further. He could not leave with this, but there was no excuse for him to go back either. Suddenly the import of the moment dawned upon him. He sat on his bike and went towards the exit gate. Suren was still dreaming under his umbrella. Bablu thrust the pair in his hands and left without a word.

Later, when they saw the CCTV footage, they saw this delivery guy walking to and from the corridor, trying out the shoe. The security in-charge told the madam of the sixth floor, you can complain with the company. 

In the other part of town, Bablu sighed and went to the shop near the railway station.