A Fistful of Rupees (standard:drama, 8090 words)
Author: Vinod Lalji	Added: Nov 24 2021	Views/Reads: 876/538	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A day in the life of a Rickshaw driver

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

off-white shirt. 

‘Fine, just go I don't have time to argue.' 

Arjun bit his lower lip. Now he had no choice but to go to the Burning
Ghats and revisit the spot where not long ago his older sister had 
perished. 

‘What are you waiting for boy, go now and make it fast, I don't have
time to waste!' he barked. 

Arjun nodded and pushed the pedals on the rickshaw, teasing himself into
the traffic through a narrow gap. Someone honked a horn behind him but 
he had become immune to the daily cacophony. The rickshaw joined the 
maelstrom. At least in this direction the traffic was not so bad, he 
thought and stood up and pushed the pedals as hard as his eleven years 
old legs could push them. It started to gain momentum and moved faster. 
He looked ahead and spotted gaps in the traffic which he ruthlessly 
exploited and soon left the main road behind. Using the narrow side 
streets where cars were unable to follow him, Arjun raced forward to 
his final destination. 

‘Go quicker boy, I'm not paying you by the hour.' 

Arjun pushed harder, his legs were becoming exhausted and his back was
beginning to ache. The dark alleys were cool at least, the high sun 
unable to penetrate to the dirt tracks. Small mercies, he thought. 

The man was clutching his briefcase tightly to his chest. Arjun looked
at him from the corner of his eye. With a worried look on his face the 
man kept looking at his watch every few minutes and grunting. 

‘Go faster or I won't pay you,' snarled the man as he caught Arjun
peeping at him. 

‘Uncle I'm peddling as fast as I can,' panted Arjun. 

‘Is you're mother not feeding you properly or what, you can go faster,
lazy brute.' 

Arjun slammed the brakes on the handle bars. The rickshaw skidded a few
feet and came to an abrupt stop. The dust swirled around them. The man 
was thrown forward. He banged his head against the overhead rail and 
screamed. His briefcase went flying from his hands and cracked opened 
spilling its contents. Small brown paper packets flew onto the floor of 
the rickshaw and out onto the alley. 

‘What did you do that for?' he shouted and rubbed his head, nursing a
bruise. He began frantically collecting the small packets and shoving 
them into the briefcase and pockets before the street kids had noticed. 
He jumped off the rickshaw and grabbed the dust covered packets that 
had dropped onto the alley. He hastily looked around making sure he 
hadn't missed any and then climbed back aboard. 

‘Go; go I need to get there before its too late.' 

Arjun settled himself in the seat, unmoved. ‘Get out,' said Arjun
calmly. The man looked startled. Never before in his life had an eleven 
year old been so rude to him, especially one who looked as poor and 
scrawny as this one. 

‘What did you say?' 

‘I said get out,' replied Arjun as he wiped the sweat from his brow. 

The man didn't move. He looked up and down the alley, it was mostly
deserted. He tried to figure out where he was in relation to where he 
needed to be and couldn't. His anger flared up and he shouted, ‘how 
dare you say that you filthy pig, I need to get to the Ghats urgently, 
get me there now.' Suddenly he grabbed Arjun by his shirt and pulled 
him forward nearly knocking him off his bicycle seat. Arjun felt his 
breath quicken, this wasn't the first time an adult had tried to attack 
him on the streets. He snapped his palms against the man's hand and 
pushed him away. A button from his already weather beaten shirt flew 
off and landed in the dust. 

They both looked at each other for a few seconds. Arjun didn't break eye
contact; he knew from past experience that if he did he was done for. 
Although the man looked thin and wiry, he was strong and could probably 
hurt him seriously. He didn't want to become one of the corpses 
destined for the Burning Ghats. What would become of my mother and 
little sister? 

‘Walk, Shiva has given you two good feet,' said Arjun. 

The man snarled at him, but he was a tough kid. He'd driven the rickshaw
around the streets of Varanasi for the last year or so. It wasn't the 
first time someone had gotten physical with him. The man shook his head 
and without paying ran down the alley. 

Arjun released a withheld breath and pushed his long hair out of his
eyes. He waited and watched the man run away before he climbed down 
from his seat and walk to where he thought his button might have 
fallen. He started searching for it. 

A Sadhu, an Indian holy man walked into his path. He was dressed from
head to toe in bright orange robes and his hair was matted into a 
turban on his head. ‘Om Namah Shiva,' he chanted and smiled at Arjun. 
The boy looked up from the dirty alley and returned the smile. ‘What 
are you looking for my son?' 

‘Nothing O' Holy baba,' replied Arjun and climbed back onto the
rickshaw. 

‘Everyone is looking for something, but not everyone is looking in the
right direction for the right length of time.' The holy man bent low 
and picked up his button and handed it back to Arjun. 

‘Thank you,' said Arjun, he could have sworn he had just looked where
the baba had found his button. He carefully placed the button inside 
his shirt pocket. 

‘In the Lord's name please give me some rupees,' he said. 

Arjun shook his head. He knew better than give money to holy men. His
mother had warned him enough times. ‘I will not give you a rupee baba, 
but I can drop you off somewhere and you are welcome to share my 
lunch.' 

‘May Shiva bless you my son,' he said and with a smile he walked off. 

Arjun bowed and stood up on the pedals to get the momentum going. He
rode slowly, having no passengers meant conserving his energy, but the 
ride cleared his head from the thoughts of the rude man. Never take 
things personally, his mother had taught him. 

After a long day Arjun returned to the depot and parked his rickshaw in
his spot and climbed out. It had been a gruelling twelve hours shift. 
‘Hi Ram uncle,' he said. 

The man in the rickshaw next to him looked up from his cleaning and gave
Arjun a toothless smile, ‘Hi son.' 

‘How was your day uncle?' 

‘Tiring, my body cannot take this anymore Arjun.' 

Arjun walked over to his rickshaw and took the rag from him and began to
clear away the dust from the day's travels. ‘Oh son you don't have to 
do that.' 

Arjun simply grinned, ‘It's my pleasure.' 

The old man who was pushing sixty, with a thick head of grey hair sat
down with a groan. ‘You should be at school, not driving these 
rickshaws.' He started to mix chewing tobacco with lime in his palms, 
taking his time to rub the toxic ingredients into a sticky wad before 
placing it into his mouth. 

Arjun paused before replying, ‘the city is my campus uncle, and the
passengers my professors. Why only today I learned an important 
lesson.' 

‘You always have a clever answer,' chuckled the man, ‘well you can
always teach me what you've learned, my papa never let me go to school. 
Come to think of it I don't believe we even had a school in our 
village.' 

‘A man today gave me an opportunity to resist without getting angry,
just like our great nations father, Gandhiji.' 

‘You were practising civil disobedience?' laughed the old man and spat
out a gob of red spittle into the gutter. 

Arjun laughed with him, ‘yeah, I think so.' 

They bantered for a little while longer speaking about the kind of
customers they both had to deal with that day each trying to outdo the 
other with an even more ridiculous tale. 

‘Here I have something for you,' said Ram uncle and took out a paperback
from his satchel. 

Arjun stopped cleaning and read the cover taking his time, ‘The
Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.' The book was translated into Hindi. For a 
few brief moments Arjun was transfixed as he flicked through the pages. 
Then he looked up, ‘thank you uncle.' 

‘It's nothing really. Someone left it in my rickshaw. I thought I would
give it to you when I saw you.' 

‘Shouldn't we try to return it to the owner,' said Arjun. 

‘This is Shiva's Prasad,' laughed the old man, ‘you should read and
enjoy it. And besides where are we going to find the owner in this vast 
city?' He patted Arjun on his shoulder and made his way to the boss to 
hand over the days taking. 

Arjun returned to his own rickshaw and climbed into the passenger seat.
Shiva's Prasad, he thought and began to read the book. 

‘Hey Arjun I don't have all day,' shouted the boss from across the
depot. ‘Hurry up and finish.' 

Arjun stuffed the book into his shirt and quickly picked up the rag
again. As he was cleaning the back seats he noticed a small brown 
packet wedged between the two seats. He picked it up gingerly and was 
about to open it but stopped. It must have belonged to that horrible 
man, he thought. He could feel his heart racing, was this too Shiva's 
Prasad? What should I do? I certainly can't leave it here over night. 

‘Hurry up boy, don't make me come over there!' 

I'm not going to find the man tonight. I'll worry about it tomorrow. He
made the packet disappear into his shirt too. His boss was busy 
counting the day's cash when Arjun presented himself to the desk. He 
handed a bunch of dirty greasy notes and coins to his boss. 

‘Everything okay,' said his boss noting Arjun's silence. Arjun didn't
answer. The packet was bulging inside his shirt. He could feel the 
rough corners cut into his skin. His boss handed Arjun a small stack of 
coins. Arjun didn't count it, at a glance he could see it wasn't nearly 
enough but said nothing. Life was tough and the poor couldn't complain. 


‘I'm fine boss, just tired,' said Arjun finally and gathered the cash. 

He walked the three miles to his home as quick as he could. The streets
were dark and you just never knew who was waiting in the alleys. He 
reached a small off-white stone house in a poor neighbourhood. The 
plaster was crumbling and had fallen off in many parts. It was quite 
desolate and in obvious need for repair. The windows were tiny, wooden 
and painted blue. The door was open, despite the lateness of the hour. 
There was nothing worth stealing from this house. 

He crouched low in the doorway and went in. It was gloomy inside; the
only light came from a small paraffin lamp. His sister Nisa greeted him 
with a warm smile. She was seven years old and had been reading nearby 
the lamp. His mother was sleeping on a thin mattress at the back of the 
one room house. 

‘How is she?' he whispered. 

Nisa closed her book and shook her head; tears filled her eyes, ‘not any
better.' 

Arjun went over to his mother and kissed her gently on the forehead. She
was still burning from the fever. She hadn't moved, but was snoring 
gently. Arjun noticed the empty bottle of pills from beside her. ‘When 
did these run out?' he asked. 

‘I don't know,' replied Nisa turning away from him, ‘she takes them
every time she's in pain from the coughing.' 

‘And you let her! How could you have been so stupid?' he snarled. 

Nisa started crying, ‘you think I can stop her?' 

Arjun went over and put his arm around her. ‘I'm sorry,' he whispered.
‘But you have to tell me these things. She can't just take this when 
she wants. It's very powerful medicine. It's not for the pain, but the 
infection inside her.' He put the bottle in his pocket. He made a 
mental note to get it refilled at the hospital chemist in the morning. 
‘There shouldn't be a break in her treatment,' the doctor had said. 

‘I didn't know what to do. You are working so much these days. Mum
doesn't even know you drive a rickshaw. She still thinks you are going 
to school,' she blurted out. 

‘Shush,' he hissed, ‘keep your voice down. ‘I'm just doing this till she
gets better again and can return to work.' 

‘But we should tell her nah? We shouldn't lie to her?' 

‘You think she will let me drive a rickshaw if she knew!' 

Nisa shook her head. 

‘She won't get better if she knows what we are doing. So it will be our
secret until she recovers, remember we promised,' said Arjun. 

She nodded; her tears on his chest. Arjun hugged her tighter. She felt
something against her head. ‘What's this?' She rubbed her finger 
against the book, feeling the outline. Arjun removed the book from his 
shirt. With the discovery of the brown packet he had almost forgotten 
about the book. He flourished it with a wave. She took it in her hands 
and flipped through it. ‘Where did you get this book brother?' 

One of the rickshaw uncles gave it to me. You can read it first if you
like. She loved reading more than Arjun did and she quickly began 
looking over the words. They transported her to a better place for a 
few brief moments as she made her way to the lamp and sat down crossed 
legged like a yogi. 

Just then his mum stirred from her slumber. ‘Arjun are you home,' she
whispered in a frail voice. 

Arjun went over and placed his hand on her head. She tried to get up but
he stopped her. ‘How is your studies these days, I hardly get a chance 
to ask you?' She coughed into her hand. 

‘I'm learning something new everyday mother,' he replied glaring at his
sister in case she would tell her their secret. He wasn't entirely 
lying, the time he didn't spend in school he would pedal his rickshaw 
ferrying kids his age and older to and from the various schools in his 
district. And he would surreptitiously ask the kids many questions and 
hence advance his education every chance he got. 

Lucky for him he also carried older teenagers and college kids, and
never missed an opportunity to probe further ending up getting a well 
rounded education. Rickshaw driving became his means to an end. One day 
he was going to leave this harsh life behind and bring his family to a 
better life. 

‘Have you eaten your dinner yet?' 

Arjun shook his head. He knew no one would have eaten a thing until he
returned home. It was one more thing that kept them together, kept them 
strong and bonded. 

‘I'll make it hot,' she said trying to get up again. 

‘Mama I'll make it hot,' said Nisa and quickly began pumping the fuel
inlet on the paraffin stove. Soon a small steady flame erupted giving 
the room a bit more light. It was probably a good thing; Arjun didn't 
want his mother to see his tired face. 

Nisa reheated the yellow turmeric rich dhal and fluffy white rice. It
was a staple they had been eating for the last few years ever since 
they had lost their father and had been forced to leave their home and 
come and live here in the poor district. 

She fiddled around with a pot trying to get every scrap of rice from the
bottom onto three equal small plates. She put the dhal on the rice and 
then placed it in front of them on the floor. 

‘It's your favourite,' said his mum. 

He looked at the plate and smiled, inhaling the strong curry smell. His
sister must have made it, the turmeric glowed a nuclear yellow. ‘You 
really shouldn't be spoiling me,' he said. ‘But here you must have 
some.' He took a small scoop in his fingers and fed his mother. She 
laughed and ate it. 

‘And here, this is for you.' She scooped some in her hand and put it in
his mouth. He chewed it thoughtfully trying to suppress his tears. And 
in this way they all ate as well as they could with what little they 
had. 

After they had finished Nisa cleared up the plates and went outside to
wash them. Their mother stifled a yawn and went back to the thin 
mattress. He joined her and crouched besides her feet and began 
massaging them. ‘I'm just so tired these days,' she said with another 
yawn. Soon, he heard her snoring. 

She's not going to last much longer, he thought. Not unless I do
something about her illness. What had the doctor said? He stared up 
through the hole in the roof. He couldn't remember anything after he 
told them she had TB, an old disease which was still prevalent in 
India, especially among the poor. She needs those pills. Otherwise the 
TB was pretty much a death sentence. He stopped massaging her feet and 
legs once he was sure she was sleeping soundly and went outside. Nisa 
was just finishing up with the dishes. He put a gentle hand on her 
shoulder, ‘get some sleep; I'll bring the pots and dishes in.' 

‘Do you mind if I read that book?' 

He shook his head and she rushed back inside. The sounds of Varanasi
filled his ears. It seemed like the city never slept. He could still 
hear cars horning, people bustling about, sellers still plying their 
wares and animal noises, cattle lowing and goats bleating. He looked 
around. The neighbourhood was some distance from the sacred river but 
he could hear the distant sounds of the bells as the residents and 
visitors all preformed Ganga puja, where they would light diva candles 
and wave them in an aarti to appease and praise the Great river 
goddess. 

People came here from all over India to die, believing their soul will
transcend to heaven upon leaving their mortal frame. That was what the 
holy books of India had stated. Varanasi was like a portal straight to 
Shiva, the ultimate reality, Brahman, as the Hindus believed. But he 
didn't want her to die and go to heaven, not yet anyway. He wanted to 
make his mother live; whatever it took. Heaven could wait. 

After tidying away the plates and pots he clamoured to his tiny alcove
deep set into the wall. A small thin mattress lay huddled against the 
back. He smoothed it out and climbed inside the alcove. He closed his 
eyes and imagined finding his father. They had lost him some years back 
when Nisa was only a baby. A great earthquake had torn the city up. 
Many had died or been made homeless. They had feared he too had 
perished, but his mother was always hopeful that one day he would be 
returned to them. 

Arjun turned to his side and was startled to feel an awkward lump. The
package, he realised. Somehow he had totally forgotten about it. He 
took it out and held it in his hands. It was wrapped in brown packing 
material, with a thick string tied tight around it. What was inside? He 
wondered. I shouldn't open this; it belongs to that rude man. Arjun put 
it down besides him. I should return it. 

But curiosity got the better of him. It could be drugs, and if the
police found him in possession he would probably be jailed. I need to 
know what's inside, for my family's sake he reasoned, and then 
carefully opened it feeling guilty. 

It was full of paper. On closer examination he realised what they were.
Rupees. Hundreds of used notes bundled and tied together with a thick 
rubber band. He felt the greasy used notes in his fingers. The smell of 
the money nauseated him, he felt giddy. His heart and breath quickened 
as he realised just what he was holding in his hands. Never before had 
he held that much money in his hand. 

His hand was shaking as he counted it in the dark using the glint of
moonlight that seeped into the house. ‘One lakh Indian rupees,' he 
whispered. Har har Mahadev, Lord Shiva works in mysterious ways. 

He couldn't sleep. Millions of thoughts whistled through his mind, like
a group of chattering langur monkeys. He was unable to lie still. 

What am I going to do with this money? 

The rude man had clearly missed collecting it when his briefcase had
spilled over. His loss, thought Arjun, but somehow he felt bad for him 
despite his rude behaviour. The universe will always balance out our 
karmic deeds; his mother once told him when he was an infant. Where was 
he going with all that money? The briefcase had been pretty full, Arjun 
recalled. How had the man missed it, there was hardly any place on a 
cycle rickshaw to hide a packet like this. Karma? Arjun chuckled; this 
would make all the difference in their lives. One lakh rupees was an 
incredible sum of money. It was life changing, like winning the lottery 
when you only have dhal and rice once a day for supper. 

I'm gonna have to be careful, if anyone in the neighbourhood finds out
they will stop at nothing to steal it. First he would buy some food and 
medication for his mother. Then fresh clean school clothes for his 
sister, for too long she had been going to the municipal free school in 
patched up clothes, donated by a charitable well wisher. Haven't you 
also stolen it? A random though interrupted his other thoughts of 
living the good life. He shook it away, and got back to thinking how 
else he would improve their situation. He would definitely buy some 
books too---then he would, he lost his train of thought as his mind 
turned to darker things. 

Thief! 

He gulped down and shook his head. What's the point of life if you can't
live it fairly? He felt dirty holding someone else's money. It came to 
him unearned, another thing his mother had said to him growing up. But 
it was his own fault for losing it, idiot! He screamed at his mind. 
Yes, but isn't it your responsibility to return it? Just because he 
lost it doesn't mean you get to keep it. He turned and faced the wall 
leaving the wad of cash tucked under his blanket behind him. 

I can't keep all this cash no matter what, he decided, I'll just take a
small loan just for the essentials and then return the rest, then fell 
into a deep and calm sleep. 

The next day woke up well before Nisa and his mother. He slipped out of
his corner and folded his blanket without making a sound. Nisa was 
tucked under their mother's arm, both still fast asleep. He carefully 
wrapped up the money in a scarf and tied it to his waist. After another 
quick look over his shoulder at his loved ones he left the home. 

He walked briskly in the semi-darkness to the rickshaw depot. The road
was slowly beginning to fill with early risers like him. He noticed a 
man stood outside his property brushing his teeth with a small chewed 
up stick. The man had a loose turban tied around his head, string vest 
and lungi. He seemed to stare at Arjun as he walked past. He knows, 
something whispered in Arjun's ear. Shut up, he told himself. No one 
can possibly know, with the probable exception of the rude man himself. 
But he hugged the package closer to his body and walked a little 
faster. 

When he arrived at the depot he nodded a quick greeting to the boss and
then began cleaning the dust that had settled over night on the 
rickshaw. ‘You're early Arjun, something the matter,' said the boss 
walking up to his rickshaw and laying a thick hand on it. Arjun's eyes 
wandered to the gold rings that adorned his boss's hand and then looked 
at him. 

‘Just need a little extra cash for Nisa's tuition,' he said, not exactly
a lie. 

‘Good, I like hard workers. So many people are slackers in this city,
begging for alms on every street corner; especially in the name of our 
Lord Shiva.' 

‘Yes boss, each to their own.' 

The boss hawked back and then spat out a wad of gunk onto the side.
‘Good,' he repeated, ‘keep it up.' 

‘Boss,' he hesitated, ‘did anyone come looking for me last night?' 

‘No, why would anyone come looking for you?' said the man turning to
look at Arjun with his piercing gaze. 

‘It's nothing,' said Arjun, shrugging. 

‘Are you in trouble boy?' 

‘No, look--if a man-I mean a passenger, comes looking for me then please
take his number, I have something I need to tell him.' 

‘What do I look like a pussy secretary?' 

‘Please, I believe he will want to speak to me.' 

‘What happened yesterday that people will come looking for you? You
weren't in an accident?' The boss showed concern by looking around the 
rickshaw. ‘I don't need another police case, you hear me.' 

‘It's nothing serious; this guy I dropped off was making trouble on my
rickshaw. I did what Gandhiji taught us and resisted him. He might come 
and complain.' 

The boss started laughing, ‘you and your Gandhiji. Okay if anyone comes
looking for you I'll let you know.' 

Arjun pulled his rickshaw out of the depot and then climbed onto the
saddle. The air was cool, the early sun still hidden from view. He 
started to pedal. Good, now to spend some of the loan, he thought. 

Excitement flowed through his veins. He hadn't felt this free in years.
The smoggy air rushed through his hair as he gained speed. He dodged 
through the early morning traffic and arrived at the General hospital. 
Already he could see a crowd of people in various stages of illness and 
disease. 

He leapt off the rickshaw and rushed to the entrance. Then went back and
tied a chain around the frame of the rickshaw to a bent lamp post. The 
boss would kill you if this was stolen. 

Arjun looked around wide eyed at the list of clinics and the different
hospital departments on the board at the entrance. A Ghurkha stood to 
attention with his cane nearby. Arjun walked over to him and smiled. 
‘Sir where is the dispensary,' he asked. 

The Ghurkha returned his smile and pointed to a long corridor, ‘at the
end turn right, it's the room with a big green cross, you can't miss 
it.' 

Arjun gave him a quick salute and made haste down the corridor. He found
what he was looking for, a thick wooden door with two clear Perspex 
windows. Arjun peered inside and saw a young man in a white coat 
counting out medications on the counter. Another was at the back 
preparing a thick pink liquid. Arjun put his hand to the door and 
stopped. Thief, this thought came to his attention. 

He stopped at the doorway to the dispensary unable to push the door
open. His strength failed him. Through the window he could see the 
shelves filled with medicines of all shapes and colours. His heart was 
beating faster than a humming bird's wings. 

He had one foot raised but couldn't bring himself to cross over into the
shop. What are you thinking? Think of it as Shiva's Prasad, a present 
from God. He tried to bring his foot down but by some magic force he 
couldn't enter. Your mother needs you, he thought. A tear left his eye 
and trickled down his face. She will die without treatment, his mind 
screamed at him. He entered the dispensary. But if she recovers what 
will she think of you, nothing but a petty thief! 

‘The man was so rude to me, he deserves to lose this money,' said Arjun
under his breath. Maybe, maybe not but who are you to punish him. Isn't 
that for God to decide? Back and forth these thoughts came and went 
fighting a fierce battle in his head while he looked at the bottles of 
beautifully coloured pills of various sizes and shapes. 

‘Help you son,' said the Pharmacist. 

Abruptly he turned around ran down the corridor. He found himself
outside the hospital, breathing hard and in tears. His inner conscience 
wouldn't let him ‘borrow' even a single rupee. There was always going 
to a karmic debt to settle and his was already unbalanced. With his 
mother sick but stable and him driving a peddle rickshaw just to make 
ends meet, if he stole even a single rupee that didn't belong to him 
and was unearned by his labour the karmic balance may tip completely. 

He marched back to the rickshaw and ripped off the chain and threw it
into the back seat. It hit the back with a clang. He jumped into the 
riding saddle and sped off letting the morning air breeze through his 
hair cooling him down, helping him think clearly. 

Arjun drove his rickshaw hard through the dirt alleys and gravel
streets, dodging people and other cars, cows and bicycles. It was 
reckless and dangerous but he needed to do something, see someone who 
would help, make things all right. 

He heard the bells ringing a few streets away and this gave him some
hope. Soon he slid his rickshaw to a stop just outside Shiva's temple. 
Arjun took in slow deep breaths, it was a hard ride and he needed to 
compose himself before he went in. Taking his time he climbed down from 
the seat. His legs felt like jelly and for a second he thought he was 
going to collapse but then he steadied himself. 

Arjun looked up at the temple. The beautiful marble steps that led up to
the temple were like a stairway to heaven. He walked up, taking two 
steps at a time. He entered and rang the bell; some habits were deeply 
ingrained, and then looked at the Murti, an idol of Shiva. Hot tears 
filled his eyes. 

‘What do you want from me?' he shouted at Shiva. Some of the people near
him who had been praying silently began to look in his direction. The 
priest who was conducting the morning prayers near the Murti paid no 
attention to him. Most days he saw men and women of all ages coming to 
scream at the Murti, as if this was a way to get God's attention. God 
had better things to worry about than a screaming boy. He continued to 
wave the plate which contained a diva, a lamp filled with Ghee, 
clarified butter around the face of the Murti in an attempt to appease 
the God within. 

‘Why did you do this to me?' said Arjun looking directly into Shiva's
eyes. The Murti was made in a classic Shiva pose, Him seated in a lotus 
position, with His eyes half closed in meditation. His third eye fully 
closed, Arjun knew this from the tuition his Teacher used to give him 
as a boy. When that Third eye opened, it meant the end of the Universe. 
‘There is nothing you can do to tempt me! Here you can take this money, 
but it won't do you any good either. It is the root of all evil.' 

Shiva remained quiet, meditative, contemplating the fate of the entire
universe in silence as always. 

Arjun hissed at the Murti and then rummaged around in his shirt for the
package. He held it in his hand, it felt heavy with potential. Think 
about all the good you can do with this money. ‘Yeah but at what cost!' 
he said, and was about to throw the money at the Murti when he heard a 
soft sobbing noise coming from the side of the temple. He hadn't heard 
it before because of his loud ranting and the noise of the bells and 
other people's whispered prayers were drowning it out. There it was; a 
soft incessant crying which became crystal clear above all the everyday 
noise and bustle of a busy Holy city when he paid attention to it. 

He paused and listened for a few moments, then walked over to
investigate. Someone was clearly more upset than him. Arjun walked 
around to the side of the temple. He saw a dark figure sat in a heap 
with his head buried in his knees, crying. ‘Is everything okay?' 
stammered Arjun. 

The man continued to cry, almost as of he hadn't heard him. Arjun put
his hand on the man's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. The man 
looked up at him through bleary eyes. 

It was the rude man from the previous day. His eyes were red from the
crying, hair dishevelled and his clothes were dirty and frayed now. In 
a city with population of a million people, what were the chances of 
bumping into this man, thought Arjun. He turned to go then stopped 
himself. What were the chances indeed? 

‘I think this belongs to you;' he said and dropped the scarf into the
man's lap. Arjun turned and walked down the steps, feeling like a huge 
weight had left his shoulders. 

The man wiped his tears and stared at the package in his lap. Slowly he
opened the scarf. An animalistic cry left his lips. It was his money. 
Now fresh tears filled his eyes, but these tears were of rejoice and 
relief. He scrambled to his feet and turned to the temple. He bowed low 
and thanked Shiva, the merciful. 

He rushed down the stairs and looked about frantically and finally found
Arjun who was climbing into his rickshaw. He ran quickly to catch up 
with him. ‘Wait, please wait,' said the man, his voice cracking. 

Arjun turned around, surprised and looked at the bedraggled man. Now
what did he want? He got his filthy money! 

‘You're that rickshaw-wallah from yesterday,' blurted the man. 

Arjun nodded. 

‘I'm so sorry...for the way I behaved to you yesterday. I am not a rude
man by nature, but circumstances made me behave the way I did. You are 
a special boy to return this money and I want to thank you for doing 
this great deed.' 

Arjun didn't reply. 

‘It can't have been easy to give away 1 lakh rupees to a stranger.' 

‘Its just money,' said Arjun with a shrug. 

‘If only that was true my boy. This money,' he said waving the scarf
bundle, ‘it's more than that. Much more.' 

‘I hope it makes you happy,' said Arjun. 

The man shook his head. ‘This is blood money.' 

Arjun felt a chill run down his spine. 

‘I want to tell you why I was rude to you yesterday. Will you listen to
my story?' 

Arjun nodded. The man sat down on the temple step and nodded for Arjun
to join him. ‘There are horrible people in this world, people even 
Shiva himself would struggle to punish. These so called doctors have 
kidnapped my daughter and have asked for ten lakh rupees as ransom.' 

Doctors? he thought, but continued to listen to the man, unable to
believe the story. How could this happen in Varanasi, the holiest city 
in India. 

‘My little girl has failing kidneys. She is on deaths door, Yam-raj
Himself will be coming to claim her in the next few hours if these 
so-called doctors don't operate. She's just six years old.' 

Arjun finally understood; nothing is free in this world, not even saving
a little girls life. 

‘I have paid them every last rupee I owned. I had to sell everything
including the clothes on my back. When I dropped off the money 
yesterday in that briefcase I fully expected to see my little girl 
smiling again but those bastards told me I was short by 1 lakh rupees. 
Apparently I had lost it. They gave me one more day to pay them or they 
will kill her by the end of today.' 

Kill her, thought Arjun, it would be negligent but surely not murder.
But then he realised that by not operating because of the money 
shortfall she would die anyway. He shook his head slowly. 

‘Where was I going to find one rickshaw-wallah in a city of a million
souls?' he started crying again. 

Arjun bit the inside of his cheek and drew blood, unable to contemplate
the story and his role in it. His mother was sick and the medicines 
would definitely make her better, but this man's daughter didn't 
deserve her fate. What if I hadn't returned the money? 

‘You are one in a billion to come back and return my money,' said the
man wiping his eyes. ‘If you hadn't come back today I would have lost 
the only precious thing in my life.' 

‘It was the right thing to do,' said Arjun. 

They sat in silence for a few moments. Arjun ran a hand through his
thick hair and then turned to smile at the man. ‘Look, I need to get 
back to work.' 

‘How did you know I was going to be here?' asked the man. 

‘I didn't, I guess we both got lucky,' he walked over and jumped onto
the saddle. 

The man didn't ask any further questions just looked at the eleven year
old kid sat in the saddle of a peddle rickshaw. Neither believed it had 
been pure luck but said nothing more. 

‘You're really young to be driving that rickshaw.' 

‘We all have to do what it takes. Can I drop you off anywhere?' 

The man nodded and Arjun stood up and pushed on the pedals to gain
momentum. The rickshaw moved forward. They didn't speak again for the 
remainder of the journey and soon arrived at the private hospital 
located close to the Burning Ghats. 

Arjun could smell the scent of burning flesh. He turned his nose away as
best as he could but the stench was all around him. ‘This is as far as 
I can take you,' he said. The man smiled for the first time and it made 
Arjun happy. 

‘Thanks for your help, you have done more than enough,' he said. He put
his hand on Arjun's head and then smiled again. ‘I have no rupees to 
pay for the ride, but I want you to have something.' He reached inside 
his battered looking shirt and pulled out a beaded mala necklace. ‘My 
friend gave me this and told me it would bring me luck.' 

Arjun looked at the necklace. It was made with Rudraksha beads, 108 in
number tied together with a cord. Some said the beads were Shiva's 
tears rained down on Earth, or so the story went. The man placed it 
around Arjun's neck. 

‘Maybe this will bring you luck too.' 

Arjun lifted it to his eyes and noticed it had silver square pendent in
the middle with the sacred ‘Om' symbol carved on it. ‘Thank you,' said 
Arjun, ‘it's beautiful.' 

The man clutched his scarf full of money tight against his chest. 

‘You want me to come with you?' said Arjun. 

He shook his head, ‘no, I just need to bank this cash in their coffers
and they will begin the operation almost immediately. They already have 
everything in place.' The man nodded his head and the disappeared into 
the air conditioned white hospital. 

Arjun returned to his rickshaw and rode away from the Burning Ghats. The
place was supposed to make a man feel humble, that at the end of life 
this was where everyone ended up, whether rich or poor, ugly or pretty. 
Death was the great equalizer, to all living things. But to Arjun this 
place still gave him the creeps. Corpse after corpse was brought out by 
the men and burnt on funeral pyres all day and all night, an industry 
that never stopped. They would never have a shortage of customers, 
thought Arjun, as long as people believed in something other people 
would turn it into an industry. He could remember having to negotiate 
with a mean man for the price of the wood for the fire his sister was 
burned on. He shook this vivid memory away. Those people had made a 
killing in the aftermath of the great earthquake. Such is life, he 
thought and pedalled harder. 

‘You're early,' said Ram uncle as Arjun parked his rickshaw next to his
on the main street overlooking the market. 

‘I did my good deed for the day uncle,' said Arjun feeling light headed.


Ram uncle smiled and said, ‘you're forever looking after other people's
interests, God bless you son.' 

‘Eh rickshaw-wallah,' someone shouted across from the street. They both
looked up. 

‘Go on uncle, that fare has your name written all over it,' said Arjun.
Ram-uncle insisted Arjun take the fare saying his legs were hurting. 
And like this another day passed for Arjun in his home-made school 
where he learned from the various people he met the most important 
lessons in life. 

When the sun set Arjun returned to the depot and parked his rickshaw. He
began to clean it up slowly taking his time. Just last night he was a 
lakh-pathi, a rich boy and today he was a pauper again. How the world 
works continued to amaze him. Arjun emptied his pockets and looked at 
his fares from today, and smiled. The amount was insignificant but more 
importantly earned, by his sweat and toil. He closed his small fist and 
went over to his boss and deposited the day's takings. 

Upon returning home he went over to where his mother was sat, praying.
She was looking a lot better, he thought. He bent over and kissed her 
lightly on her head. His mala necklace fell out and landed on his 
mother's lap. She picked it up and examined it. ‘Where did you get 
this?' she said. 

‘A nice man gave it to me...' he began, but his mother cut him off. She
jumped up and grabbed him by the shoulders. It was the first time she 
had got up in months. Her eyes sparkled as she cried out, ‘this mala 
belonged to your father.' 

Arjun was shocked. He hugged his mum, ‘are you sure?' 

‘Where is he?' she demanded. 

‘I don't know mother, but there might be someone I know who does,' said
Arjun. 

He took her hand and led her to outside their tiny house. He wondered if
the man and his daughter were still going to be at the hospital. They 
would soon find out. And there was always a way of finding out where 
patients were if the right people were asked in the right way he 
figured. 

He looked at his mother from the corner of his eye as they walked. He
hadn't seen her this excited in a long time. She was walking slowly but 
already she was looking better. He smiled and raised his arm out 
hailing a passing rickshaw driver. The man stopped and nodded for them 
to climb aboard. ‘We can't afford a rickshaw ride,' said his mother. 

‘God will provide,' said Arjun and gave her frail hand a squeeze. It
felt warm against his skin. The man peddled along taking his time. He 
was an older man and was struggling to push the pedals along the dirt 
tracks. 

‘You want me to take over?' 

The man turned his head around and snickered, ‘you drive a rickshaw,
ha.' He laughed and turned back to face the night traffic. Arjun 
laughed along side him, the joke was definitely on him. 

Arjun felt something inside his pocket. Confused, he put his hand in his
pocket and took out a small scrap of paper. A golden light flashed from 
it briefly when he unfolded it. 

Shiva does work in mysterious ways. 

THE END


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