The Chocolate

With the guitar on my lap, my arm going through the strings and adjusting its tunes, I was placidly repeating, ‘18 till I die…’ The prospect of pursuing artistic studies at home is not a brilliant idea. But being very much sincere about doing what you like gives an immense and different pleasure towards the end. The practice has been over for the day, in the weekend, I stayed quiet. So I should indulge myself in a blissful dinner after my own heart. I thought to myself, as I locked my little room and prepared to enjoy a few minute walking to the nearest Punjabi Hotel.

This tiny space so called Punjabi Hotel of size 15ft x 5ft, situated at a road side attracts hundreds of people every day preparing homely vegetarian dishes like aloo fry, baigan fry, rajma, cabbage, cully flower and paneer etc with less oil and mirchi. There is a crowd to take seat and for parcel. It has been hygienic and cheap to have food there and I have been a daily customer.

“Where is Govind? I had last seen him a week before.” I asked the other guy.

“He freed himself Sir. He was looking for work at his home town, for we are stupid as owls here to work at thousand kilometers away from native.” There was a sudden huskiness in the guy’s voice though he tried to make believe that it was. I knew a word about home would comfort him. So I went on with my questions,

“It is very hard. Do you leave a family?”

“My old mother and a sick brother…”

“Oh, I see.” I said little reluctantly and ordered for two rotis with a palak dal. On the way back to room, my mind drifted towards Govind, a fourteen-fifteen year guy with an ever smile on his face and a red scrap bound tight on his head.

4 months back ---

My Mom was with me during her summer vacation and that was a Friday evening when we had an official party. 60ml of Blender’s Pride with 90ml of coke and regular size three ice cubes (On earth I only know how I came out of that dangerous addiction!!!) was on the table when I thought of Mom, what she would have in her dinner. I excused myself from the table and came outside. It was raining heavily. “But I would be late to reach room”, I thought to myself, reached for my cell phone and dialed Govind.

“Govind, Sahoo this side. I need your help.” I cried out.

“Tell me.” He blurted out as words were not clear due to heavy water drops.

“I’m outside and will be late. Mom is there in room. Could you please parcel some rotis and sabji for her and deliver to her?”

In that tiny shop, there are only two guys, one as a cashier and the other as a waiter. There is no such home-delivery rule there. In addition to that Govind didn’t have any idea of my room location. There was absolutely zero probability that he would answer yes to my request.

“Where is your room?”

And there he was, looking up; with a smile on his brave brown face in my imagination. I never expected him to deliver the parcel. But he did that; in that heavy rain, dark night.

After few days Mom left, telling me to give Govind a diary milk chocolate to which I said yes gladly. And that time never turned up. Whenever I visited the shop, my mind reminded me to give him a choco but before that it got lost on the mid way.

As I unlocked the door last night with a gloomy face, my mind advised me, “Sometimes it’s better to have an impatient attitude – it’s now or never.”

Uncle Sam asked, “What’s the difference between the uses of assertion & verification in Virtex and Spartans?”

Signature: God Bless You.

              Satyabrata.