"The GARBAGE and THE GARBAGE COLLECTOR"

I was standing in my balcony when I saw him. Wearing an over-sized black shirt which was less darker and muddier than his face, he carried a waste bag on his shoulder. His waste bag was taller and may be three times wider than him. He was wearing a trouser, again over-sized and tied around his waist with the help of a red colored ribbon. Maybe someone was kind enough to throw a ribbon that we use to decorate our Diwali and Christmas gifts with. And maybe he was lucky enough to pick it up well before another under-nourished kid in over-sized pants came along. He was bare-foot. I do not know what it feels like to walk with naked feet on a hot-summer road. His hairs were all ruffled up and muddy, with the lack of proper bath I guess. People pay to get that kind of hairdo these days.


With the serious expression usually associated to a bread-earner's face, he was walking very slowly, intently looking at the sides of the road. Whenever he found something interesting, he'd pick it up and put it in his bag. By interesting I mean, empty bottles or pieces of newspaper or plastic bags or cardboard, you get the picture right??.

The reason why I was standing there in my balcony was that after two day long convention at my place, I had to dispose off all that had accumulated at my place. I was waiting for the MCD van to pick things up and make my place ready for the next intellectual meet. And that's the reason I noticed the garbage collector. Just when he reached in front of a shop, he stopped. I could not see what he was staring at, at first.

If you too live in a colony where shops are an extension of one's residence then you might have noticed this. A shopkeeper orders so many things every day and they all come in card-board boxes. Boxes of 2 litre cold-drinks, packets of chips, maggi, whatever whatever. He was staring at those card-board boxes. A strange thought came to me then. May be I was looking at those cardboard boxes but he was looking at his lunch. Lunch that he will get after selling those empty boxes.Anyways, he tried to take one step towards those card-boards when the sixty year old shopkeeper moved like a bolt. I know the shopkeeper. He is always complaining about how bad his knees are and how old he has become. So old that his throat hurts if he tries to speak normally. That's when I heard him shout at the kid "Oye, chal yahan se!!". I was standing in my balcony on the first floor and my house is 5 houses away from his shop. But I heard him alright. I guess some situations in life call for desperate measures. Saving precious empty card-board boxes from a 11 year old garbage collector is one such situation. And the old man rose to the situation gloriously.

The boy moved on without even looking back at the shopkeeper. Stray dogs also ignore you like that. They will walk towards something lying out side your place, trying to sniff around and when you take a single step toward them, they move one. Because stray dogs, like that kid, know how people like us react. That's why they ignore you. Maybe because both are more concerned about the question of survival than reacting. So they do not waste time by protesting to a 60 year old man. They move on.


I don't know why but that's when I called out his name. I said "Oye". [Oye : Expression used by millions in India especially for calling people beneath them. You do not have to bother yourself about the name of any kid serving you at a dhaba or the puncture waala or rickshaw-puller. All you have to say is "Oye"]. I said "Oye". But he was busy. So this time I called out a bit louder. "Oye Ladke". He detached his eyes from the road for the first time. And looked up. With my hand I gestured him to come up. I called him inside, took him to the balcony and filled his bag with all the leftovers. Empty bottles of alcohol, empty pizza boxes and all the empty junk that you can imagine after an intellectual party. His bag was filled up to the brim.

I asked his name. He simply looked at me. As if the concept of name has not yet reached the place where he lived. I looked at him and his look said - He do not understand my world just as much as I do not understand his. I have been igonored many times in life and I know it hurts when somebody do that to you. But to be absolutly ignored as a fellow human-being. That I had never experienced. So I asked his name again. He mumbled "Hari". That's what he said and that's ALL he said. I asked him if he'll be able to pick up the bag. He didn't reply. Just picked the bag, turned around and was gone.


I came back inside and thought I did some good. I was happy that I had filled his bag with all the garbage that I can, so no shopkeeper will shout at him now. But then I realized, he never had any issues with somebody shouting at him. I did what I did because I wanted to feel like I have done something good. I thought he would be happy to get the bag and will remember me for the generosity that I had shown him. I rushed to the balcony thinking that he might look up and will give me a smile before he go. I saw him on the road, looking at the road again. Though this time ie was walking swiftly towards the direction he had come. Hari was not effected by my intentions. He probably was running towards his workplace to unload the bag and go out again.




That's when I realized that for me, Hari was a garbage collector who I thought I had helped by giving out all the garbage and he was a source of I-did-some-good but for him all I am was a bag full of garbage..........................