The Hawker

[Guest guest]

THE HAWKER

Ashok Sinha

The one platform station had one electric bulb working in front of the shed that

held the office of the station master cum guard. At three hours past midnight of

this December chill, even that was closely shut tight to keep the cold away. If

the station master was inside he displayed no sign of life. Fog drifted in and

out of the station and flirted with the lonely light post. The dust covered

leaves of the trees that were meant to provide greenery to the station,

reflected no light and actually increased the darkness. Even the slowest

passenger train would hesitate to stop at this station. But one train did stop

sometimes after three and I had to board that. I was alone and hungry, funny how

loneliness improved your appetite. I had my dinner at ten and walked five

kilometers from my village to this station. I had to, because this train would

take me to my hostel and I would not miss the ten o clock class. I carried a

small bag and a shawl to fight the cold. The train would stop only for me; that

was great I thought, but I was alone and it was not a comfortable idea. I

decided to walk around the graveled platform. By then my eyes had accommodated

to the darkness, I could see quite well, at least the form of the things around

me.

Somewhere in the centre of the platform there was one concrete slab for people

to sit. I could see that and decided to rest my feet. As I went near, I realized

that the slab was occupied and I was not alone in the platform. I felt better

immediately. There was this person sleeping on the slab, the body covered by a

cloth of unknown description. As I stood there watching the sleeping figure, a

slight worry crept in, was this figure moving, I mean alive! In the semi

darkness I could hardly make out and I was not particularly interested in going

very near. I became another unmoving figure in the darkness. In what seemed to

be eternity, may be fifteen seconds or so, the figure moved slightly, the

movement of a sleeping man. This could hardly be a woman. I relaxed and took a

few steps back; I had to stand for the rest of my waiting, which looked okay and

safe now.

The door of the shed opened and another figure stepped out, the station master.

Lantern in hand he yawned and stretched his arms. The train was due any minute.

The sleeping figure as if on a cue, got up and started arranging his property.

As I could see now, this man was a hawker, had his metal and glass hardware

ready and hanging from his neck in a minute. His linen folded neatly into a bag.

Then surprising me with the suddenness of his activity, the hawker blurted

" mungfalli " , in the typical tone of a hawker inviting customer's attention. If

that was not stupid, nothing was. Three in the morning, a lone man on the

platform and the hawker is still interested in his enterprise. I ignored him as

the train slowly glided in. The train hardly had any passengers on it.

Who-so-ever were there must be sleeping. I jumped into the nearest compartment.

It was empty, except one man, a big man occupying the one-seater on the left

side, legs spread in front, a scarf covering his head and most part of his face.

This man was deep in slumber. I decided to sit on the other corner, away but not

very far from this sleeping giant. The whole compartment was vacant. I could

just lie flat with my bag as a pillow and I could pass the rest of the night

comfortably. Just then the hawker entered the same compartment and walked up to

the seat occupied by the giant with sure steps. Seeing the seat occupied, the

hawker stopped and stood there, holding on to the rod as the train started

moving. I was expecting the hawker to sit down, but he did not oblige. The next

station was only five minutes and he would probably get down there. As he stood

there again he announced " Mungfalli " . Not too loudly, not particularly aiming at

any of the other occupants of the compartment, he just belched it out. I was

wondering at this man, what was he up to? Fellow must be tired hawking the whole

day, one would expect him to rest. He stood there, next to the sleeping

passenger, caressing his wares with his left hand. He yawned, stretched himself,

bent forward and I thought he would now sit down some place. He did not, he just

looked outside in the darkness and I could sense urgency in him. He edged closer

to the sleeping giant and I was worried. Was he a pickpocket or something!

Something nefarious was happening and I was not surprised that he ignored me

completely because I was all of forty five kilos those days. I could not stop

this man even if I wanted to; though the hawker was in no better shape than me,

I simply did not have the confidence. Should I wake up the passenger, I decided

to wait and watch. I did not move and tried to be as aloof as I could. Well I

should not have bothered; the hawker had many surprises for me. He went to the

sleeping giant and nudged him, " sir please let me sit " .

That was the limit, the whole compartment was empty, seventy seven people could

sit comfortably without disturbing each other and this hawker was waking up this

sleeping passenger to share his seat! Luckily the man did not move, he was too

deep into his slumber. This man must be crazy. Which was safer a madman or a

thief, I started wondering. The sound of the running train disappeared from my

ears, I was all nerves. Taut, watchful, I was ready for fight, no, flight. I

clutched my bag tightly and looked around for a safe exit. The hawker stood

silently for a few seconds, looked about the window and now more desperately,

more deliberately pushed the sleeping man, " Sir, could I sit here " . The man,

half awake, looked up, shrugged and pointed to the seat in front of him, and

went back to sleep.

The hawker did not go to the seat offered to him, he just stood there. After a

few seconds silence, which seemed like eternity to me, he patted the passenger's

shoulder firmly, " Sir, please let me sit " . This time the man was awake. He

looked up, gave him a very dirty stare and waved his hand as if to remove a fly

from his coat. Sternly, this time he pointed to a seat in front of him. The

hawker did not budge, " Sir please " , he begged. The big passenger was angry, he

ought to be, and I thought the madman was in trouble now. The voice of the giant

matched his size " Go sit there; are you mad? " My heart missed a beat, ominous

signs all around; I made myself as invisible as possible. If there was one brave

man around, it was the hawker, he staked his claim again, " Sir, please let me

sit " . Mad. The big man stood up, he was a giant, truly, his shape covered the

whole area, his arms were the size of my inflated chest; he lifted one of those

and pushed the hawker away, " Go away, you want to die? " It did not sound like an

empty threat to me; one blow from those huge arms could kill the hawker, with no

residues. The hawker stumbled away, regained his balance, and stood a couple of

feet away from me. The giant sat down, pulled his scarf over his eyes and tried

to calm himself. I thought that was the end of the drama. But it was not to be,

the hawker looked out of the window and hurriedly went back to the passenger,

" Sir for God's sake, please let me sit " . I closed my eyes, this was it. I do not

know how the hawker was hit, but I could hear the blow, it was a dull sound,

followed by a cluttering of metal and I opened my eyes to see the half fed

hawker spread on the floor in front of me. His merchandise spread all over the

floor. The hawker was bleeding from the corner of his mouth as he picked himself

up. You asked for it, I wanted to say, did not dare to. I looked at the giant,

he was sitting, puffing, looking outside, may be trying to cool himself down. I

helped the hawker pick his things, looked at him, " Why don't you sit here " , I

whispered, showing him the empty space next to me. I did not exist for this

ludicrous man; he ignored me, picked up his things slowly and lovingly. Each

piece dear to his heart, each one a most expensive jewelry, he wiped the tin

cap carefully, picked up the salt can, picked up the salt from the floor,

avoiding contact with the floor, collected the odd ground nuts still scattered

all around, looked under the seat if he missed anything. Satisfied he stood up;

wiped the blood off his face and finally acknowledged my existence. He smiled

faintly at me, the blood was nearly gone but the pain was not. I gaped at him,

did not know what to say, this man was not mad.

As I watched him, the hawker walked back to the passenger, who was now looking

at him, slightly shaken by the events, probably sorry he hit a man half his

size. The hawker, no hesitation in his strides, walked to him and said " Sir,

please, please let me sit " . I could see the man control himself, control his

anger, his bulging muscles, he body was ready to jump up, his arms ready to hit

again but his mind was hesitant. The passenger looked at the hawker; surprise

took the better of him; as if in a trance he moved slightly, a couple of inches

and said " Sit " . The hawker sat down in that two inches allowed to him. He could

hardly sit, his bum just touching the corner of the seat. But the smile on his

face was broad, his eyes gleaming, he looked a winner. He balanced himself

carefully, tried not to get dislodged from the two inches he conquered. The

passenger was wide awake, his eyes betraying his astonishment at this

perseverant hawker and not comprehending anything. The hawker looked at the

giant with grateful eyes, " Sir, a bidi? " the giant negated shaking his head. The

hawker lit his bidi, took a deep satisfying puff and looked outside. The train

was slowing down, the next station, as dark and dead as the last one, slowly

stopped the train. The hawker jumped up, bowed at the giant, threw me a look,

and walked steadily out of the compartment and disappeared into the darkness of

the station.