By H H Mohrmen
We have read books about important, rich and famous people. Their biographies and autobiographies sell like hotcakes. Indeed the world today is obsessed with the rich and the famous. And in a society where every little thing that famous people do makes headlines, perhaps it is only right if we look around and realize that there are ordinary people and they too have a life. Their lives may not be as spicy as the lives of the rich and the famous, yet they are important in their own right and their stories too need to be told.
These are not fictional but real stories of people who so generously allowed me to be part of their lives. There’s nothing extraordinary about their lives and you must also have bumped into some of them or some of their friends in the street but you just did not have the time to explore their world. You must have bought ‘waidong’ or a newspaper from them but perhaps you just didn’t remember to look at their faces because you immediately turned your eyes to the betel-nut packet he/she offered you or maybe your glance went straight away at the headlines of the newspaper the moment he/she handed it over to you. You wait for the change without even looking at the person. You are indifferent to this person who meets your daily needs!
The background of the story is that we have been involved with kids selling betel-nuts and newspapers in Jowai a long time ago. We started by organizing Children’s Day celebration for them and buying them football so that they can play during their free time. Occasionally we take them for a picnic and hence had developed a special relationship with the kids. We even have a secret handshake when we meet and greet each other. And when we meet in the streets and don’t have time for our secret handshake we simply give ourselves a high-five.
It was midday in the middle of the week a few months ago, the caretaker of the church came to tell me that there is a young boy who would like to see me and said that he wanted to meet ‘Sir dai kwai’ or sir/uncle of the betel-nut sellers. I wear different hats so people use different titles when they introduce me. Some people call me pastor/rev, or environment activist and social worker, some call me Babu and still some call me journalist or columnist but to tell you the truth, I think I like ‘sir dai kwai.’
I told the caretaker to allow the young boy in. They boy who stood in front of me was barely 11 years old with uncombed hair, dressed in rags and looked like he barely had time to wash his face in the morning. He was less than two feet tall and had a pot belly ( perhaps a sign of malnourishment) but there was sadness in his eyes. I asked him ‘Why? Where’s you basket?’ He told me that a certain woman had taken his basket which still had some betel-nut worth more than two hundred rupees in it. The basket has become a trademark of the betel-nut sellers in Jowai who went around the market to sell their wares. When I asked him why the woman took his basket, he told me that the lady who was running the canteen of a certain hospital in Jowai and had prohibited them from selling betel-nuts or newspaper in the hospital premises because she felt she had a proprietorship rights to the space.
I then told him to ‘collect as many betel-nut sellers as he could, get together and go to the woman to demand that she return his betel-nut basket. With his small feet he walked out of my room and told his friends at Iawmusiang market what I had instructed them to do. They approached the woman in the canteen and asked for the basket to be returned to its rightful owner. The woman was adamant and did not return the basket. They came back and reported what had happened. I told them to take me to the canteen owner. When I reached the canteen I requested her to hand over the basket to the boy because it did not belong to her. She refused to hand over the basket to the boy. I immediately called the Superintendent of the hospital and told him what had happened. I enquired if there was any prohibition from the management of the hospital to sell kwai and newspaper in the vicinity of the hospital. The answer was ‘no’.
The doctor asked me to give him some time to respond to my complaint. When I did not get a call from the Medical Superintendent, I tried calling back but he refused to pick up the phone. I then decided to take the next move and went to make a complaint at the Jowai police station. Immediately a police team along with a woman police accompanied us to the canteen. Some of the betel nut sellers also followed us and jumped into the back of the police gypsy. The young boy whose basket was seized sat beside me and with a faint voice said, ‘People look down on us because we are poor, otherwise why would they take our basket.” The lady police immediately replied, “That’s why we are here to protect you.”
We reached the canteen and the owner on seeing the police team immediately handed over the basket to the boy. After questioning the woman, the officer asked me if I wanted to press charges, to which I said no. But what the police may not have realized is that their single act has built the confidence of these young kids and boosted the moral of the police even while the system stands corrected.
Next day the young boy’s mother came to my office to express her gratitude for helping her kids. She brought along two pineapples. I refused to take the gifts and told her that she should give them to the kids. She fervently requested me to accept her humble gifts to which I had no other option but to accept with gratefulness. The young woman then told me of her plight and that she had to take care of her broken family. She told me that her kids had to drop out of school to help support the family. She wanted to sue her ex-husband for maintenance but did not know where to go and how to do it.
November 3, of every year is being celebrated as the World Disabled Day. A variety of programs were organized by the state and the districts and promises galore are made on that particular day. The next day everything is back to square one for the differently- abled people. B.T. is a young man who needs the support of two crutches to walk. He works as a helper (dalal) to bring passengers to the taxis and in spite of the difficulties he faces he has to work hard to eke out a living. A few years ago I suggested that he approach a bank which has scheme for the differently-able people. He did so but the bank told him that they can provide him the loan only if he could get somebody to vouch for him as a guarantor. He found no one willing to help him so he had no other alternative but to do menial jobs to make two ends meet.
We all must have taken part in many meetings, discussions and awareness on many pertinent issues and celebration of important days like the World Disabled Day, but sadly all these celebration, meetings and awareness end with the meetings. Chief Minister after chief minister has promised to do something for the poor and the weaker sections of the society and promises were made to help and support differently-abled people, but in the end they are all but empty promises and they have to continue with their stories.
Sachin Tendulkar’s autobiography sold 2 lahks copies on the first few weeks of its release, but that is not the only story doing the rounds in the entire universe. There are other stories too that have not been told but you can see them if you only have the time to look at their faces. The next time you meet people who sell things to you, take time to look at their faces and remember each face has a story behind it. We are now at the onset of the festive season and during this season of goodwill let us spare a thought for the poor and the weaker sections of our society.