Sweep
The police constable’s boot goes straight for Seenu’s jaw.
*Thwack*
It’s a sickening sound and a quarter of the coach I am in turns around to see where it came from. I am 3 ft away from it.
There’s a howl of pain for an instant. Then silence. The rhythmic clack of steel on steel suddenly roars. Dies. And roars again.
“How dare you enter these coaches? Have I told you before not to come here?”, booms the constable.
“But aiyya, where else will I earn my money?”
“I don’t care. Get out of this coach now and this train at the next stop”, the boot swinging into position.
“That’s quite enough. I’ll make sure he leaves the coach at Hindupur”. The constable looks at me in disbelief for a second. Then storms off to the next coach.
Seenu, with one arm and two missing legs nods and says “Dhanyam, aiyya”. The bruise on his jaw
****
Outside, the landscape in stunning. Makalidurga and the hills surrounding it are the gateway to Bangalore. Small tomato farms are dotted around large vineyards that’ll soon yield some of the best wine in the country.
Seenu is back from cleaning the coach. His tool? The shirt that he presently dusts off against the wall, flicks a stubborn hairball from the collar and puts it back on. It’s tattered at the back. I give him a 10 rupee note.
“Thanks again aiyya for saving me”
“It’s OK. I did what I had to do. Inhuman to treat anything that way”
“I have to face this everyday. At least today I get one less slap and 20 rupees more in earning.”
He looks longingly at the stump of his arm.
“God gives and god takes away, no, saar? I was a bhel-puri seller earning 100 rupees a day on this route until 5 years ago. Now see.”
He flaps trouser legs where his calf and feet would have been.
“What happened?”
“I fell down just outside Penukonda while changing bogies. No one saw me go down, so when I became conscious again, I had to drag myself half a km to the level crossing gate. There after 2 hrs some ambulance came and took me to hospital, but too late to save my arm and legs. Doctor said some infection.”
“I was lucky train was slow else I would have died”, he looks at me wistfully.
“But sometimes I wish I was dead. What can a one armed person do in life saar? What can a one armed person do.”
Three more of his buddies join him. One guy has both his leg tethered like a head of cattle. Another has both arms missing.
Soon there is laughter and money counting. I hear one of them go “Treat, maamu, treat!”
****
Hindupur. Screeching halt. Seenu hauls himself off the coach and onto the platform. He looks around, turns and drags himself down the concrete. The constable is nowhere to be seen. The tattered shirt fluttering in the strong breeze.
