In pursuit of barilliant barain!

Ram Avadh was a paan shop owner. His shop was the epicenter of the hustle bustle of all intellectual talks pertaining to the street, city, and the country. He had a family of three including him. His wife and his 6 years old son completed his world. 

Many people used to come to his small but busy shop that he used to manage with a minion named Tirlochan, who was from his village and had come to the city in search of satisfying his fondness for watching new Bollywood movies every Friday. He was a sucker for hindi film magazines also because it had steamy pictures of movie heroines.

Moving on,Ram Avadh was not that highly educated, he could complete the education only till class sixth and that too can’t be said as completed because he flunked in the annual exams three times on the trot so he said good bye to the studies after the third and last attempt. After that, he joined a small gang from his village that used to steal hens and goats in and around the village. One time he got caught while in the act and the police beat him black and blue.

After that he said good bye to the gang also, though they pressurized him to come and rejoin the gang he declined the offer. Fearing any backlash from the gang, his father decided to send him to his cousin (brother) who was an auto rickshaw driver in the city. This was where he developed a liking for paan and with the help of his uncle he opened a paan shop. Now he was well settled in the business.

Ram Avadh wanted to make his only son an engineer. But the govt. school, where he went to, considered his son a weak student at numbers. He wanted to change this situation of his son. He would like him to be a number cruncher. There was one person, who was a teacher at a coaching institute for engineering and medical preparations, who used to frequent his shop for having cigarette puffs.

One day,Ram Avadh decided to ask him questions about engineering : “How one can become an injineer saar? I have heard that you make injineers in your askool.”

“Well we prepare them for engineering examinations and can proudly say that our students have done marvelously well in entrance exams.”

“Intrance igjams? Bhaat iz entrance igjams…you mean you doesn’t make injineers …you only prepare them for intrance igjams?” asked puzzled Ram Avadh crushing on paan leaves under his stony dentures.

“Look Ram Avadh, entrance exams are like doors that open the world of engineering schools…if you pass the exam you will get admission in the engineering schools,” explained the teacher.

“Bhaat is the prize of preparation saar?” asked Ram Avadh.

“Price… you mean fees, the fee ranges from 1 lakh to 1.5 lakhs depending on the courses students choose.”

“1.5 lakh! Oh my gode… if only you prepare for injineering  igjaams, then bhaat do askools do in so many years( from class one to class twelve) that a chaaild is at the askool… I have heard that they also charge heavy amount for studies… is it not their responsibility to prepare a chaaild for ingineering intrance  igjams?”

The teacher got startled at the innocent but pricking question from the nincompoop and innocuous looking person. In the meanwhile, another customer came and Ram Avadh got busy with him and the teacher got a chance to escape the embarrassing situation of answering the innocent but thought provoking questions of the Paanwallah.

Amid the catering and serving to the customers, Ram Avadh kept searching for ways to increase the mental ability of his son. Someone told him about a newspaper advertisement in which a doctor had claimed to make brain of a child sharp given he/she is under 10 years of age. For more details the address was given to be visited. Ram Avadh decided to go to the place and meet the doctor. The place was away from the city. So, he assigned the responsibility of the shop to Tirlochan and took one day of time off from his business.

He took his wife and his son with him to the journey in pursuit of a brilliant brain. His wife Phoolmani was from his neighboring village and was as docile as expected. She followed her husband to a tee. After going to 50 Kilometers by bus they had to walk on foot for another 2 kilometers. They saw fruit born trees, translucent pond, and a Devi temple on the hill through their journey to their destination.

His wife and his child were enjoying the scenic beauty through and through. Since he considered his wife innocent in the ways of the world and many a times had called her a ‘Phoolis ledi’, was happy to see that amid the strong wind she had managed to keep her pallu clinging to her head.

Savoring the beauty of nature, he reached the destination. There was an imposing building surrounded by the big trees of teak and Jamun. There were many SUVs parked outside the gate. There were a handful of well -dressed parents with their children looking gentlemen and gentlewomen in every right. This gave a sense of inferiority to Ram Avadh. He had never visited any such place in life where people from upper echelon consisted major part of the crowd. He dithered to enter the main gate of the building but he didn’t want to show any signs of anxiety on his face either as this would have belittled him in the eyes of his  ‘phoolis ledi’ aka his wife. So, breathing deeply and summoning some courage he entered the building.

The place had squeaky clean marbles but these he had seen in Banks and Post Offices too, so these didn’t intimidate him. Encouraged, he moved to the reception desk and asked for an appointment with the doctor. The expression of receptionist was an amalgamation of amusement and surprise to see the simpleton guys at the place. The simple dressing of Kurta payjama and  Sutee Saree were a far cry from snazzy suits and silk sarees that sahibs and memsahibs were wearing. They were sartorially a misfit and this they were being made to feel by the scanning eyes of other visitors.

After an hour or so their number came.

“Dakter Sahib, my son is beek at maths and numbers…I have heard that you make barilliant barain, could you paliz make my chaaild’s barain sharp?” asked Ram Avadh.

“Yes…I can do it but it will take some huge money… what do you do for a living?” asked the doctor.

“I am a biznessman saar, I have a paan sop,” replied Ram Avadh.

“I think then it will be tough for you to avail our services financially…I mean such are our charges.”

The reply of the doctor made him feel dejected and he saw in the eyes of his wife for some consolation.

“Bhaat bood be total cost of making barain sharper saar?” enquired Ram Avadh.

“Look… since the brain sharpening therapy continues for five years it costs around 5 lakhs. It means some 8,000 odd rupees per month.”

“8,000 rupeez per month!”

“See, if you could manage at least 7000 per month I can start the treatment of your child. Look once your child’s brain gets sharper, he will do great in life, he will make 1 lakh just in a month… he will go to foreign countries and make big money,“ explained doctor about the bright avenues that could be awaiting his child.

“Bat, bhaat is the gaaranty that my son will become a good human being after making money?… I hab heard about rape of booman in India… bood my son be able to be a man ,after you treatment, who respects  a booman, I have also read that sons who make money, leave their parents for the attraction of foreign land and return only when their parents have died or reduced to skeleton. I baant a eemosnally and mentally responsible human being not a eerresponsible money minting masine. ”

The doctor didn’t have any answer to the blunt questions of Phoolmani.

Ram Avadh didn’t expect such intellekchual sentences from the mouth of his phoolis ledi. For the first time in life he was in awe of his wife.

They left the room of the doctor after Phoolmani made him mute.

Ram Avadh came out of the building a more confident man than he was before entering it. He was proud of his wife. But one thing that was still bothering him was that from where did his wife knew so much about the ways of the world? 

Though he had a TEE.BHEE at his house but he liked mostly the movie and music channels and he had never seen his wife watching news channels while he was at home. Anyways, listening to and watching news channels demanded some sort of intelligence, that he was sure that his wife lacked severely. He always found her busy preparing food, washing cloths and making paper bags (thonga) that he had himself introduced his wife to, to earn some more money in a month.

“How do you know about these things, I have never seen you baach neuz channels?” asked a puzzled and bit embarrassed (because he used to think her a phoolis ledi) Ram Avadh.

“ I baach news channels when you are not at home otherwise you bood hab said that I banted to become kueen bictoria… and I also read the newspapers that you bring to make paper bags(thonga), these heinous and filthy accounts are there  on everyday basis in Tee.Bhee and newspapers,” replied Phoolmani with utter innocence sans any airs of intellectuality.

The travel to this faraway place had been an enriching experience and an opportunity for self- exploration for Ram Avadh. He had come here with perception of a  ‘phoolis ledi’ but returning with perception of  an ‘eentelijhent ledi’  and a caring mother about his wife. The intelligent aspect of his wife was quite like unraveling of a mystery for him.

 “If a mother is so eentelijhent in the ways of the world…she bood surely be able to shape a responsible barain…and a responsible barain is most in the need of our times than a barilliant barain,” ruminated an enlightened Ram Avadh returning back to his home. And during the return he didn’t care much if the pallu of his wife slipped from her head.

“Maa, maa….eroplane!” exclaimed the son.  “Someday, I bood like to be on that plane maa with you and papa,” expressed the son.

“Yes sure, we bood be on that plane provided you do all the hard work…promise me you bood do everything sincerely in your life, be it studies or sports or music,” demanded Phoolmani.

“Yes,sure maa, I promise,” said son waving  ‘Lufthansa plane’ that sowed one more seed in tender eyes to touch the sky!

#TheBlindList    #SayYesToTheWorld

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