深夜心里话

Tonight, I was fixing my cycle bell by the light of a streetlamp, and this car—new, shiny, must be worth my sister’s entire college fund—splashed muddy water all over my tools. The driver didn’t even slow down, yaar. I just sat there, wiping the bell, thinking: some people treat the road like it’s theirs, and the rest of us just clean up after them. Bas, maybe that’s why I still believe in a system that works—if only someone honest would sit inside it and make it fair.

Sometimes I just look at my excel sheet full of pending cane payments, yaar. The numbers are all correct, but I know each row is a farmer waiting, and the system is just…sleeping. My chai goes cold thinking about it.

Bhai, raat ke 3:30 baje hain, chai ki tapkali chal rahi hai kitchen mein, aur bahar se kisi rickshaw wale ki ghanti ki awaaz aa rahi hai. Kal subah balcony mein tulsi ke patte toot ke gir gaye the — lagta hai koi bada pakshiyan tashreef le aayi thi. Bas, yeh chhoti-chhoti baatein hi toh hain jo is khatarnak dunia mein insaan ko thoda thehraav deti hain; par kabhi sochte ho, yeh sab izzat aur sukoon sirf unhi ko milna chahiye jo pocket heavy rakh sakte hain?

Jana Nayagan? I hear the name, and my first thought is of the old uncles on the treadmill — they don't care for big leaders or film heroes. Last monsoon, when the roof leaked, it was U Rambu who held the bucket while I patched it with tarpaulin. That's the kind of 'nayagan' I know. The one who shows up with a jingbishar of a leak and a cup of sha.

ఈ రాత్రి దుకాణం మూసేసి, పైన చప్టా మీద కూర్చుని ఇరానీ చాయ్ తాగుతున్నా. కొడుకు బిల్లు మళ్ళీ గుర్తొచ్చింది — కాలేజీ వాళ్ళు చెప్పిన ఫీజు లెక్కలో ఏదో అనుమానం, నాకు నమ్మకం లేదు. ఎప్పుడైనా సరే, మన స్వంత లెక్కలు, మన స్వంత దారి — అదే నిజం.

এঁকা আৱেগতা নিক্লে, মমোল্ অমসুং থাগী অমসু মাফম্দা য়াদরে। ঐরা ফাজরবদা এমা.এই.এফ.এফ.এদা হেন্-চেল্লোবা মনু অহম্গী মরম্দা লৈবাক্ পাম্দনা, মসী মতম্দগী মখোদা নহুম্জরি। আমগী মফম্ খুদিংসু য়াওরিবদু।

आज शाम दवा देते वक्त रास्ते में एक बच्ची रो रही थी क्योंकि उसके पापा का मोबाइल रिचार्ज नहीं हो पाया था — बीस रुपये का रिचार्ज। मन किया कहूँ, बेटा, ये देश अगर टैक्स को ईमानदारी से हर जेब से इकट्ठा करे, तो किसी के बच्चे को रिचार्ज के लिए न रोना पड़े। लेकिन फिर बिस्कुट निकाल दिए, और उसकी आँखें चमक गईं। रात को सोचता हूँ — काश यही चमक सरकारी दफ्तरों में भी दिखे।

The Odyssey? Yaar, the only odyssey I know is the 5:30 AM bus from Raipur to Durg—peach sky, forty minutes of quiet, and my bag full of leftover samosa from the canteen. Hope that film has a character who

My mother still insists on buying her fish from the old woman who sits near the ferry jetty, even though the barge owners raised their prices again this week. Makes me think of Abhijeet Dipke—another fellow who thinks a canal is his own private pipeline, while our prawns get pricier by the day and my jackfruit tree is the only thing giving without asking. In Goa, we say *susegad*, but that don't mean we should sleep while the few grab and the rest pay.

The stitch count for the peacock motif is one thread off, and it’s bothering me more than the news about the new mall. Bas, this small error under my lamp feels heavier than all their big promises, ji.

Hai rabba, that new boy from apartment 7 came running in just as I was closing—needed a single notebook for tomorrow’s maths test. His father’s been retrenched from the textile mill, so I gave him an old one from the damaged box. Reminded me: last week at the Sunday market, a woman was selling her wedding jhumkas for dal and roti. All this talk of *digital classrooms* doesn't fill a hungry stomach.

Vaah, the scooter repair bill came today. More than what I send to my daughter for her parhai in Ludhiana. Beta, this old machine has taken me through every lane of this village for forty years. But they call it progress when a new scooter costs a whole month's savings. Some changes leave us behind.

The old leg press machine gave up this evening — had to fix it with a cycle tube and some rope, baaga jugaad. My son would have ordered a new one online in two minutes, but here in the village we wait weeks for a spare part. Sometimes I think we are too patient, and that patience has a cost.