David hummed a mellifluous tune as he diligently polished Mr. Lobo’s shoes. The fourteen-year-old’s cheerfulness was so unusual and palpable that Mr. Lobo’s chauffeur, Henry, could not resist asking about his elated mood.
“I am going to get wealth soon,” chirped the boy, eliciting an amused response from Mr. Lobo and Henry.
“May I know how?” quipped Henry, trying to hide his amusement. David finished polishing the shoes and accepted the money for his work.
“Here is my gateway to richness,” David said, waving what looked like a jackpot ticket. Mr. Lobo, a reticent, broke into a smile upon seeing the innocent boy, but Henry could hardly control himself. He burst into peals of laughter.
“Do you think you will win a jackpot?” Henry acidly remarked and hurried away before David could reply, as Mr. Lobo had already taken his seat in the car.
“All the best!” Henry grinned at the boy.
‘Why can’t I win the jackpot? The soothsayer advised me to buy one ticket and said I would get some wealth,’ David meekly muttered as he carefully folded the ticket and placed it inside his small wooden box, which contained the items he used for polishing shoes.
‘I will have this confirmed with the soothsayer tomorrow. He should come to this side with his parrot and tarot cards.‘ David’s eyes gleamed at the thought of winning the jackpot. The results were a fortnight later.
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I always wished to epitomize my Dad. He was the kind of gentleman all growing boys would love to mingle with in adolescence. He would never impose his views on me nor dictate things to my mother. We had always been a happy family of three.
My father worked as a supervisor in a factory. He may not have earned a considerable income, but we lived on whatever money came into the house. My mother handled things with thriftiness.
My parents gave me whatever I needed, never letting me complain or yearn for something.
Everything was going fine, but unfortunately, my father became a victim of a massive retrenchment program in the factory and was given the pink slip when I was in my final year of graduation.
With six more years left in service, Dad was heartbroken to have been laid off just like that with less-than-laudable compensation.
Dad decided to try his luck in the central city, where he said he had an old friend who was well-established.
Our small, cozy life crumpled like a pack of cards. Father went away to the city, leaving me and my mother, promising to return with some positive news. Even if he successfully found something worthwhile, we could only move in with him after I graduated, another six months later.
When Dad returned after a couple of months, he was a changed man. He said his friend had helped him financially, and he had bought a restaurant in the heart of the city, and his business was flourishing.
“I have purchased an apartment too,” he beamed. My mother’s eyes widened in awe.
“When do we need to return your friend’s money?” she asked, her tone mixed with fear and apprehension.
“Don’t worry about that,” Dad said, waving nonchalantly. “He is a very good friend of mine and has told me to take my time. He is keener on me establishing myself well first.”
I was overwhelmed thinking of my life ahead in a metropolitan city. I could explore avenues to amass some post-graduate degrees.
So, we landed in the vast city the following year with dreams in our eyes.
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David was disappointed that the soothsayer had not turned up to affirm his prophecy. Only last month had David keenly observed the soothsayer, who would come every Thursday with his tarot cards and a parrot.
People paid him ten rupees; he used to coax his parrot to lift a card from the scrambled pile. With its beautifully carved red beak, the parrot removed a tarot card. Whatever was written on the card sealed the destiny of the guy who paid the ten rupees.
David would not have squandered his hard-earned money had he not overheard two men talk about how accurate the tarot reading was.
“You know, the parrot picked a card that said I would soon get what is rightfully mine, and then I won the property case against my half-brother—the one that had been pending in the court for two years.” One of the men informed the other.
“Oh? This is a genuine tarot reading by the soothsayer. I must avail myself of his service whenever the need crops up.” The second man spoke.
Then, David dug into his ragged pant pocket and removed a ten rupee note. The tarot card reader called for his parrot.
“Come here, my loving pet, remove a card for this charming lad,” he said, twirling his mustache. The parrot hopped for a while as David’s heart beat fast. A small crowd gathered to see what the card read when the parrot picked it up with his beak.
“Ah, my son, it says soon you will get some wealth.”
A few in the crowd guffawed, eliciting displeasure from the soothsayer.
“Don’t fool around with my parrot’s choice of cards. Mark my words; this boy will get some wealth.” He said, his voice showing his displeasure at the laughing men.
“He is a shoe polishing guy; from where do you expect him to acquire wealth?” A man who was still laughing asked.
“Hey, there, do you have some property issues pending in the court?” The man who had just ascertained that he had won a property case spoke with sarcasm reeking in his tone.
The soothsayer noticed David’s face turning pale.
“Don’t worry, son. You will get wealth. Why don’t you buy a lottery ticket?” the soothsayer advised. “If you do not win, I shall return your money.” He promised, kindling a hope in David’s heart.
Now David was sure that the soothsayer had spoken the truth. Otherwise, why would he offer to return the money if his words weren’t valid?
Still determining the cost of a lottery ticket, David walked with heavy steps. For the next fortnight, he worked at different venues until it was dark. He relentlessly polished as many pairs of shoes as he could. David was able to amass the money needed for a lottery ticket.
His heart did a little prance; the orphan boy purchased a ticket with dreams of becoming wealthy.
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I was more than awestruck to see the vast city. What a run of luck we had to have landed in a place as expansive and beautiful as this city! It was a veritable storehouse of opportunities. I had decided to enroll myself in a college of law. It had been my long-cherished dream to pursue studies in the legal field.
Business was booming in the restaurant. It was in the middle of an IT hub, so my father used to get customers during the day and at night. He would manage the restaurant during the day while he appointed a manager for the night. Due to heavy demand, the restaurant had to be open all twenty-four hours. Sunday was the only day my father found time to spend with us.
I couldn’t help but marvel at how Dad had diligently grasped the intricacies of running a restaurant, a field that had never been a part of his life while he toiled in the factory in our hometown. I was sure he must have sweated it out, going to different eateries and learning how to run a restaurant in such a vast city.
Needless to say, there was a copious flow of money. Even after paying all his employees and the bills, my father was left with a substantial amount—our kitty was overflowing. My father was planning to buy a bigger house nearer to the restaurant so that commuting would be easy for him, and then the time saved in commuting could be utilized to enhance his business.
However, destiny had other plans for us. While I had made all the arrangements to join the law college, my father fell extremely sick. With no dearth of money, we were in a comfortable position to consult the best doctors in the city.
Neither was my father able to explain what was troubling him, nor were the umpteen tests and scans able to diagnose his ailment. His health kept deteriorating just like that. Me and my mother helplessly watched him as my father turned into a mass of bones. His eyes were sunken, and his arms and legs were turning fragile. Food intake had become meager. At fifty-six, he looked like a man standing at the threshold, being called a septuagenarian.
“Mark, you might have to take care of the restaurant. Your father is not in sound health to continue with the work. Running a restaurant is not easy. Will you be able to manage?” My mother held my hands and implored.
I knew going to the restaurant would cause a road closure for my further studies. A post-graduate law degree required me to be present during all the lectures.
However, there was no question of my denying my mother. Dad and Mom have stretched beyond their capacity to make me what I am today. My urge to study further had to be curbed since my presence was more assuring to my parents. I took the reins of running the restaurant, though I was naïve and needed the guidance of the manager.
Dad had taken to bed soon. More disaster followed as he suffered from a severe stroke and lost his speech.
Why would God be so heartless to bring about such a situation in our life? Various unknown ailments severely debilitated Dad. I cried often. It felt heart breaking to see umpteen tubes precariously hanging from and to his body. All that was left of him were bones, but his eyes kept hovering, and it looked like he wished to say something.
“Don’t we have to trace the friend who helped your father establish the restaurant? We need to pay him back his money. Maybe that is what is troubling your father.” Mom kept reminding me. I tried to find out from Dad about his friend’s whereabouts, but all I could see were tears flowing from his eyes. He was not in a position to share any contact details with us. He frantically tried to convey something to me and my mom, but we failed to understand.
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David waited patiently outside the lottery stall for the vendor to open it. The prize was to be announced that day. However, the vendor who had asked David to come and check the draw did not turn up. As the boy loitered aimlessly, he found a lone man browsing the newspaper. David was aware that the results would be printed in the newspaper. He requested the man to check his lottery results. With a smile, the man tallied the ticket number with the draw. David noticed that the expression on the man’s face was changing. Eventually, the man sighed and shook his head vigorously. “Sorry, son, no luck,” he said, pouting.
The color drained out of David’s face. He had spent fifty rupees on a ticket by cutting his meals for five days, and then he trusted the soothsayer.
David’s eyes brimmed with tears. Suddenly, through his blurred eyes, he saw the man taking his lottery ticket and running towards the main road. In a flash of a second, David realized he had won the lottery, and the man was trying to usurp the prize money.
David unthinkingly ran after the man, who sprinted through the crowd. Not paying attention to the booming traffic, David crossed the road and was hit by a speeding car.
The chauffeur driving the car came out and looked at David.
“Sir, this is David, who polishes shoes under the bridge.” Mr. Lobo came out of the car and looked at the bleeding boy. There was a severe injury on David’s head. Even before the crowd could create a ruckus, Mr. Lobo gracefully asked Henry to put the boy inside the car and drive to a hospital; even though the driver was not at fault, David had jumped the signal and was running at full speed without noticing the car.
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I walked into the restaurant with a heavy heart. Today, Dad was finding it very difficult to breathe. The doctors said they would have to keep him on a ventilator if this kind of health persists. Mom was in the hospital with him throughout the day, and I would go in the night to be by his side.
Sitting on the chair at the restaurant’s counter, I longingly stared at the photograph of my parents that I had kept in my wallet.
My eyes turned misty as I saw my dad’s cheerful face. He had always had a pleasant countenance. Even in the face of adversity, my father never frowned. He took things in his stride and amicably solved any issues. He was known for his benevolence among his co-workers, ready to lend a helping hand to anyone in need. I silently prayed to the Lord, beseeching Him to spare a generous soul.
What harm had he done to anyone to be punished thus? I also felt a sense of responsibility in tracing Dad’s friend, who had been so helpful. He might not have pressurized Dad to return his money immediately, but funding for such a posh restaurant might have involved huge money. It has to be returned. I prayed to the Lord again to guide me to locate that person instrumental in making our lives prosperous.
There were very few customers at the restaurant. It was a public holiday, so most of the offices were shut. The weather, too, was inclement, with an unseasonal rain. Due to Dad’s health condition, the downpour added to the gloom already clustering my mind. Mom had been looking tired and drained physically and emotionally.
By lunchtime, a gentleman walked into the restaurant accompanied by an adolescent boy with a limp. Having nothing much to do, I spoke with the two, who I assumed were father and son.
I couldn’t stop asking about the boy’s limping and a conspicuous scar on his head.
“Well, it was an accident. He dashed against my car; my driver was behind the wheels, ” the man said.
“He is not your son?” I enquired, raising my brows.
The man shook his head. “He is an orphan who used to earn a living by polishing shoes. I was one of his regular customers, ” the gentleman said, introducing himself as Mr. Lobo, the owner of a printing press and the boy as David.
“Why did you run through the busy road?” I asked, looking at David. He did not answer, but tears had filled his eyes.
“David had asked a man to check his lottery results, a ticket he had got by cutting on his food.” Mr. Lobo said.’ “However, that scalawag pretended that David had not won the lottery but ran away with the ticket. Guessing that his lottery had won a prize, David chased him but met with an accident, dashing against my car as my driver drove towards my printing press.”
“Did you not try to trace that unscrupulous man?” I asked, my voice trembling in anger.
“David was unconscious for many days. After surgery, when he regained consciousness, I learned about all that had happened. But what could we do? Where could we trace that man? He might have left with the money.” Mr. Lobo sighed. “Only David can recognize him.” He heaved an agonizing sigh, which indicated that all was lost.
“Though it was not my chauffeur’s mistake, I took it upon myself to properly treat David. His head and leg were injured. The surgery involved a huge amount; hence, I had to sell my printing press. But by God’s grace, I will start a new one soon. David will work in the press. It will be difficult for him to polish shoes sitting down with an injured leg.”
When I heard the boy’s sad story, my eyes turned misty. I marveled at the gentleman’s magnanimous heart. Not only had he taken it upon himself to treat the kid after what could be termed as a pure accident due to the boy’s mistake, but he had also offered him security by employing him in his printing press.
‘Even Dad might have acted similarly during such a situation. Known for his selflessness.’ I thought
“Here,” Mr. Lobo said, handing over a visiting card. “Do come to my press for the inauguration this Sunday and for any printing work after that.”
I opened my wallet to keep the card when suddenly David began quivering. His finger pointed to the photograph of my parents. His eyes spoke of untold agony. Words became redundant as my father’s honest frame dissolved in my tearful eyes. I felt like an alien in the restaurant.
Lord had answered my prayers; I had found the person instrumental in making us prosperous. At least I would die with a clean heart.
This Story was published in WRECKOLLECTIONS