The five rupees.
This experience of mine is from somewhere between 1990 and 1991. Due to certain family issues, my dad had to move out of his ancestral house. The sudden shift from a joint family to a nuclear family was tough for my parents, especially on the financial front. Now that I’m old enough and have a child of my own, I now see the financial crunch and the frustrations associated with it. I now understand that mom was not angry but was frustrated, angry, helpless, and sad. Now I understand. Let me share an experience with you, which was just an experience then but now a lesson.
I need to introduce two characters. One was my aunt, a rich husband’s rich wife, and the other was my Neighbour, a poor vegetable vendor who used to sell vegetables on a pushing cart.
So, one day, the rich auntie came to my house when my mom asked me to fetch some groceries from a shop at the end of my lane. I was given some money by my mom, and after the purchase, the shopkeeper gave me 5. I tucked the five rupees into an open pocket in my frock. The six-year-old me held the groceries in one hand and ran back home, running and jumping all the way. I gave the groceries to my mom, and horror struck me when I saw my empty pocket. I know what’s there in it for me. So, I volunteered to find that ₹5 and my rich aunt decided to be the head of the search party. I know what happens if I go empty handed, and I also know that I will go empty handed. I was silently praying for my aunt to save me by donating five rupees from her expensive purse. Unfortunately, my prayers were not answered that day (how could they be answered when Lucifer himself was there with me as the head of the search party, ensuring that I would not find the money. And what followed was every child’s fate of my generation. Lucifer- 1; Swetha – 0
A couple of days later, my brother and I were sent out to bring a pack of broken wheat to make upma. I don’t remember the weight of the contents, but the cost was ₹10. We walked down the street, went to the shop, got the item, and since we did not have mobiles to keep us busy while walking, we just did what our generation’s kids did. We fought. We wrestled, and my brother hit me on the head with the packet of broken wheat. The next thing I knew was that I was covered with broken wheat. My first thought was, “welcome to the double dose, brother!” And clearly, I saw him panic. I wanted to tell him that every action has an equal and opposite reaction, but somehow this opposite reaction would be much greater than Newton ever expected.
Just then, my neighbor, whose name I don’t remember, was coming back after a long day of selling on the cart. He saw us, I mean me, covered in broken wheat, and understood the situation immediately. That’s when I saw my brother breakdown and, between his sobs, explained the situation to our neighbour. The gentle man (Devine intervention) immediately took out the ₹10 from his cashbox, gave it to my brother and asked to buy another packet and go home, as if nothing happened. My brother vowed that he would save all his pocket money (which was Ps. 50/day) and return it to him. I vividly remember my neighbour brushing those words away.
