Short Story: No One Asked

In this short story, Aromal VS takes us to the crowded lanes of Mumbai to witness life passing through as people keep struggling to keep up and survive.

2013

CSMT , Mumbai

Mumbai is busier than usual. A lot of cars, buses, and bikes are waiting for the green light at the city’s main signal.A race of people running from all corners and nowhere is about to begin here. Just next to it is the railway station, which fills the city with life. The sound of the train from there startled the little boy who was sleeping, leaning against the wall near the signal.

He must have been around 13 years old, with a tall, thin body. The sight of him sitting there, covered in a blanket, sleepy, was not new. Not only near CSMT, but in any corner of Mumbai, we can see a lot of people running non-stop, like the little hands of a clock.

Some people are walking along the side of the city, carrying leather bags, looking at their watches without expression, followed by small children holding their mothers’ hands with half-awake faces. On the other side, delivery boys with online-ordered breakfasts are making a great effort to get to the front of the line. So, many people are hurrying in different directions or waiting for the signal.

The black and yellow taxis behind had already honked their horns loudly. It could be said that it was the sound of the signal changing. After a wait of 80 seconds, the signal finally turned green. As the cars in front began honking and moved forward, the little boy, knowing it was time, put the blanket he was wearing back into his bag.

A street dog nearby came up to him curiously, sniffed him, and then moved away. Through the mirror of the taxi parked in front of him, he saw himself, all covered in silver.The sight wasn’t all that new to him; he had seen many of his friends in the same situation before. But what was new this time was the horrible itch on his back caused by that cheap silver paint, which was truly a new experience for him.He solved the problem by slowly rubbing against the wall behind him. But the Prime Minister’s smile on the poster on the wall, asking people to vote for tomorrow’s India, seemed to fade away, because the silver color was spread on his face like a black flag on his candidate.Soon another red signal appeared. The road was filled with people and vehicles in no time. He took a position next to an iron bar used for people to cross the road. His target was actually the people crossing the road.

The instructions were that the place, the time, and even the way they stood should be such that they could catch people’s attention. Even before another green signal came, the little boy stood like a small statue. If you ignore his small, thin belly slowly taking in air, he was truly a small statue. The aluminum container placed below was as empty as the minds of some of the people passing by.Many people passed through that crossing, but not a single person stopped there. Many eyes looked curiously from the school bus that had come up behind. Many people walking down that street, people in cars and many others passing through the signal looked at him and moved on. The aluminum container lay alone on the street, even with many phone cameras clicking around, it stayed silent for hours.

The traffic signals flashed green and red several times. The sun, moving toward noon, made the silver color on his body look dry in places, like cracks without water.

A familiar voice slowly reached him through the continuous noises . With tired eyes, she slowly walked towards him, her hands full of newspapers and flags.

“Hi.”

She gestured with her hand in a way he could understand. The small statue, standing like the main Gandhi statue in the city, slowly moved its eyes and looked at her. They slowly moved away from the signal.

“I didn’t get anything today, look, I have everything I brought,” she said, showing him the things in her hand. He listened to her complaint, looking at her tired, worn-out eyes.He slowly turned back and reached for his bowl. He pointed to the bowl, which had only 2 or 3 coins in it, and looked at her mockingly, then slowly laughed. She, not knowing why, forgot all the troubles she had been through for so long and slowly covered her mouth and laughed.

“Ah, then… Did you see Malik?”

She moved the newspaper in her hand to the side of the wall and gestured with her hand as she spoke.“What happened?” he asked, gesturing with his hand.

“I don’t know… I haven’t seen him for a few days. No one knows where he is. Those who were with him say different things. Some say he ran away from here and escaped, some say he was taken somewhere, and some say he has died.”

She replied while picking up the newspapers she had placed on the ground. Although she spoke slowly, through the pauses in her voice, he understood the seriousness of the matter.

“He was a good friend of mine,”

he replied, placing his hand on his chest.

Even though the horns blared continuously nearby, silence lay between them like a calm stretch next to the wall.“I should go now…” she said, putting a full stop to their brief conversation.

He slowly nodded as if saying “Alright.” Placing the remaining newspapers in the bag slung over her shoulder, she walked away slowly. He stayed there, near the wall, without returning to his spot.

Malik… he didn’t even know that Malik had come here, yet from the moment he arrived, he was someone he had noticed. Hearing the name, one would think of someone around twenty, yet he was a playful spirit not even seventeen. They weren’t very close, but the two of them had always shared familiar smiles. Although Malik was two or three years older, he was someone who treated him well within the group. The absence of such a person and why he hadn’t noticed it earlier kept troubling the thirteen-year-old boy’s mind continuously.

That news truly affected him, and many kinds of thoughts ran through his mind. Why hadn’t he seen Munna Bhai in the morning to give food? Why was someone else lying in Malik’s spot? How did he end up in this disguise? All these questions ran through his small mind.

Had he just missed seeing him now, or had it been many days already?Were they hiding this so that no one would know? Many questions ran through his mind, rising and falling like waves. The silver paint on his body had only caused a slight unease before, but now it felt like a weight not just on him, but on his mind as well.

Even though he had acted like a statue for hours, in the last two minutes he had truly felt like one. A mix of fear and anxiety about what had passed and what was yet to come shook his small mind deeply.

Even as the two hours slowly stretched into four hours, the small statue remained there. The people passing by and the coins lying empty in his tray did not bother him. Once again, the red light at the signal turned on. As usual, countless vehicles passed behind it without any pause.The vehicle that came last really caught his attention. It was a lorry unlike any he had ever seen there before. On top, a large board had writing in some language, and below the driver, inside a frame, was a photo showing Ganapati, Jesus, and a church together, with small colored lights continuously flashing around it. The strange sight of that photo made him stare slowly, amazed.

In this country, where people claim that every group has its own gods to worship and protect them, seeing a single vehicle carrying all three figures together sparked great curiosity in the little boy. His wide, awake eyes stared carefully at the lorry.On the side of the lorry, he carefully tried to read the small letters written there. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t make them out. Apart from Hindi and English, the writing in that other language didn’t even let him guess its meaning.

Slowly, the number plate below caught his attention. He had cleaned the glass of so many vehicles and sold newspapers from many, yet this number plate really grabbed his focus.

“KL 24 B 3650”

The numbers weren’t new to him, but the “KL” in front caught his eye.

What could KL mean?

Questions about where it had come from slowly settled in his little mind.

A lorry he had never seen before, in the middle of a signal full of MH plates, among the vehicles speeding past with “Jai Ram” stickers it was completely strange to see all three gods being carried together.

Where exactly had this come from?

Where was it going?

These two questions kept running through his mind.

The vehicles started moving forward, and so did the lorry behind them. Watching the slowly moving lorry ahead, he asked himself,

“Could this be some kind of sign?”

“Could Malik have been like this too, if he had gone?”

He stayed there, watching the lorry that had passed the signal. A sense of belief surged inside him that there were people and a language he had never seen before out there somewhere. He quickly wiped his face with a black banyan from his bag. With one eye, he watched the lorry slowly moving away, and with the other, he stared at the silver paint sliding off his face, steadying himself quickly. With ten seconds left for the next signal, he ran along that side of the road. Almost like a mad rush, he ran at full speed. Although everyone around was slightly startled, they gave way as the boy, his whole body covered in silver paint, ran shouting past them. The sound of his running slowly faded into the distance, yet his legs didn’t get tired. He kept running, focused on the lorry ahead. That lorry had already passed the signal turn toward Bandra and moved even faster from there.

The light passing through his eyes felt intense, and the people and vehicles ahead looked dim and blurry. More than the noise of the vehicles, he could hear his fast heartbeat and breathing. Despite all this, he didn’t look down; his focus was entirely on the lorry ahead. Along the side of the road, he saw a boy his age being scolded by his mother and father. He watched, feeling a little pain, as the boy cried without stopping. Then he just kept running.

“Even if he’s crying, there are people to comfort and scold him.”

Seeing that blurred scene during his run, he said this to himself as he kept moving.Even though it was a city he had lived in for a few days, the sights he saw while running just for a short time were very strange and different.

Day and night, children came to the vehicles to sell small items. Countless hands, ignoring the people, offered flowers and hot offerings to stone idols, spreading hundreds and thousands of things.He ran along with him with a kind of curiosity, noticing that the eyes and hands that gave money and received blessings, even in places made with mirror shards and buildings of various kinds, were the ones who had passed by without even looking through the car’s rearview mirror. The thought that it was better to run away from this world that values buildings and sculptures more than humans kept telling him from within to keep running without stopping. A kind of guilt followed him too, the feeling that, from the corners of this city where countless people roamed like him, he was escaping on his own without showing them the way to survive.The lorry had gone far ahead of his eyes. Even though he thought of stopping with his mind, his legs would not allow it. Something, impossible to turn back to, gripped him and pushed him forward without letting him stop.

“After all this time, having gotten nothing from this city, what am I going to get now?”

“Even though there are those who can be counted on one’s fingers, what is the meaning of this run without asking his loved ones for the journey?”

With heavy breaths, countless thoughts passed through his mind. At the moment when his mind and body both began to tell him to stop, he saw a sight he had longed for most in his life. The lorry he had targeted ran along the far lane of a long, empty road. For a brief moment, his little heart felt like thanking God, but his legs, which had carried him without stopping, would not let him. They pushed him forward.

The run, which lasted for about ten minutes, brought him close to the lorry. Holding tightly onto the iron bar of the slowly shaking vehicle, he gave a small leap. Even if his throat was dry, he kept himself from stopping. The lorry was completely covered with a dark blue tarp, tied tightly at every corner with ropes. He struggled hard to pull the small part that had extended beyond the front of the lorry. The vibrations from the engine traveled quickly from the rope into his hands. After a brief struggle, he loosened the small rope and, through a narrow opening, climbed into the lorry. Though he could hear people walking on both sides, whispering about him to each other, he was completely unaware of it.

Darkness. Terrifying darkness all around, though a little light came in through tiny openings, most of the darkness was filled everywhere. It felt to him as if the wheels were moving slowly; targeting the small part he had passed through, he inched forward through the darkness. The skin below his waist stretched across his body, but he did not delay and pushed himself through that small opening. Like moving from one small shore to another, his eyes stayed fixed on that signal without blinking. The vehicles passing ahead were slowly captured by his small eyes.

This was one of the many signals he had waited for, the red light he had been counting on until now. Through it, as he sent the little boy wandering with all his belongings and clothes on a journey, the signal turned green. No one on the street saw those small eyes peeking out through the tarp, but a machine filled with hundreds of LED lights saw him and blinked.

The red lights, which stopped many fast-moving vehicles behind him, guided his journey.

“Hey udoo bosadeekke…”

“Heyy sala, madhachood.”

The shout, stomping on the small tin pot, passed straight into the little boy’s ears. A flash ran through his body, making him shiver all over. Sweat ran down from his neck. He slowly looked around. Smelling the diesel that entered his nose and facing the grease-filled machines ahead, he gave a small leap.

Even if he didn’t know where he had slept or where he was now, he must have been well aware that he had moved far away from the city. Hiding the fear inside, he slowly closed his eyes.He slowly climbed out from under the lorry. Though moving slowly, he turned his eyes and looked at the place. He could see many lorries. Slowly, he took a good look at the lorry he had been on. Yes, it was the same vehicle he had climbed, but he had no idea how he had ended up under it. The parts of his body that had been covered in silver were now coated with dirt. Carefully, he brushed the dust off his body and slowly walked forward. A little ahead, some people wearing red shirts were watching him, but he paid no attention and kept moving.

The sun stood at its strongest, but its heat did not affect him. He could hardly believe his eyes as he walked forward from the ground full of lorries. A small town where he couldn’t see any large billboards. A quiet little place with no honking, where vehicles didn’t stop. Slowly, he could see on the small boards around him words written in the same language he had seen on the vehicles. Moving forward through the quiet streets of the town, people around him watched with a kind of curiosity. More than the boards in a language he couldn’t understand, what amazed him was that he couldn’t even see a single human statue resembling those on the streets. Even though his throat had grown dry after hours of travel , his eyes kept searching the streets, as if looking for friends.

Truly, the sense of relief that sight gave him was not small. He stopped in front of a nearby shop and looked at the white bottles of different colors reflected in the front glass. Slowly, he checked his pocket and found that the little piece of rope from the lorry contained nothing. In the rush of the journey, he had forgotten to take the money he had sweated for. Not knowing what to do or what to say, he stood there. The thirst inside him was the only thing that held him in place; he didn’t know the language, didn’t know what to say, yet it was that inner desire that kept him there. Even though it wasn’t a very busy shop, the owner quickly noticed him standing in front for a while. After a moment, he came forward and gestured with his hand, as if saying, “What is it? Go from here.” The shopkeeper repeated it several times, but he remained silent and stayed there.

“Hey, poda,” the man said, raising his voice slightly, but his reply was still silent. Noticing the attention of the people around, the shopkeeper went inside, took some money from his shelf, and handed it toward him. “Here, Take it…”Without saying a word, he kept looking at the man. The shopkeeper placed the small coins into his hand, again gesturing as if saying, “Go from here,” without stopping. Without replying, he gave the money in his hand back to the shopkeeper and pointed at the white bottle behind him. Without even glancing at it, the shopkeeper gently pushed him aside.The people around noticed this and watched him with a mix of curiosity and sympathy, but no one came close or tried to intervene. These actions were not new to him; ignoring everyone, he walked forward toward the coins in his hand.His body was completely covered in silver, and with the sweat-soaked, torn shirt, he crossed the road ahead. Now he must have been sure in his mind that he would not go into any shop, and he didn’t even look at the ones he passed. But he noticed people carefully watching him in every shop, gathering together and whispering to each other. Slowly, he walked past them. The sound of vehicles gradually decreased; it felt as if the black-tarred roads were fading away. The farther he walked, the more he began to step onto dirt roads. He walked along narrow mud paths with small stones, surrounded by little patches of grass, observing them with curiosity. The atmosphere was very quiet, no smell of petrol, no continuous honking. A slight cool breeze slowly passed through his hair.The sight he saw ahead truly amazed him.

There wasn’t a single building blocking the view of the sky; every house was scattered like this, he thought. Seeing this wide stretch, memories of the time he once went to Shukla Bhai’s house in Andheri as part of moving a house ran through his mind. He slowly remembered Malik jumping onto the roof of the next house when he tried to place things on top, laughing as he leapt sideways with just a hand’s distance between him and the edge.

Each house looked completely different, filled with clothes and plants on the terrace. Seeing children running, sitting, and playing in front and behind the houses, he was reminded somehow of both Malik and Meena.He slowly walked toward the house near the road. From a distance, he watched a mother feeding her child and the child eating with difficulty. That sight, which always appeared in his dreams, was not enough he continued to watch from afar.

The eyes sitting in the veranda opened and, immediately, the mother took the child and the plate in her hands and went inside the house. That single movement was something he hadn’t expected. Thoughts raced through his mind at lightning speed should he move forward or stay?

After a short while, the woman came back out, accompanied by her husband. Even as drops of sweat ran down his neck, his eyes were focused on whether there was anything in the man’s hands. Soon, from a distance, the man waved at him and called him over

Those small eyes could hardly believe it, yet he slowly walked toward them. It would have been best if his legs had the speed to run. A kind of joy filled him someone in this unknown place had actually called him. But that joy did not last long. As soon as he took a twenty-rupee note from his pocket and placed it in their hands, the man who had brought it slipped and fell into the darkness.

“I don’t need this money…”

He must have felt the panic in his mind, not knowing how to say this to them. The man looked at him and…“What’s wrong? What happened?” he gestured with his hand. Holding the note in his hand, he looked down, noticing that the shopkeeper had placed coins in front he assumed that was why. Quickly, he put the coins from his hand back into his pocket and returned the note the man had given. Without giving a chance for any questions, he pointed to the white bottle sitting beside the child. Slowly, he noticed the difference in the eyes that had looked at the child and then back at him. A kind of doubt reflected in those eyes. The thought came to him: was it really the white bottle beside the child, or had he mistaken it for the toys and tablet along with it? Looking around once more and moving forward as if to point again…

“Hey… stop! Take this… don’t mess up the place…”

After placing the note firmly in his hand, the man slowly pointed a finger for him to move outside. Though he didn’t understand a single word, he realized once again that the meaning of that pointing finger was the same everywhere.Keeping silent, he passed through the gate. Slowly, he turned and looked back. In the empty veranda, the little child was still holding out the white bottle for him

He slowly walked through the residential area, and again the empty roads welcomed him. In many houses he had passed, coins had been placed into his hands as proof of his journey. Along the paths he had walked, several coins had fallen from his hands and were lying on the ground. Even though the people in that area of around forty houses could fill his hands with coins and notes, they could not fill his stomach. Looking at the coins and notes still held in his hands, he slowly walked forward, remembering the days he had run through the streets of Bombay for the same purpose

The target for him and his friends in Bombay Bhai’s plan was 100 rupees. If they reached a hundred rupees, they would get a special meal and a 10-rupee tip. The money could not be spent in any other way because every shop had people who knew Bhai. The main rule was that with the 10-rupee tip, they could buy ice cream from Bhimla Bhai’s hands. Only he got the 20-rupee ice cream that no one else in Bombay would receive.

Now, he had many 100- and 50-rupee notes in his hands. Watching them, he slowly walked forward, while the coins that wouldn’t fit in his hands continued to fall to the ground. The road led him to a small town nearby. Seeing a shop with its shutter partially closed, he placed the coins and notes he had in the veranda and opened the tap to drink water. He drank as much as he needed, like an old man in the desert drinking water after years of thirst. Pouring and drinking water alternately over his head and body, he slowly walked into the veranda of the shop. The tiredness in his eyes gradually made him bow slightly. Even though this new place he had entered was different in appearance and language, in nature it was the same. People running selfishly, and conscience, are as empty as his stomach. Both lands, the ones where people take money from his hands and the ones where they give have many people like this.

“ No one asked me what I needed. “

“ No one asked where you came from .”

“ No one asked what your name was. “

“ No one asked if you were alone. “

At the end of the day nobody asked anything.

All they did was give money.Just donations

Lying in the veranda of the shop, these kinds of thoughts passed through the small boy’s mind, as if confirming what his sharp, red eyes had seen. From tiredness, he slowly closed his eyes.

The silver color that had covered his body had now mostly dried. A few coins and notes were gathered beneath his feet. Even as a light breeze slowly scattered some of the notes, he did not feel anxious. These kinds of people passed in front of the boy lying on the street, but none of their eyes reached him. An old man noticed a ten-rupee note that hadn’t flown away with the help of a five-rupee coin and smiled slowly. That old man’s name was Mahatma Gandhi.