The Painter..!!

 It’s quite interesting to be in bed for more than ten hours these days. The routine has changed so drastically that I’ve never imagined. The number of sleeping hours has increased from three to twelve. I’m avoiding breakfast because I can’t wake up in the morning. I’ve stopped loving news papers the most, coffees are being skipped because I’ve to wake up early to get milk from market for coffee and the weather is so awesome that is forcing all creatures to stay under their warmer like quilt, blankets etc. The decreasing level of mercury has already forced me to stay away from jogging in the morning. And of course the semester is over

so there is no hurry to wake up early. So……

‘Gudmng madu,’ the message came on my phone suddenly. It becomes quite tough for us to open eyes in morning so I was replying opening my right eye keeping left eye closed away from the phone.

‘Who the hell is disturbing me,’ I asked myself after hearing the sound of the door bell. I opened both of my eyes to see who is there, as if my door is transparent.  I was trying to guess the person but the door bell started ringing continuously.

‘Who the fuck has dared to come out his bed at this hour,’ I said throwing blanket aside.

‘Gunesh, I was waiting since half an hour, you are sleeping a lot,’ he started with these words as I opened the door.

‘I’m sorry, what happened?’ I asked. 

‘Nothing,’ he said entering my room.

‘Bhaiya, come here, this is the flat,’ he said calling a guy who was standing outside my room. He was the son of my landlord and he never pronounced my name correctly and I hate him for it. He was calling a guy to show this flat because I refused to increase rent from 3000 bucks to 3500 plus electricity bill. And they asked me to vacate this flat by next month if I can’t pay the increased amount.

‘Look, here you have to do it all, and look here, you can finish it today,’ he said pointing his index finger towards roof and washroom.

‘Thank god, he is not throwing me out,’ I said to myself.

Yes, he was showing this flat to a painter guy who was about to take the work of painting my place. They were  discussing something like how many paint buckets would be used here, and how much premiers would be used etc etc. And I was hearing all these lying under my blanket chatting with Tanya.

‘Gunesh, wake up,’ the voice reached my ears and I typed w8 and sent to Tanya.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘You’ve to vacate this within one hour because he is going to start his work from now,’ the extra fat son of my landlord said circling his left hand on his round drum like belly.

‘How the fuck would I do it alone,’ I said to myself looking towards the book shelf. I’ve more than 100 books that have been gathered since I was in 11^th. And they have become so dusty that I hate to touch them even if I’m need of any of them. The weather is not allowing to come out the blankets and he was asking to vacate whole flat.

‘Can’t it be get painted later?’ I asked.

‘No, because last time you said that your papers are going on so you can’t vacate this and it’s theka work so you have cooperate us,’ he said.

‘Okay,’ I said looking towards kitchen for a hot coffee.

He came at 10am with his buckets, painting brushes, rollers, and one helper who was a thirteen year kid. The kid left after sometime as he got a call from his owner to join work at the other site so the painter started helping me in shifting my books and bed out.

‘Bhaiya, what’s your name?’ I asked.

‘Gajendra,’ he answered.

‘Wanna have coffee?’ I asked.

‘Sir, I can have anything?’ he said holding few books in his hand when I was cleaning a coffee mug.

‘Nice coffee,’ he said.

‘Thanks I said turning the second page of the Hindu. He finished his coffee in seconds and started mixing colors for painting. Like all the painters he was also a poor man, but he seemed to be a gentle man. The way he was talking to me, the way was working was amazing. He started asking details about me like what type of job I’m doing, how much money I earn every month and everything that could have satisfy him. I answered his all questions honestly looking into the newspaper and changing songs in my Ipod.

After mixing the colors he asked me shift sofa a little left so that he could adjust his stairs nicely. One thing I saw was different with him, he was walking with a one and half meter bamboo stick. He was stronger than me because he was shifting more books than I was.

He was a painter so he was looking so because the dress he was wearing was showing more color combinations that we can get any dress with such combination in market. Yes, his clothes were totally painted. Maybe due to the paint that would have felt on his clothes while painting or he would have gotten his dress from his owner as uniform of painter. But it would be quite tough for any dress designer to give such designs on any kind of dress. Anyway he came here for painting the walls and roofs of my flat so he was concentrating over his work more than I do on my studies.

‘Bhiaya, may I help you please?’ I asked showing some interest in painting more than my engineering books.

‘No, sir, painting seems to be easier but it’s hard to match the color and its shining,’ he said.

‘Okay, you direct me first then I would do it perfectly,’ he said holding one brush in my left hand.

‘Okay, sir, let me finish the designs of this roof then I’ll ask you to help me afterwards,’ he said climbing over the first step of the staircase.

‘Oh, the voice came out of his mouth and his bamboo stick felt down on the floor.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘Nothing, I’ve to fold the bottom my trousers because they are creating hindrances while stepping up over this staircase,’ he said adjusting his cap after putting his stick bending on one side of the staircase. I started concentrating my eyes into the newspaper because I didn’t finish that yet.

After folding his trousers he stepped up the staircase holding a brush in one hand and a paint bucket in the other.

‘What the fuck is this?’ I uttered leaving my chair.

‘Oh, god, what would have happened to this guy?’ how is he daring to work like this?, why did he come to paint my house, I would paint better than him……. A million of questions started haunting my mind and my eyes got fixed on his legs.

Yes, he was a handicapped. He had only one working leg, the other leg was thin, smaller and hanging like any non loving stuff hanging in the air.

‘What happened, Bhaiya?’ he asked me looking to me as I was standing opening my mouth right in front of him.

‘Nothing,’ I said controlling my nerves because it went out of order and it was a dream so I started looking here and there out of my room and found that it was not a dream.

‘What’s this?, I mean how did it happen?’ I asked the painter pointing towards his hanging leg.

‘It happened when I was a kid, its Polio,’ he said applying brush over the roof.

‘But, how, and when did it happen, can you tell me the detail?’ I asked showing my interest in his history. And it’s nature of we all human beings that we became anxious to know about the past of such happening that keeps your open mouth wide opened after seeing it, so I asked.

‘Sir, when I was seven month old, my mom went to jungle to collect some woods as fuel to get food made. Then I felt down off my bed and it happened. When he started narrating his story I imagined each and every single line as I was seeing all the incidents that had occurred with him when his mom went out. The pictures of his lying in bed, his mom’s going out and collecting dry woods, and of course how he felt down. These pictures were haunting my mind like any bollywood old movie. I started feeling my presence there and I started cursing myself asking myself that why was I not there to rush him to the hospital at the same moment he felt down. Or I would called his mom on her mobile phone…………