Mini and Kabuliwala

It was for the umpteenth time that Mini was shifting to a new rented flat, in a strange location, far away from the neighbourhood that had witnessed the many tumults that had left her family reeling, after their initial flash of brilliance in the early nineties, when they migrated to the City of Joy from their dim suburb quarters. As Mini left behind the bemused eyes of her neighbours, the struggling smiles of her friends, the silence of her otherwise restless kitten, and the rooms that once breathed with the melodies of her gifted voice, she staggered with the weight of her luggage and the memories that would haunt her forever. She wondered what her new address held in store for her, after having lived in four homes already, in a span of four years!

Numerous mistakes triggered by utter lack of foresight, and many ruthless deceptions later, Mini’s father, the least favourite of the Three Fates, stowed his family away to the neglected ground floor flat of a wealthy landlord. Very little laughter could be heard henceforth from this erstwhile happy family. Mini silently bore her lot, either concentrating on her studies, or tearing up over what had come to pass, or contemplating the intervention of Divine Providence to put things right, maybe by the miraculous appearance of an angel or a hero – the hopeless optimist that she was! She took heart from the fact that nothing could get worse and that this dark phase of minimalistic living would soon be over – she believed it.

One morning, Mini woke up to the sound of agitated voices of strangers. This was not one of those groggy mornings when she would need to rub her eyes first and then laze about a while before heaving herself up forcibly from her bed. She was surprised to see how wide awake she was, alert and tense, her ears trying to pick up every word being spoken. Her curiosity could no longer be contained. She tip-toed out of her bedroom and stood at the corridor leading to the living room, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the unknown guests in her house. She could hardly believe her eyes.

To Mini, they looked monstrous, as they behaved like savages, grabbing her father by the neck and threatening him. Their tall, imposing frames and the menacing look in their eyes made Mini shudder – she felt that she was in the middle of a nightmare; her mind tried in vain to defy its veracity.

Mini was in a trance for what seemed like an eternity, until the sound of a familiar voice jolted her back to reality. It was her father: “Will you please go call ….?”

Before he could finish his sentence, she had rushed out of her house, head bowed and covered in her disheveled hair, avoiding the vulpine gazes of those villains. Her heart beat fast as she ran with all her might, until she reached the home of gigantic man her father had recently befriended. She had never felt such shame before, asking him to rescue her father from...them…

“Who are they? What do they want?” Mini asked her father angrily, once her gigantic neighbour had forced them to leave.

“I borrowed money from them so we could move into this house”.

Mini had known that her father was in debts, following the betrayal by Mr. Ghoshal who now lived in Mini’s first home in Kolkata – the man who still owed her father lakhs of money. Her father’s dream of moving on to a new flat now lay shattered. All he could do was watch the thousands of dominos fall headfirst, as in a chain reaction initiated by his first mistake of giving away the keys to his flat before taking the payment, and having no misgivings about the Ghoshals, a family of an old couple, a normal child and a differently-abled one.

“I hate them. How could they grab you? What are they going to do? And you didn’t tell me who they are,” Mini sobbed through her endless questions.

“They are the Kabuliwalas,” her father managed to articulate, fighting the growing lump in his throat.

And thus began the tale of Mini and her Kabuliwalas. They would visit her house often, showering expletives on her father each time. She never showed them her face and hid herself in the inner quarters each time they were near her house.

Tagore’s Mini had shared an enviably sweet friendship with a Kabuliwala, a second father to her. But the Mini of the twenty-first century could only pray for a catastrophe to come and wipe away their entire money-lending clan from the heart of this city, if that could save her father.

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Two years passed by, and her neighbours were more than relieved to see them leave their neighbourhood, lock stock and barrel. Mini was now going to live on the fringes of the city, somewhere in the south parganas. Her job as a customer care executive, though a demanding one with little pay, did help her in making ends meet. In the meantime, her father had paid of the bulk of his debts, sans the interest they demanded, the figure seeming rather irrational to him. He took care to change his number and made sure that he could not be traced…by the unrelenting Kabuliwalas.

However, Mini’s contentment was short-lived. Her father fell sick and had to be hospitalized. But that was the least of her worries.

His mobile phone was at home. Mini’s mother responded to an unknown number and gave away their new address, hardly realizing what she had done. Mini could not help but scream, not explicitly at her mother, but definitely at her current predicament.

But adversity also brought out the best in her, as she had learnt over time. In fact, Mini was rather proud of Viola and Portia, two of the best disguised women in Shakespeare’s oeuvre. She would finally get to play a role, in the stage that is life.

The much-anticipated day arrived. The bell rang and Mini bravely stepped onto her veranda.

“Does Mr. Roy stay here?” asked the tall man in baggy pyjamas, his cheeks reddened by the sun.

“Who is this Mr. Roy?” Mini feigned surprise.

“But I got this address,” reasoned her adversary.

“Oh, that Mr. Roy. Why, he used to stay here, on rent. But he shifted. A year ago,” Mini spoke nonchalantly.

As the Kabuliwala turned away to leave, Mini was tempted to utter “Kabuliwala, oh Kabuliwala” but she resisted it.

Mini knew that was the last she would see of the Kabuliwala. And she was right.

But if he were ever to turn up, she knew what she would have to do.

Sometimes, in this world of non-fiction, a daughter has to lie about her father, only to save him, and Mini had no qualms about wearing the right mask at the right time! Life had given Mini a stage, a considerably difficult one, where she had to perform, and it better not be a soppy act, she understood.

She needed a hero, but like Viola and Portia, she became one.