Heroes without Capes

My friends and I recently visited Coonoor, a small, unassuming hill station a stone’s throw away from Ooty. Despite all my previous inhibitions about couch surfing, I finally decided to use AirBnB and booked a beautiful house for ourselves.

The booking receipt mentioned that the caretaker of the property was Dinesh and our single point of contact for any requirements.

Dinesh was supposed to pick us from the city bus stand which was an hour away from the property. Unfortunately, our bus arrived more than an hour before the scheduled time and we stood, stranded at the bus stop at 6 am.

We dialled Dinesh in a jiffy and informed that we had arrived early. He said he will be with us in an hour and within an hour, he was with us - a rarity considering the Indian standard punctuality assumes a standard delay. 

He arrived in a mini van that he had hired for us and beside him on the passenger seat sat a little boy who was looking at us with his deep, brown expectant eyes. An hour long wait had made us impatient. We were sleep-deprived, weary and the mini van was a little too “mini” to accommodate all of us with our luggage. On top of that, a seat already occupied by the little boy allowed ourselves even lesser room and that seemed to drain our remaining reservoir of patience.

Dinesh greeted us loudly and happily. We returned his greeting, with a tenth of the energy and enthusiasm.

As we swung like a pendulum in the car in response to the sharp curves of the hilly roads, we saw a pair of eyes peeping back at us from above the front passenger seat. I am neither poetic nor a connoisseur of describing beauty but the innocence dripping from those little eyes seemed to sap our tiredness away.

“How old is he?” I enquired.

Dinesh was quick to respond. “Sir ladki hai. 3 saal ki hai.!Iska naam Preeti hai“ (sir, it’s a girl - 3 years old. Her name is Preeti)

Perhaps asking the question was a mistake. Dinesh just wouldn’t stop blabbering. The road was a tough drive. If I was behind the wheel, I wonder if the passengers would live to see the beautiful house we had booked. 

As soon as we reached home, Dinesh got down to cleaning, answering to our chores while Preeti kept observing us shyly from a distance. We quickly left to explore the city and Dinesh kept blabbering throughout the journey. Preeti had joined us again from the front seat, peeking back at us as the van zipped through the curves. During the one sided conversation, Dinesh passively mentioned that Preeti always accompanies him since he there is no place else he could keep her. We did not think much about it then.

Gradually, Preeti, her deep brown curious eyes and Dinesh’s constant blabber became an integral part of our journey exploring Coonoor. 

Preeti had now shed her inhibitions and turned out to be even more talkative then Dinesh. Her dialect was a mix of English, Tamil, Hindi and some outlandish. But her expressions were so full and passionate, we almost always understood what she meant.

We came home and collapsed on the couches while Dinesh, after 13 hours of hardcore driving, stood before us brimming with delight to ask us what we would like to eat the next day and if he should get some groceries for us. We had just begun to get a hint of this man’s pure, undeterred spirit of hospitality.

We had made a mess of the house but by next morning, Dinesh had cleaned it through, and prepared a meal of veggies, eggs, aloo parathas and the most amazing cup of tea I’ve ever had. This man, single handedly, takes care of his little daughter, cleans a whole house, does the dishes, cooks for 5 guests, take our photos, tolerates our tantrums while smiling all the time - not a tinge of exhaustion or frustration.

Today, I asked a question I should have asked long ago. 

“Where is Preeti’s mother?”

We learnt that she had passed away 6 months ago. No wonder, Preeti always accompanies Dinesh on his drives. Where else will she be taken care of? Dinesh has become her mother as he carefully helped her apply paint on her tiny fingernails. He does this, all alone, all by himself, with absolutely no impression of giving up.

He taught me how trivial our problems are and how easily we contemplate giving up.

We look for heroes in movies and comics. They fly, disappear and save the world. But so does Dinesh. He flies, disappears and saves the world for his little daughter, Preeti. 

Mudit Yadav