Old Books & Smiles

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters bear no resemblance to anyone living or deceased.

All I could remember was the smile. It had been a week since the young girl had met me.

 It had been raining hard. Mumbai has a tendency to come to a standstill in the rains. Something similar had happened that day. My cab cancelled the pickup and I was stranded under the bridge. It had been pouring incessantly and I was drenched, after standing there for almost an hour. The daylight was slowly fading. I was tired, drenched to my skin and irritated at the fussy cab and auto rickshaw drivers.

 “Saheb! Would you like to buy some books?” I looked at her incredulously. She was young, about twelve years old. She was drenched, too. On her frail shoulders, was a rucksack, with a plastic coating. It was pouring and she was stupid enough to ask me if I wanted to buy books! I felt like yelling at her and asking her to get lost! I refrained and shook my head, without bothering to give her a glance.

 “Don’t worry, I will cover them in plastic for you. The books will be safe. You can take them home and have your family read them. I have books for all age groups”, she said, not giving up. I had to give her credit – persistent with her sales strategy. She knew I would not walk away, because the rain wouldn’t let me. She was already drenched, so she didn’t care. I cast a glance around. The tea vendor was busy preparing tea for the potential customers who would stop by in the rain. The lady at the side of the road was covering her basket of flowers, protecting them from the rain. There was a crowd huddled near the cigarette shop, who seemed unaffected by the rain. I again shook my head, this time, adding a ‘No, thank you’, to confirm my refusal.

 The girl did not budge. She decided to strike up a conversation, instead. Her English was fairly competent. This has always been the charm of Mumbai. People whom you do not expect, to have a command over the language, will speak to you in the language you speak. Yes, I am judgmental, like everyone else! I judge people on the clothes they wear, on the way they carry themselves and on the overall personality.

 “Okay, saheb! Maybe you don’t like to read. That’s alright! But I want to sell these books, so I thought I should ask everyone. It’s raining, so most people who are stuck, have the time”, she said, with a grin.

 This time, I glared at her. “So, you want to make money off the people who are stuck because of the rains? That is very inconsiderate!”

 “No, saheb! If I were selling plastic toys or flowers or stale sweets, it would be inconsiderate. I can vouch for these books. I have read them. I know they are good. Besides, a book contains knowledge, doesn’t it?” She left me lingering in the thought, looking at me with calm eyes. This girl had an interesting perspective.

 “You found the time to read all the books in that bag? Why are you selling them?” I asked.

 “Oh! I don’t have space for them anymore. I had to empty my trunk and I cannot keep these books anymore”, she answered, nonchalantly. This girl was unbelievable! She wanted to sell me books that she had bought earlier, read and now wanted to discard! I have a pretty decent collection of books myself and cannot think of parting with them!

 “You want to sell me used books?” I asked, still in disbelief.

 “Saheb, the good thing about books is, that no matter how old, if the pages are intact, the knowledge doesn’t go anywhere”, she answered, intelligently.

 “Still, I wouldn’t sell my books, just for some money. Or for a reason as ridiculous as a lack of space!” I shot back, my irritation levels rising.

 “That’s great! You have the space to keep the books! You should buy them. Do you have any young children? They will enjoy the books. You would enjoy some of them too! Do you want to see which books I have?” She continued, unfazed.

 I calmly lifted a finger, to stop her. “Kid! I am not going to buy books from you. I thought I made that clear at the start!” My voice was louder than before.

 “At least take a look. You like to read, and you are stuck here. What is the harm in going through the titles?” Clearly, my rising voice had no effect on this girl. She was stubborn. Her smile indicated that she had control over me at the moment. I couldn’t go anywhere; she was just a little girl trying to sell books and nobody was going to help me shoo her away. I gave in.

 “Alright, show me”, I said, resignedly.

 The girl happily opened her rucksack. I peered inside. The light was low, but I still managed to take a good look. There were about two dozen books, tightly wrapped in plastic. I could tell that they were old. They were also well-maintained. The collection had books that a twelve-year-old would enjoy. Fiction, and a few classics among those – Black Beauty, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn! This kid had taste! I smiled and rummaged further. A few minutes later, I closed the mouth of the rucksack and handed it back to her.

 “Okay, I looked. You have a good collection. You shouldn’t sell them. I can buy you a bigger box, if you want. So, you can keep them safely”, I said, calming down.

 “No, saheb. I need to sell these books. I want the money”, she replied, with a firm shake of her head.

 I rolled my eyes. “Alright kid, how much money do you need? I’ll give you the money and buy you a box too! Keep the books and the money.” I wanted to see how far this discussion went.

 “Saheb, I have no use for extra money or a box. I cannot keep these books. It is best if these are sold. I could use the money from the sale”, she said.

 “Why do you need the money?” I asked, again irritated by the girl’s stubbornness.

 “I have to give it to an uncle. I owe it to him”, she replied.

 I pulled out my phone and searched for the local police station. I was now convinced that someone was making this girl sell her things, probably for an extra bottle of alcohol. Maybe she was even beaten regularly. She looked malnourished. My irritation shifted from the girl, to whoever was making her sell her books. She noticed me searching on my phone.

 “Please don’t do anything, when you don’t know the situation, saheb. It’s okay if you don’t want to buy. Maybe I made a mistake in showing you the books”, she said, slowly turning away.

 A reverse strategy! Down selling? This kid had potential! I stopped her abruptly.

 “Alright, I give up! How much for all the books?”

 She smiled and handed me the rucksack. I paid her.

 “If I find any pages missing, I’ll come back here and get a hold of you”, I said, lightly threatening her, with a smile.

 She smiled back, brightly. “There are no pages missing. You may find some markings on some pages, but all the text is clear”, she replied.

 I reached home a few hours later. My wife was surprised at the rucksack in my hands. She laughingly said that I look like Santa Claus in the rains. I narrated the entire incident to her, while drying myself. Her interest piqued and we decided to find the girl soon. We both picked up a book each and began to read that night. She picked up a Nancy Drew novel and I settled in with Black Beauty. It had been years since we read these! It was nostalgic.

 I parked my car at the side of the road and waited. My wife looked around. A few minutes later, we decided to get out of the car. I walked to the same spot as last week. I saw the tea vendor, the lady with her flower basket and the cigarette shop owner, with lesser customers this time. It had been sunny and people did not have to wait, finding shelter at his tiny shop. I walked towards his shop and casually asked him about the girl. He quizzically looked at me for a few minutes.

 “Are you talking about that thin girl who sold books?” He asked. I answered in the affirmative.

“Well, she died a few days ago. We took her body to the government hospital and deposited it there, just as she had asked”, he replied, with a straight face.

 The news hit me unexpectedly. “How did she die?”

 “She was sick! She had come here two months ago and was selling books. She told me that she would pay me to cover the expenses to transport her body to the hospital”, the shop owner replied.

 My emotions were playing havoc. I wanted to grab the collar of the shopkeeper and beat him up for being so casual about the death of a child. I wanted to ask him more about her. It then struck me that she had wanted to pay this man, whom she had referred to as her uncle! This man did not even know her name, but had agreed to handle the responsibilities after her death!

 “Saheb, I don’t know where she came from. She was very sweet! She always smiled at all of us and spoke well. My heart broke when she told me about her illness. I wanted to help her, but she refused! That girl was brave saheb! She said she would pay us to cover any expenses! Who does that??” The shopkeeper could not control his emotions and choked up as he spoke. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, looking down at the leaf in his hand. “She was a smart girl, saheb. We all called her Gudiya.”

 I did not know how to react. I was amazed at the fortitude of the girl. I was overwhelmed at the people who cared for her before she died, when they did not even know her name. I was angry at not being able to find out where she came from, or who her parents were. I was upset with myself at not being nice to her for all the time that she spent with me. I was also glad that I met her. That little kid had treasured her books. She had wanted to make sure that those books found a place after she died. She died! And she left me with a memory of her smile! I walked back to my car, teary-eyed, vowing to keep those books well. I smiled, looking up at the heavens, hoping that she could see me.

 “Thank you for the books! We enjoyed reading them and we will keep them safe”, I said, convinced that she could hear me.

 **Copyright: Amit D'Souza