To Someone I will Never See Again.

Rukmini.

A name as common in Tamil Nadu as the coconut trees in Kerala.

There is nothing extraordinary about her. There will never be columns in newspapers dedicated to her, nor will she receive awards of excellence. She was a woman of ordinary stature, a housemaid.

She slept on the pavements near my house and over the last two years, we’ve grown to share a beautiful relationship. She always used to call me her son; her own son stayed 5 hours away and she hardly met him.

She’s always been my biggest cheerleader. My source of inspiration. We’ve had fascinating discussions about God, about spirituality, religions, kids, and the future of India. She’s not educated, yet, one of the most intelligent and kind women I’ve met in my entire life.

When I wanted to quit my job and take on Indian Superheroes full-time, I consulted with her.
“If that’s your dream, go ahead, my son”, she said. “For your good heart, God will always love and give you the best.”

The very next day, I put down my papers. I trusted her. Unconditional, blind trust.

The last two weeks however, she wasn’t speaking to me as well as before.

She had asked me for some money to go back home to meet her grandchildren.

“They wanted some toys to play with. Ayya, can you please give me thousand rupees? I will give it back to you when I return.”

“What will you buy with a thousand rupees? And who will pay for your bus travels?” I asked her, and thrust Rs.3500 at her. “Take this. Buy all the toys you want for your grandkids.”

Yesterday morning, I met her outside the gates of my house. Leaning against the wall, tired from the exertions of the morning.

“Laddaiyya…” she called out to me.
“Enama?” I said, and her smile made my heart full.
“Ayya, I haven’t been able to get money to repay what I had borrowed from you.”
“It’s ok amma, I didn’t even expect it.”
“I’m trying very hard Ayya, I’m working in two houses and they are paying me very less. I’m not able to save any money…and my niece has a heart operation. Everyday, I need to fend for her because she has nobody left.”
“It’s okay, amma. Family is the most important thing.”

I gave her a thousand rupees.

“Amma, take this. I’m not earning now. But, you need this money more than I do.”
“Ayya, sorry. I can’t take anymore money from you. I can’t even see your face when you walk down the road. I’m rid with guilt everyday on facing you. At the back of my head, I only get reminded of my debt. I will pay you back 3500 in two months, Ayya. Sorry.”
“Enanga idhu? Don’t apologize to me. Am I not like your son?” I said.
“Please forgive this mother for her follies. Naa venumnae pannala Ayya. Aana mudila. Ena manichudu Ayya.”
She started crying. She touched her palms together, held it close to her chest and killed me with the gravity of it all.

With tears in my eyes, I said “Amma, please. Money is not everything. Family is. Be with them. Come back when’s everything alright. We will do great things for our country.”
“Kandipa Ayya. Whatever you want me to do for you, I’m ready. For your good heart, God will give you everything.”

I left her teary-eyed as I struggled to contain my emotions.

In the night, while I was walking back after drinking tea with my friend, she was walking back to the pavements after a gruelling day. On seeing me, she came running, hugged me, took my hand in hers and planted a loving kiss on it.

“Ayya, you are my God. Bless me. I’m going to sleep. I will see you in the morning.”

She left me in her wake and disappeared into the dark alleys of nothingness.
That was the last I saw of her.

The next day, there was commotion outside my house. A couple of policemen come to my street, showing a photograph and asking people if they knew the person in it.

When I saw the photo, my heart stopped.
It was Rukmini.

“What happened? Yes, I know. She’s Rukmini.” I said, my heart heavy and expecting something really worse.
“She had a road accident in the morning near the Koramangala Water Tank. A car hit her while she was trying to cross the road.”
“Oh my God. Is her condition serious?”
“She died on the way to St.Johns.”

Deep silence. Tears were gushing out from my eyes unwittingly.

The policeman put an arm around my shoulder.

“I’m sorry. We have arrested the car driver….We will bring him to justice. Don’t worry about that.”

I couldn’t hear anything else he said.
The world stood still for a moment.
I looked around to see the pavement she used to sleep on, the shade under the tree where we used to have our many conversations…
I remembered her kiss and cried even more. I looked down at the back of my palm where she had kissed me. The wetness seemed to be still there, lingering, but, she was no more.

Gone. Like a flash of lightning.

“What relation is she to you?” the policeman probed.
“Huh?” I broke out of my reverie.
“Relation?”
“Oh…”

I couldn’t define my relationship with her.

What could I say?
She wasn’t working for me. She was just someone I met on the roads, someone I connected with.

“She’s like my mom.”
“Oh…”

The policeman didn’t ask me anything more. He understood.

I tried paying a visit to the morgue in the evening. I wanted to see her face one last time, even if it might have been broken beyond recognition.

I have never been to a morgue before. A morbid sense of nothingness engulfed me.

“Sir, it is cold storage. And an accident case. So, police verification is required. We cannot help you anymore.” the staff person said.

I called up the policeman. “Can you come? I just want to see her one last time.”
“Sorry sir…I’m stuck up here with another accident case. Come tomorrow.”

I left St.Johns with a heavy heart, past the morgue, and I knew somewhere amidst all those bodies in cold storage, she’d have been stashed up, waiting for me to see her, one final time.

What can define a person’s life?

She left nothing behind…not even a single penny.
She will not be remembered by anyone.

The houses she used to work in will get new maids, the car driver will pay bribe to the authorities and go away scot free and the world will function as it always has, a mere microsecond blip in its functioning.

But for me, when I walk past the pavement on which she used to sleep, or whenever I look at the back of my palm, I will remember her.

For others, she might have been ordinary. For me, she was someone more. Someone extraordinary.

For once in life, if we measure a person’s success not by the money they’ve amassed but by the love they give out to the world, Rukmini would have been the richest woman the world has seen.

Epilogue:

Indian Superheroes has a scheme for developing women entrepreneurs. I will name it “Rukmini” in memory of the person who was the epitome of the lower working classes, who could dream not of a big house or a car, but could only dream of spreading joy, love and happiness to the tiny world around her.

She will live on, within me, within Indian Superheroes, always. Always.

One day, I promise, just like the way you wished for me, I will make you proud, Rukmini. Till then, stay safe. Rest in peace. A better world awaits. God bless your beautiful soul. I love you. Always and forever.