Charki's Char-rasta

This would be my first short story on this blog. Enjoy. Do put criticisms as comments. ;)

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The battle raged fiercely. The atmosphere was tense. Drops of sweat clouded his brow as he counted through the moments, all ready to signal the troops behind him to rush forward and attack the enemy at full speed. The red medals lined on his chest clinked together as he moved up and down on his toes in excitement. The seconds counted down. As soon as the counter hit zero, he made the motion of signaling his troops to his left to march forward. With bellowing sounds, men in colored tanks, on horses and on foot ran forward. But so did the troops come towards him from the front right side, rushing into his ground. In a few seconds the majority of the troops were past each other’s grounds and out of sight. A moment of rest, some time for new troops to build up on both sides. And this went on again and again with the attack of troops on both sides going on.

Picch-thu! And the battleground turned into dusty road of the Chiligudi Char-rasta, with the fascinating tanks turning into honking smog emitting cars and trucks, and the horseriders into cycles. He jumped a bit before checking where the frothing globule of spit from the passing cycle rider had landed. His brown eyes went back to the road on discovering that the boiling spit ball had landed a safe distance from him. He continued directing his troops back and forth, left and right.

Charki was a traffic policeman in the dusty town of Chiligudi. As the name tells, the town was famous for its chilli plantations. Chili plantation had been introduced there by some English traders, in late 1800s, who were looking to set up a small factory to manufacture packed chilis. The factory had now expanded and was now rumored to be held indirectly by some international pizza company for producing its chili flakes. The crossing where Charki was stationed, the Char-rasta, was a major intersection in the small town, where the two major roads crossing the town met. Thus making it the busiest junction of the town.

Charki was brawny, strongly built but with a growing belly. He still had his youth. But he had no plans. Just wanted to be a good general, marshelling his troops. Unlike his colleagues, he loved his job as a traffic policeman. He loved the idea of leading thousands of commuters to their destinations daily always imagining them as his troops. “Abey, phir kho gaya… aaja chai pee le”, called his duty mate Chandru, asking him to join him for a cup of tea. Startled Charki opened his mouth to reply only to drop another drop of red paan on his while shirt. Well, atleast he had another medal now. Cleaning it the best he could, Charki went over. Chandru was pot bellied, dark with his hair receding and always with an air of superiority, someone Charki always aspired to be. He was as corrupt as a crook but sometimes as lenient as the hindi teacher. All depended on his mood which was decided by the sweetness of the morning tea. It had to have the exact amount of sugar, dot more or a dot less and the first motorcycle rider without a helmet had to give rs, 200 to get off. Not that the tea shop owner ever got paid. He was just happy being there on the busy junction.

He arrived there just as Chandru lighted a beedi. “What’ll happen to the traffic if im here”, Charki said lightly, taking the cup. “Let the bastards die..”, he cursed, “Who asks so many people to travel everyday, can’t they take a day off, its Sunday for God’s sake. Making life hell for us in the sun…”, and he continued cursing. It was their daily routine. It was noon, so the traffic was low. Charki knew what Chandru would say when he would utter his concern, but he liked to see him curse. Gave him a strange feeling of happiness seeing Chandru curse someone else for a change.

“Why is it so hot in September.. the place is burning”, he said wiping his brows and sipping the steaming tea. “Must be the chillis”, Chakri quipped while gulping down his cup so as to go back soon. “What on earth did I do to get here..”, Chandru mumbled away, sipping his tea. As he finished his tea, Charki thoughts shifted to how he got there. As he reached his platform in the middle of the road junction and took his place, putting up his hand to stop the oncoming blue Fiat, he could almost see the black Mercedes in its place. He felt the hot, humid Chiligudi roads vanish to be replaced by the cool winds of Goa. The sounds of the honks and the frying sabzi, replaced the sounds of the waves hitting the beach, and Chandru replaced by Chandni, his duty-mate during his shift as a traffic policeman in the coastal town of Siolim in Goa. His post was right next to the beach with most of the traffic being the holiday fun loving crowd. So, work was fun, sipping coconut juice with Chandni was fun, even though he got tired of her homely talks sometimes, still it was fun to be with her.

Then what or who changed the coconut water to over-sweetened tea..? The answer lay in the most lavish house of the capital city. Three time MP from Panaji, Chilokda Rao. He could only be described as a man with double the belly and double age of Chandru, but still managing to walk on his small feet and talk like a wicked witch. A white Ambassador, always ready to ferry him anywhere he wanted. Who could have known, that choosing an extra large coconut to drink would have caused Charki to switch to tea for the rest of his life. It was Friday the 13th, of May last year, the day etched in Charki memories just too vividly. Though for entirely different reasons than that of his former crush running away from his hometown with her lover on that day. No, it was not her face which bothered him at nights. It was that of Chilokda Rao. That white Ambassador with a red beacon on top would haunt him to his death, he knew. Transforming into white elephants, ridden by red masked men on top and coming after him in his dreams. It was surprisingly hot that day. It was sweltering and it he was stationed at his usual place. His and Chandni’s lookout from where they marshaled their troops and sometimes taking breaks to sip coconut water from the nearby vendor whom Chandni always remembered to pay, unlike Chandru. That day she was not there, haven taken a leave after telling Charki. He was drinking from an extra large coconut and brooding over the loneliness in the air whenever Chandni was not there, not even thinking of the fact that she was actually married. The traffic was low and it didn’t need him to marshal it. He brought the coconut to his post at the center of the road and sat on the seat there, drinking. He didn’t notice that his walkie talkie was missing. Suddenly there was a blaring sound. It was actually a couple of second before Charki realized that there were two blaring sounds, one coming from the front and one from the left from towards the beach. He turned to find an ambulance approaching. But before he could stop the traffic from the other sides, two blaring police jeeps went by infront of him from right to left as he looked upon the approaching ambulance. He put up his hand to his right side stooping the traffic on his right. Not noticing the white Ambassador stopping on his right, he waved at the ambulance to go through swiftly. After craning his neck behind his back to see the ambulance fly away, Charki finally turned towards his right. A dark potbellied man in a dhoti and a Gandhi cap was walking towards him, a couple of people trying to stop him. Charki looked at him bemusedly as he approached him with an face dripping with anger. “Who the hell do you think you are? how dare you stop my caravan. Don’t you know who I am.” , He said his small index finger pointing towards Charki in anger. Charki smiled, this was the order of the day. Nobodys and people assuming to be somebodies often came up to him throwing tantrums. “Sir, I would request you to please go back to your car or I would have to call the police.” The man’s eyebrows arched in mammoth anger as the small man next to him tried to calm him. It was then that Charki noticed about 5 policemen standing behind him, and next to them he got the glimpse pf the red beacon. His feet froze, eyes opened in fear. “I AM CHILOKDA RAO, THREE TIMES MP FROM PANAJI, how dare you stop me and threaten me with police. It’s you who’ll go behind bars. I got late because of you, SECRETARY! I want this man behind bars. NOW!” He screamed as he stomped back to his car. The policemen rushing in his wake. A frozen Charki stood and watched as the Ambassador and 2 more police jeeps scurried away. He collapsed. He was dead, he was sure he would surely lose his beloved job now. No more coconuts, no more time with Chandni. Three times MP. How come he never saw him...

The next day he was transferred from the beaches of Goa to the dust of Chiligudi. The coconuts replaced by tea and the smell of Chandni’s hair, by Chandru’s sweat. His job was still the same; he still liked it, but missed the calm of the beach town. He was woken up by his dreams by the familiar blaring sound which now always sent a chill down his spine.

Looking ahead, he could see an ambulance approaching. But there was another blaring sound coming from his right. He froze at his place and dared to look towards his right. There was a police jeep. But he took a sigh of relief when he couldn’t find any sign of a mighty ambassador with a red beacon behind it. He relaxed. What would an ambassador be doing in a town like Chiligudi. He smiled and let the police jeep through before stopping all the traffic to let the ambulance go first. Suddenly the doors of the black Mercedes which was just behind the police jeep opened and out came a pot bellied man with a white cap on his head. Charki froze on seeing him. He wanted to run away, he just wanted to vanish from that place. Not again! As the belly-man approached, with some police guys tottering behind him with guns, Charki looked out for Chandru. But he seemed to have vanished from his seat at the tea stall. As the man came near and looked at Charki, his face got even more contorted in rage as he recognized him. “You again! Abomination on the human race! Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time? I’ll get you arrested this time for sure”, he said spitting at the Charki’s foot. The spitball found its target and his black shoe reflected some light after days of getting the dust treatment. Charki was whimpering. He loved his job, did it well too. Never had an accident taken place on his watch. But obviously that didn’t matter to this pot bellied gentleman. A small crowd had gathered by now. The mandarin had no plans of backing out and continued to rage at his full tempo. “SHLIK! SHLIK!” Someone was clicking pictures. Chilokda Rao turned realizing that, tried to locate the photographer. But by now about 50 people had gathered and the cameraman could not be located. Realizing the delicateness of the situation the secretary tugged at Chilokda Rao, who gave one last angry stare at Charki and turned back towards his waiting black Mercedes. Charki was sure that his days as a traffic policeman were done and that black elephants would now join the white ones in his nightmares. Shaken he fell to the ground. Soon a hand was pulling him up pulling him towards the tea stall. Leaving him in a chair, Chandru pushed a glass of tea into his hands. “Thanda reh, kuch ni hoga”. But Chakri was not listening. He was lost in his world of memories. He didn’t want to give it all up.

The next day when he reached his Char-rasta there was a man waiting for him with a letter. “Charki, this is for you”, he said handing him an envelope. He knew it was his termination letter. He just couldn’t get himself to open it. He looked at the chai shop, Chandru was strolling towards him. Taking the letter from him, Chandru ripped it open, taking out the sheet of paper from within. “Holy God”, he said, “You lucky bastard he said looking at him in disbelief, you’re going back to Goa”. Charki took the letter from Chandru, and looked at it in surprise. The expression of his face changed from deep pain to that of utmost pleasure as his eyes went down the letter. He could almost smell the odors of the beach again. Maybe he’ll be on duty with Chandni again. He was on fire with happiness. He just couldn’t stop smiling. On a nearby stall, a newspaper lay spread on a table. It had the photo of Chilokda Rao and Charki from yesterday and it had the details of what had transpired.

A smiling Charki took leave. It was time to go home and marshal the troops there. The general picked up his stick and cap, hugged his comrade, and then started walking back, to the place where his home troops awaited him for direction.