Just an ordinary man.

Just an ordinary man.

There is nothing as surprising, devastating and delightful on earth as the fickleness of human nature. 

This story starts in the middle. It is late night when Prakash Rao, a station master of a small railway station in a tiny town in Karnataka, India sits down to have his dinner. The meal is simple but satisfying. Rao lives alone and has a lady who comes day time, cooks and cleans and leaves his dinner in the kitchen. There are no modern amenities such as a microwave that Rao possesses, so the lady makes the dinner super hot and encases it in an old iron cast tiffin. The tiffin is heavy in weight, but it keeps the meal nice and hot. Today there is rice, dal, spicy potatoes and beetroot pachadi, a spicy relish of mashed beetroot and yogurt tempered with chilies and spices. Rao often has this meal for dinner, and feels its fit for a king. He is a strict vegetarian and a Brahmin, which puts him way high up on the totem pole in India. 

 Rao doesn't allow even the hint of meat near his cabin, he is modern though and doesn't begrudge the other railway employees eating flesh, although they have been warned to stay far away from him when they do so. Rao prays many times a day to various Gods, he thinks he is a good man, even if he recoils at the sight of beggars at temple entrances, so he has built a mini temple in his house and office. Rao has never married, not for lack of trying. His mother tried for many years, he even came close once, but somehow things never worked out. He is just an everyday ordinary Joe, blaming the world for everything that goes wrong in his life.

 This story continues towards the end. So Rao is on the verge of the first bite when two people dash into the room. It's a young girl, dressed in a simple red sari, and a young man dressed in a kurta. Young but not kids. The girls eyes are wild, her sari torn is dirty, the guy bleeding from his head. They look at him, beseeching him for something he might not be able to give. Rao is just not happy at this intrusion. His dinner will go cold. The guy shuts the door with a bang and falls at Rao’s feet. They were married in the morning, their marriage registered in the courts. Now there are goons after them, they need to hide until the morning train to Bangalore gets in. Rao doesn’t want to get involved in whatever this is. He goes to the phone to call the police. The station is too small. There is no railway police here. The woman grabs his hand and shoves the phone out of it. Rao understands they are on the run from the cops.  

 Within minutes the girl and the man are bound to the chairs, overpowered by Rao and his sense of duty, or so he tells them. The night is dark, the next train but fifteen minutes away. Rao tells them he will see to the train and then hand them over to the cops. The girl tells him, he might as well kill them. He hears their story, she is an upper caste girl running away with her lower caste husband, a marriage sanctioned by law, but rejected by her community. Rao feels revulsion. He does not believe in mingling castes, faiths, communities. The world has no sanctity left, all the intermingling washing away identities. Rao has been taught since childhood one must uphold purity above all. Rao sits back at his table, he doesn’t want to speak, but he feels compelled to. 

 He tells the girl she has brought shame to her family. The girl looks him square in the eye and tells him, she has finished college and graduated top class in the IAS exams. She is to be posted as a bureaucrat, somewhere in North India. Thats how she met the boy, together they want to use their positions to build schools, build hospitals, bring education and healthcare to areas where none exist. It is her family bringing shame to her, holding on to outmoded beliefs. She is a young, educated woman who wants to live her life on her own terms. They just want to control her. Why should they get to control her. The word control sticks.

 The catalyst for what’ s about to happen next goes to the beginning of our story, the childhood of Prakash Rao. A strict, abusive father, who only wanted to control his family. The beatings if anyone strayed from his rules. The Muslim friend who little Prakash was not allowed to play with, his sister who was married off even before she was of legal age, the brother who was excommunicated when he married a girl down the road, a girl from the same community, a girl from the same caste, a girl who his father would have chosen, had his brother not chosen her. The same cycle of feudalism, control and violence, which never stops in the country.

 This story reaches its end. There is a shrill whistle. Rao comes to with a start. The cops are getting nearer. He can see the fear in the boys face and the defiance in the girls. All his life he has played by the rules laid down by his ancestors. Rao realises he has become his father, the person he hates the most. He knows what will happen if the cops find these two, it’s the girl defiance which makes the decision. Prakash Rao will not live the life of an ordinary man. He unties the girl and the boy. They are both scared witless, but putting up a brave front.

 Rao tells the couple it’s their lucky day. He tells them to leave through the back door, he will handle the cops. The girl wants to ask him, what he plans to do, but something about his steely look chills her nerves. She grabs the boys hand, and they run to the back door. She lingers for a second by the door and offers a silent thank you to Rao.  

 The knock comes. It’s three ruffians and a couple of cops, no less thuggish. They grab his collar, demand to know where the couple has gone. It’s only five minutes to the trains arrival now. Rao quickly directs the five men and points down the track. The cops ask him if it’s safe to go down the tracks. Rao tells them the next train is ten minutes away, they have plenty of time. They set off in pursuit, down the dark tracks, the grisly end unbeknownst. Rao comes back to his desk and gets back to his dinner. The beetroot pachadi is extra spicy today. It hits the spot.