The Cart Man

THE CART MAN

The crowd had gathered. A cart carrying pumpkins overturned in the middle of the town. The cart owner was trying to put the cart straight. No one came forward to help. Finding helpless he pleaded that someone help him out. But no one from the crowd stepped ahead. He knew they would not.

A stranger stepped forward and helped him. The cart owner sweating and breathless thanked the man, “It appears you are not from town?”

The stranger nodded. “The town is not unfriendly.  You wander around and each one is staring at you. Even the bucks in your pocket are worthless.”

The cart owner started collecting his pumpkins. All were watching with sympathy for the loss he had suffered. Some of his pumpkins had cracked that were of no worth for him. He did not pick up those. He knew once he would leave the poverty stricken hapless creatures standing around would pounce upon legal vultures upon the leftovers. 

It was ominous day. He started early in the morning as it was a distance of three miles for which he had to push the cart himself to reach the market in the town. His only son who had consented to help him push the cart the previous night backed out in the morning. He knew it was his daughter in law who would have prevailed upon the worthless man. 

Once his pumpkins would be gathered he would have to face that Commission Agent who loved nothing but the bucks only. The wife and children of the Agent had severed their relations. He lived alone and counted his money four times in a day. The man once in market would have to bargain with that miser soul.  

He had great expectations from his son. His wife had selected a beautiful girl for his son from three villages away who was stated to be apt in household chores. But within few days of marriage there was hardly left any love to be lost between her and parents in laws. The family matters had to be kept discreet and that had compelled him to keep his sufferings to himself.

The whole town had two years back suffered from plague. It was some curse. The British, who had come from distant land, blamed the rats for the epidemic. He failed to make out how rats can cause deaths without even biting anyone. The plague had left few members in families. There were thefts and lynching for food. Diabolical it was but rumours were that to survive many ate dead ones. Unbelievable first, but might be true. The town believed that plague was caused by sondas, a tribe living five hundred miles away. 

He had heard the Chief of the market addressing all present, “Sondas are demons who can transform. They roam around and spread plague. The State thinks we are fools. We are not. Rats are nowhere to be blamed. We have been living with rats. Has anyone heard in past the rats causing deaths? No. The best way to be safe is not allow a stranger to be in the town.”

Eleven years back they were ruled by a King. The British allege the King submitted his sovereignty and thenceforth was part of British India. The Government had announced then that they would bring economic prosperity and education. A school was started in the town. The kids were taught there. The school for higher studies was about hundred miles from the town. The King never made promises. All the people had to do was to pay taxes and bow when he came around. The British made promises but did not fulfil. But some changes were around. He could sell his vegetables in the town for better prices.

He had collected the pumpkins worth putting up for sale. He assessed the loss that was dampening. It would take another seven days to make up the loss. But he had suffered such losses on many occasions. Last week while returning to home from market he was robbed by five men. Who could trust anyone? Last year the crops failed. It’s famine. Again curse of some diety. 

The stranger joined him in collecting pumpkins. He looked at him with suspicion. The crowd was now keeping a distance from the two.

He whispered to him, “From where do you come?”

“From the parched land five hundred miles away.”

“Are you from Sondas, those men of great talent, who can transform to any other being?”

The stranger smiled, “I am a Sondas; but we don’t transform. I mean we remain as we are.”

He did not wish harm to the man who had helped him, “Town is not friendly to strangers; to Sondas all the more. Don’t disclose you are a Sondas. They will devour you.”

The stranger panicked but composed himself. He bowed and was lost in crowd. He did not understand how could someone be helpful and demonic at the same time. But one could not trust any stranger.

The cart was now loaded. The stranger who was ready to help him had gone. He could have got some help from him. He started pushing the cart which had got lighter due to the damage caused by its overturning. 

“What are you all looking at me?” He called out. “I am ain’t no stranger. I come here every day to the town.”

The crowd moved backwards. He started pushing the cart. He heard two young men walking along with him saying, “The world war is around. India Congress has thrown its weight behind Whites. The freedom might be again a distant dream.”

The other man replied, “Need not. The British Government has promised they would leave once war is over.”

“Hope so. The famine of Bengal has already caused immense loss to the Government.”

He had no idea what they were talking about. But from the time he had heard of the war he was getting less price for his produce. Thinking all through he was now in the market.

“Today there is no one to take your pumpkins.” Shouted the commission agent.

“Why?”

“You are late.”

“My cart turned over. I have already suffered loss.”

“So what can be done? The market can’t be blamed. Why don’t you buy ox? Have an ox driven cart.” The suggestion from Commission Agent wasn’t bad, but where were the finances.

Now he had another trouble haunting him, where to dump the produce. None would keep the produce safe for him for the next day. 

Engrossed and bemused he sat on the platform. At that moment he noticed a hustle in the market. He saw the Stranger talking to one trader after another but they were not ready to assist him. The stranger was now only ten feet away.

He called him, “Man, what are you in search of?”

The Stranger looked at him.  He smiled and wiped sweat from his forehead. “As I told you we are heading for war. All I need is a place to stay for two days. By then my other fellows will arrive in the town. But no one is ready to bail me out.”

To take a stranger to home was a big issue in the town from the days of plague. He himself was in dilemma where to keep his produce. But he must help the man who had been kind to him. He called the Stranger and whispered to him.

The duo went near the Commission Agent. The man called out to the Agent, “This man speaks that I doubt can be true and I must not utter that before everyone.”

The Stranger whispered, “Here did live my ancestors who had buried a pot of jewels in 1857 when the war was fought. Now all I need is two days to stay and search for that. But I get no place to live.”

The man questioned, “Aha! You think the folks here shall believe you? You a stranger in the town is not welcome. I coming here every day, am still alien to all.”

“How do you I convince you? I come from five hundred miles travelling day and night with and without food. Taking risk from so far off land is not worth. Japanese forces are advancing and if they reach here they will dig out every corner of city. They believe the city had huge treasures in its breast.”

The Commission Agent was keenly listening to the Stranger. He asked the man and stranger to come to his shop.

“You both stay if you want in the foray of the shop. But whatever you find must have my share?”

Stranger looked at him with a gape, “Why you should have a share?”

The Agent on the question that could have come from the genuine seeker was getting convinced. “Why should not I have a share? I am the one who provides you a shelter.”

The man took the side of Stranger, “But the treasure belongs to his ancestors. He is the only rightful owner.” Now the Agent was sure that both the fellows had treasure knowhow. 

The Agent sternly laid down, “If you don’t pay me ten percent, I shall not allow to lay before my shop?”

The parties started bargaining and finally it was settled at seven percent of the treasure. The Agent who had nothing precious in his shop finally agreed to open the shop for them for the night. The duo stayed for the night.

The Stranger in the morning thanked the man, “If you had not come to my help it would have been really tough for a stranger like me.”

The man grinned, “Stranger we all are but the treasures binds us.”  

                       THE END