NothingPerSonal

A few days ago, I was sitting in a small local jewellery shop, looking at gifts, when an elderly man walked in.

He must have been in his eighties. His white kurta-pyjama was worn and slightly frayed. He had a beard and unkempt hair.

He asked the jeweller to show him some silver toe rings.

The shopkeeper took out a few pairs. The man looked at them, chose one and asked the price.

‘Eight hundred and eighty rupees’.

He took out his money – ten-rupee notes, twenties, fifties and hundreds…and sat in a corner of the shop to count it.

I watched quietly as he went through the notes. When he finished, he looked at the shopkeeper.

‘Tees rupay kam hain’.

The shopkeeper paused for a moment, then said, ‘Theek hai, aap le lo’.

The man smiled and handed over the eight hundred and fifty rupees he had counted. The jeweller put the toe rings in a tiny plastic packet and gave it to him.

But he didn’t leave just yet.

‘Woh kuch chhota sa rang biranga thela hota hai… woh de sakte hain?’

The shopkeeper took out a little brocade pouch, slipped the toe rings inside and handed it to him.

His expression stayed with me. He looked so happy, so pleased with his purchase. Even the little bag mattered. He wanted it to look like a gift, too.

I couldn’t help asking, ‘Aap apni wife ke liye le rahe hain?’

“Haan, haan,” he said, smiling. “Aaj meri biwi assi saal ki hui hai. Uska mann tha bichhiya pehenne ka. Main kaafi time se paise jama kar raha tha.”

His wife was turning eighty. She had wanted silver toe rings and he had been saving to buy them for her birthday.

I looked at the notes he had handed over. Tens, twenties, fifties… now I knew why there were so many small denominations.

While he was still talking to us, someone came into the shop and asked him to move his cycle rickshaw.

That was when I realised he was a rickshaw puller.

He thanked the shopkeeper, said ‘Dhanyavaad’ and left with his little brocade bag.

I would have loved to see his wife open it.

I’ve thought about him a few times since that day. There was something so sweet about how happy he was to buy her something she had wanted. At eighty, her birthday was still an occasion he had been saving and planning for.

And I’m glad the shopkeeper let those thirty rupees go.