As we were to set out with our two children for day-long trip of the holy city of Rishikesh after breakfast at our sister’s home where we were lodged, I suggested her two kids to join us, which would be a bonus pleasure to them. They were, as if awaiting the opportunity. I recalled my childhood days when arrival of outstation guests with holdall and metallic trunk was always exhilaration since their presence meant relaxations in the family norms, special meals and chances of outing with them.
There was something divinely rejuvenating in Ganga river flowing on one side across the Lakshmanjhula (the suspension bridge) or in the variegated, floral ambience so each one of our six-member team was fresh and eager to take a stroll further despite having taken sumptuous lunch at famed Chotiwala dhaba en route. Those days, in a Thali one could have as much of any item as one wanted unlike now, just limited to four chapatis, dal, some rice, two vegetables, papad, raita, one sweet dish, all served once, and anything additional on extra payment.
After visiting several temples, we passed through the undulating pathway interspersed with shops selling idols, antics, toys and decorative items of various descriptions on either side till the hustle made way for a serene setting. The thundering clouds above did not dampen the spirits of the children. Shortly, the torrential rains upset us. Nonplussed, we witnessed a petty vendor ensconced by a protective trunk of a bulky tree. Close by lay his bicycle with a tarpaulin overlaying containers of snacks & biscuits. The sense of my wife worked, who politely said to the vendor, “See, these children are like yours. Please let them lurk beneath that cover, so they are shielded from rain”. As the rain god bid adieu and the vendor got ready to leave, we thanked him profusely for helping the children.
The chill in the weather warranted hot tea or coffee. We get what we strongly want, it is said. Shortly the view of a tea stall came in sight. With the beverage served, someone placed two plates on our table, one with biscuits and other with delicious snacks.
We gazed at the man. To our surprise it was the same vendor who had sheltered our children in the rain. Before we could say something to convey our gratefulness, the man had left and moved afar. When leaving, we asked the man at the counter for the bill. Pat came the reply, “Rs. 30, for six cups of tea”. I reminded him, there were snacks and biscuits too. “That has been settled by the vendor”, we were told.
That happened over a score of years ago. But ever since, whenever I find a snacks delivery man, the benign figure of the magnanimous vendor we encountered in the pelting rain comes back to refresh my memory.
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Published in Edit page of The Tribune, on 30 October 2020. Link: https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/musings/magnanimity-of-a-petty-vendor-163199
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