The sky had a very beautiful and clear sunset as the air carried much less of what would otherwise flatten the colors around. The sound of crickets began to catch their tone and intensity. Raghu walked home, tired from the day’s toil, carrying a packet of milk in his hand that he had bought on the way.
A university campus was being built 17 km away from the village. Raghu had found work there in construction. That is what he has done his whole life, working as a contractual manual labor.
Raghu opened the gates of a one floored house consisting of a small compound, a small two room setup. The house could use a fresh coat of paint.
Raghu freshened up and was about to set foot into the kitchen when the electricity went off, a regular occurrence in the village. He ended up preparing a cup of tea, with the help of a half-burnt candle and the light from the flashlight of this smartphone.
Raghu was still attached to the old transistor radio. He carried it along with the cup of tea and sat on a small chair in the compound. A radio channel played old classics as Raghu sipped the tea, he spent some time looking at this smartphone and some time looking at the sky. He had some leftover from the day before, that he finished eating in the compound.
Raghu had started working very early in his life to support the family. He had not completed his schooling. His younger brother however had a different childhood, he got to complete his education, he went to college, he had settled down in a town with a decent job and their parents decided to go and live in town with their younger son as well.
Raghu had been to the town a few times, spent enough time to understand that he was out of place, especially when his younger brother indirectly indicated that what would people think that while he himself held a good job his elder brother Raghu was just a manual labour. Raghu hadn’t been to the town ever since and the calls from his parents went unanswered.
Raghu did not mind his life; he was even considering the suggestion of getting married given by his uncle. There was a lot to look ahead, he had made it this far, maybe the waters ahead show a bit more uncertainty, but there was a way to move through it without getting lost.
By Anuran Chatterji
One response to “What Remains”
A deeply moving and realistic portrayal of an ordinary man carrying extraordinary burdens in silence. Raghu’s story reminds us that a person’s worth can never be measured by education, profession, or social status. The pain of being made to feel inferior by one’s own family is perhaps the hardest to bear.
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