Gift of the Gremlins

                Dear Dad,

                                It is my birthday on the sixteenth and I asked mother for a gift. She said that I would be turning six and I should stop acting like a small baby and should stop thinking of mat-rels-tic gifts. Then I told her I did not want an expensive toy because I know she does not have the money to buy it. I asked her for me to spend a day with you. She argued at first but when I said I would run away with the gremlins, she finally agreed but only allowed me to stay out for three hours. Mom tells me you have a lot of money but don’t share with her. Please buy me the red toy train at Gilbert Studio for my birthday. I will send this letter with Mr. Agnes. Mom does not know about it and please do not tell her.

                                                                                                                                            With Love,

                                                                                                                                                Peter.

Robert had received this letter a week ago and had broken down in his tiny apartment. There was no one to comfort him, so he sobbed until his tears ran dry. His tears partially reflected the love of his child and the extent he had gone to reach to his father. But mostly it was for the fact that he could not buy him the train. Living in a clogged apartment for two years, he had little known extreme money. His landlord was a noble man who empathized with him and never uttered a word about the eccentric and disproportionate payments made by him for his stay at the dilapidated room.

The room barely held together the title of a house. Walls damped always by the drainage pipe running against the exterior often gave away the distemper that was applied to counter the damping. Fumes and rancid smells from the nearby public latrine only left the house when government officials sprayed its walls with perfumed medicine. Furniture was only an ancient table whose right leg was replaced by a rack of old books and a delicate chair with an imbricate design of the 90’s.

Robert had made up his mind about the toy train. He had to gift his son the first thing ever that he had asked of him. The week had therefore turned out to be more hectic than usual.

The first thing that he did was write a letter to Mr. Baruch about his predicament. Mr. Baruch was the man for whom Robert had once worked. He was a generous man and some said that he gave Robert a job only out of pity. Despite any ground-breaking skills, Robert was hired only to carry out daily odd jobs for the fat man in his office. Whether Mr Baruch paid him or the government was a mystery that rattled many minds. Robert had lost this job when Mr Baruch retired from his post of the Municipality Manager. ‘I can’t keep you at the office, I won’t be there any longer. But you can contact me whenever you need help’ were the last words to his steward.

Robert paid him a visit on the first day of the week only to realise he had gone on a family vacation and would be returning on the next day. The next day did not see a return of the short man with pointy ears and neither did the one that followed. Therefore he decided to leave a note for him and hand it over to the colony’s caretaker.

His thin ray of hope was evanescence when he realised something. Carnal, a young stoutly built man had once taken a sum of 200 rupees against a promise of returning it in a month. That was a better time for Robert, so he bothered not when the money did not return. But now he was in dire need of it! Therefore having passed the note to the old caretaker he at once made for Carnal’s house.

“Hey, could you give me back the money you took from me a long time ago?” he asked as gently as he could.

“What money?” he replied in his bold husky voice.

“The two hundred you had taken about two years ago” he replied gathering all his courage.

Carnal thought for a while with his thumb caressing his stubble, “Oh yeah! I had given it to Kareem to give it to you.”

“He did not give me any money”

“Not my problem. You go ask him!”

“He died last year. How can I ask him?”

“Least of my worries.”

“NO! How do I even know you gave him the money! I need my money NOW!”

Two straight punches onto his face, he dropped dead on the littered ground. “Then I shall send you to him to ask for yourself!” Another charged kick on the abdomen and Robert was growling in pain. He passed out of the pain and when he woke up, there was no living soul around. He put himself together and somehow managed to limp back to his room. All doors seemed to have closed shut and Robert burst into tears and cried himself to sleep.

The following morning was no epiphany either. He got out of his room and decided to spend 10 rupees on food. After an efficient meal of three bananas, he sauntered down St Mark Road, broken into pieces. On one side of the road was a small hotel. On careful inspection, Robert noticed that the cook, the servant and the dishwasher was just a single man.

“I can help you with the dishes” he said it staring at the thin man’s feet.

“Go away. I don’t need any help”

Robert lifted his head and replied staring him in the eye, “Yes you do! You are earning money for yourself now, but many customers – hungry, angry customers – are walking away because you cannot attend to them. Let me help you and I promise no man will leave this place hungry. With the crowd doubled you will earn more and I only demand a small share of the earnings. Rich people have it all, even the trinkets and the poor are left with nothing. Be a good man and help me and yourself.”

The unimaginably reedy man stared him back in the eye. He knew the lone dweller was right. After a moment of thinking he replied, “Alright. I need a worker for four days, then my staff will be back. I will only give you 150 Rupees a day, food will be free.”

“Alright!” he said in excitement and took the stool at the wash place at once.

600 Rupees in four days. He could now afford the gift and save money to take his son out for some snacks. That was it! All grief and sorrow gradually faded away as he worked hard daily - morning to evening. The cook only attended to the cooking. Robert served the orders with a smile. From scalding morning tea to affordable lunch to evening delectations. All was served in the small roadside hotel. Robert did not find it offensive when some cursed the quality of the food or the service being offered. However he once got into a bantam argument with an ugly man who refused to pay for after being served. Now, after forty hours of hard work, it was finally time for his reward.

On Tuesday evening the owner came to Robert who sat outside staring at the sky.

“Here’s your money” he handed out folded currency notes to him.

“This is only two hundred”

“Yes”

“You said I’d get 150 a day, 600 for four!”

“You were supposed to. But you did only one third of the work!” he paused “The customers were not happy with the work. Occasionally I myself had to come out of the cooking counter and attend to the customers. There was barely any work on Saturday and Sunday. Monday did not see many customers either because of the public holiday. There were customers today, but you got into an argument with one.”

“That’s not right! He didn’t pay for his meal!”

“Your argument pushed away people to the nearby stall. Hiring you was a mistake!”

“You cannot do this!” he grabbed his collar with both his hands pushing his wrath into the cunning man’s eyes.

“Yes I can” he looked over at the policemen at patrol duty from the corner of his eye.

Robert had noticed them too “You’ll burn in hell for this! You have no idea why I need the money! I swear I’ll burn your place down someday!” he grumbled, spat on the mat at his door and stormed out of the place.

Only on his way back did he realise what he had done. He walked to a park and thumped down on a dilapidated bench. He looked at the money he held in his hands and was further infuriated. He was about to throw it away when an old beggar came to him. He was short and had pointy ears. His colour was unnatural and ragged clothing did not resemble that of a modern man. His eyes were huge, almost as if being pulled from the brows. He had untidy light brown hair and wore no shoes. Burning in rage, Robert at once gave the money to him.

“That is a generous amount. No one has ever given Rakim such money before” he said in an elf-like tone.

Robert kept quiet. The beggar took a step closer to Robert and whispered, “Do you believe in magic?”

“I gave you all I had. Now go away” he replied

“You soon will, sir” he said and strolled away.

Time passed, the sky turned dark and stars rose to the zenith. It grew cold and Robert leaned on one side of the bench. He pulled up his legs and gradually fell asleep. Next morning, Robert was up early with the sun. He looked around and realised how he had been a failure all his life. A failed son, a failed husband. But a failed father? No, His son would have his wish fulfilled and he would have it today!

Robert made his way to Gilbert Studio. He had groomed himself as much as he could. His shoes were torn, but tidy. He waited outside the studio for it to open. He slouched inside as inconspicuously as he could. After taking a short tour and mapping the guards and the CCTV cameras he walked quietly to the train kept in the showcase. A red miniature replica of the first locomotive to have moved across the town of Ruabgarh. The moulding was perfect and the details were finely done. How could a child not want it?

He looked around quickly and gently pushed the showcase open. He looked around once again and made for the train. His heart pounded against his chest, but he controlled his breath. Never before had he pulled off such an act. But in the end, right and wrong are only misconceptions devised by the society to brainwash you into believing what they want you to believe. He took a deep breath and put his hands around the figure. He was about to lift it when suddenly a sharp voice cried “Hey! Stop There!” Robert had missed a CCTV camera.

He ran out to the door where the guards blocked his passage. He managed to trick one and slip out from below. He rushed out and ran for his life. The guards followed, but after a while, to them, he was lost in the crowd. Robert never looked back. He kept running. He ran past the city oak tree, he ran across the wooden bridge. He ran across the park and finally to his room. As he turned to enter his alley, someone grabbed him by his leg. Startled, he looked at once.

It was Peter. His son Peter. He had grown up enough to put his hands around his fathers’ thighs. Peter was different. He was bigger. The last time he saw him, he was a toddler learning to walk. It only seemed like yesterday, but there he was! Hugging his father!

“Still running?” a woman appeared from behind.

“Rosy?”

“You take care of him for today, it was his wish to be with you today. Not mine.”

Robert was perplexed and took some time to grasp hold of the situation.

“You remember it’s his birthday, don’t you?”

“Yes of course” he replied catching his breath.

“Good, I’ll leave now.”

“Dad! You have grown so big!” he said smiling, “Let’s go to the house dad”

“Yes” he smiled back.

“I know you’ve hidden my gift up there”

Robert’s smile vanished in a click. Gloomy silence made its way back once again. The music was gone. He knew it would be the same for his son, and it would be the worst sight for him to watch. The chatter would be chintzy and love would be loathe. He had failed as a father too. Tears started to collect in his eyes as he climbed the stairs guided by his son. Every step seemed heavy and every breath tiring.

Peter ran ahead and pushed open the door. “WOW!” he screamed.

Robert went ahead only to see his son holding a neatly wrapped box that barely fit in his hands. He was taken by surprize, more than by Peter himself.

“Whose Mr Baruch?” asked Peter carefully examining the greeting card attached to the box.

Robert regained his senses and after thinking for some time smiled, “He’s your Gremlin.”