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Mohammed's Wishes

He had been hawking fruits outside the gates of our colony ever since I could remember. Like many others, Mori Road had found a place for Mohammed and if you needed to buy fruits, you could be rest assured he would give you a good deal. Mohammed was advanced in his years. A tall well built man, he sported a beard that I always felt was immaculately maintained. He was a devout Muslim who never missed his prayers and believed he was doing the bidding of the Almighty by selling his share of fruits. 

Years back in search of a better future he had left Bangladesh and made his way to Kolkata and then finally to Mumbai and therefore spoke Bengali. "It is always a pleasure to meet you Babu. I get to speak in my native tongue" he often told me. I usually bought my regular supply of fruits from him. 

It was a couple of days before Bakri Eid. I was rushing to office and saw Mohammed in our staircase, delivering fruits to someone. "Hello Babu, I have got some great apples. Do you need any?"he asked. 
"I just got some last week. Don't need them now. Durga puja is next month. Come to my place with the best you have on Mahalaya. I will need fruits and get your best pick. Wish you a happy Eid". I said. "Thank you Babu. I am on leave for three days. Busy time with my son, grandson and others. Also there is a wedding in the family coming up."he said.  "Enjoy Mohammedbhai, but your fruits are too costly." I said as rushed down the stairs.. "Go slowly Babu, you will reach in time." he hollered after me.

Eid went by. October was here. I was scheduled to travel and would be back in town only on Panchami. It was the weekend before Mahalaya. I went down looking for Mohammedbhai but saw a young man and a small boy seated in his place instead. "Where is Mohammedbhai?" I asked. "I am Ismail, his son. Abbu left us during Eid. He decided it was time to go back to Allah."he said. Pointing to the young boy "This is his grandson. You are the Bangali Babu? Abbu often spoke about you and how he could speak to you in Bengali." he said. I was stunned. An icon of Mori Road that was so familiar, something that I grew up with was gone, just like that. Looking at my face and switching to Bengali, he said "Heart attack, Babu". I spoke awkwardly "I am so sorry to hear this. I knew him from many years. My parents also used to know him". There was silence. There is little that you can say in such circumstances. 

"Where do you live ?" I asked to get back to a normal conversation. "Abbu and us lived in Kandivilli."he said. I had no idea that Mohammedbhai at his age used to come all the way with his fruit basket to Mahim to sell fruits. "Do you need fruits Babu? I think Puja is coming up." He asked. "Yes. Mahalaya is next week and I am traveling, so I need some. But who is this ?" I said, pointing to the young boy standing with him. "Mohammed Junior. Abbu called him that. My son. Studies in 4th grade. Speaks little English like you Babu. Abbu was so proud of him. He has his exams coming."Ismail said. 

"I will take half a dozen apples. Give me good ones. It is for my Puja. Your father used to be at my doorstep every day during this time." I said. Ismail chose the best apples and as he put them in a bag, Mohammed Junior stepped up with two more apples. "This is from me uncle. Free. Please offer them in your Durga Puja." he said. I smiled and knelt down to ask him "And young man, what should I ask for when offering these for Puja ?" He thought for a while "Ask if my grandfather is happy and also pray that I do well in my exams. One apple for each wish" he said. 

"Have you ever seen Durga Puja?"  I asked. "No, but I heard a lot from my grandfather about it, and how it was a big festival back in Bangladesh. But will you take these two apples?" he asked. "Yes, I will. Ismail, get him to our Puja."  I said. Ismail looked at me and asked tentatively. "Can we really come ?"  I could see his hesitation and affirmed "By all means. Please do. Don't think about it. I will treat Mohammed Junior to some lovely bhog and prasad." I said. "I have to rush. Getting late" I said. as I headed back, I heard the words "Go slowly Babu. You will reach in time". Mohammed Junior said. It was my déjà vu moment. For a fleeting second as I looked back, it seemed Mohammedbhai was still there, only much younger. 

I got home. My wife was finalzing the list of names on whose behalf Puja needed to be offered. "I want to you to remember two more names for Saptami - Mohammed Senior and Mohammed Junior and keep these two apples aside. They are special." She looked at me bewildered. "I hope this is not a joke. Every Mahalaya strange things happen to you" she said. "Nope, just excited Mahalaya is coming up and the festive spirit et al" I said. And secretly to all of you, the magical spirit of Mori Road still lives on. 

Happy Mahalaya folks. Enjoy, the next ten days. Every good wish is a prayer. 


Comments

Dr. Ashok Chandran said…
Very touching story Sam. I loved it. Keep writing. God Bless.
8:44 PM
Chakori boudi said…
Very nice musings Samudra! It is always a sentimental moment when old memories crop up. HAPPY PUJA!
Chakori boudi
9:56 PM
Chakori boudi said…
Very nice musings! These are sentimental moments when old memories are triggered.
HAPPY PUJA!
9:58 PM
Unknown said…
As usual I just sit quietly reflecting, after having read your story!! Hope you can do this more sometime in life....
8:22 AM
Anonymous said…
Much more of this please
7:47 PM
Sudhakar said…
Soulful!
5:36 AM
Sudhakar said…
Soulful!
5:36 AM
Sudhakar said…
Soulful!
5:36 AM
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