Roshan

Shabeena was a Muslim girl and Kishan,  a Hindu. But when they fell in love, religion could not do much and they got married  despite stiff protests from both the families. She liked to remain a housewife as she had no higher education. She would cook tasty food for her husband and looked after him with all her love. They were living happily, each living for the other  whole-heartedly. 

Ten long years passed but Shabeena could not conceive. They prayed to all known Gods and deities, but none blessed them with a baby. Even the doctors they consulted were of the view that she  would not conceive due to some abnormal disorders in her womb. Kishan’s family members insisted him to divorce her so that he could  have another married life. And if God willing, children as well. But he loved her  more than anything on earth and the more his family members tried to find faults with her, the relation became stronger, Kishan  finding all virtues in her.  He knew very well that if he had divorced her, she would end up her life - so interwoven was their attachment for each other.

One day as Shabeena was washing clothes in the river, she saw a basket made of bamboo floating nearby. At times, the rear side of the basket dipped into water, and after a moment, the front side dipped,  showing signs of life.  She felt that a fisherman’s fish-basket must have got into the water and the fish jumped within to save their lives. She swam to grab it. She found to her wonder a new born baby in the basket, wrapped in rags. She took the baby in her arms, embraced him  and adopted the baby as her son. She believed that God heard her endless prayers and bestowed her with a son. Her joy had no limits.

With the arrival of the baby, whom she named Roshan,  life became colourful to Shabeena and her husband Kishan.  Each moment, she  would look at him to see how much he has grown. Many times, she would forget to cook food. And if at all she cooked food in time, she would forget to add salt. She would learn new lullabies to lull him though she knew quite a number of old lullabies for she didn’t know which lullaby make him sleep. She took special care to lull the baby as she had heard from her grandmother that babies grew while they slept.

Though her  family income could not afford buying lot of new dresses to him, they  made it a point to buy as many  dresses as they  could. In order to find money for this purpose, they  decided that no new dresses would be bought for them,  no matter whatever be the occasion. Thus, they  could buy enough dresses for him. Roshan thanked for all that they  did by smiling - the only act he knew then!

Shabeena’s house situated on the bank of Narmada. She  had some hens at her home. She learnt from old aged women that during spate, pythons would come out in search of hens, which might attract a casualty to Roshan. This made her sell all the hens in the market.

Kishan was working as Leverman. The level cross and cabin where he worked situated on the other side of the bridge. Both sides of the river was  surrounded by thick forest. A narrow road leading to a distant  village was the only intersection in that area in the railway line.  The bridge was almost a kilometer in length. Every day, he would go to the other side of the  river through the railway bridge to perform his duty. He had to perform his duty very carefully for any lapse on his part would culminate in inexplicable havoc. A number of fast trains passed through the line.

As Roshan grew,  Shabeena observed that her son was not  responding to whatever said to him. They took him to a specialist doctor in the town, to learn that he was a deaf and dumb. And that no medicine / operation  could make him hear and speak. They took him to all known centres of pilgrimage, but of no use. This, however, could only add the intensity of love they had for him.

It had been now three  years since Roshan was born. It was a practice of the  family to distribute food to the orphanage, located in the city on every birth day of Roshan.  With whatever little resources they had, they made some dishes and took them to the orphanage. By the time they returned back home, it was evening. Kishan could not accompany them as he had to perform duty that day also. As his reliever  was ill, he could not leave the place and had to be there.  Shabeena had kept some sweet dish for Kishan in a tiffin. As usual, she went to pray to God.

Kishan  was feeling sad in his inner heart  as  he could not join them for dinner, being  Roshan’s birthday.  He, however, preferred to perform his duty, which he discharged with utmost devotion.

It was at 20.03 hrs, the G.T  Express passed through the bridge everyday.  People living on both sides of the railway line needed no clock to know the time as G.T Express was punctual in her timing. She was the fastest train that passed through the line. It was altogether a majestic sight to see her pass through the bridge. She would make a long whistle when she approached the bridge off one and half  kilometers so that no one dared to pass through the bridge, though it was legally prohibited. She would give another continuing  whistle  when she reached four hundred meters away from the  bridge. She would stop the whistle only when she crossed the bridge.

All the drivers  of the trains would make it a point to waive hands to Kishan every time the train passed by his  cabin without fail. Especially, Balu, the driver of G.T Express having long curly moustache would waive his hands with a smile.    Kishan  did not know whether the driver was thanking him for saving his life and the lives of thousands of travellers in the train.

It was raining heavily for a few days.  This made the river swell.  The  flooding waters were in its fury that it took everything on its course. On that day also, as usual, Kishan  gave the green signal to G.T Express. He was watching  out her  to pass by. He held a lantern, with green light.

He  heard the G.T Express whistling. He knew that within no time, she would be crossing the bridge. He looked at the bridge to see that everything was in order. It was then that he found in  lightning that struck the area so vehemently his only son Roshan, having reached almost middle of the bridge. He had no time left to run and save him. He cried out as loudly as he could so that Roshan might hear and save his life someway or the other. Roshan did not hear the outcry  of his father. He was carrying  a  sweet dish his  mother had prepared for him to his father while Shabeena was busy praying  to God to protect her son from all evils and casualties.

Kishan had , literally, no time left to do anything that could have saved his only son. If he opted to show the red light by just sliding the red glass in place of the green glass,  that would mean application of the emergency brakes which would result in death of Balu, the driver who used to smile at him waiving his hands out  in gratitude every time he passed through and thousands of innocent people who  travelled in the train besides extensive damage to the train, bridge and property. If he continued to show the  green light, that would mean sacrificing his only son Roshan whom he loved most. He was in a dilemma: To save Roshan or to save the entire travellers of the train including the engine driver Balu, who had long moustaches which  he trimmed elegantly.

Kishan could not think any longer by then the G.T Express reached the other side of the bridge. He had taken a decision by then. He held his head straight holding the lantern showing green light. His hands did not shake.  The G.T Express, like every day, sped fast. Kishan saw Balu smiling,  waiving his hands out, followed by a number of children playing with their parents in playful mood; some spitting the food forcibly  fed to them by their loving, but cruel parents; some taking the food voraciously; some demanding more;  some slipping to sleep in rhythm with the lullaby their grand mothers lulled;  some still looking out to see the majestic river in spate; some old aged people throwing coins into the river - a belief that gave them partial peace of mind, but no one  taking note of Kishan, the Leverman.

Drawing enough courage, Kishan went into the middle of bridge. He looked  at each section of the bridge with the impossible hope of seeing his son alive. As he was advancing in to the middle of the bridge, to his dismay, he found a tiffin, trapped in between a section of the bridge, containing hot sweet dish that Shabeena  had prepared for her son Roshan. With trembling hands, he picked up the tiffin, opened it  and threw it into the swollen river.  He could not recognize the figure of a female, running  madly on the bridge from the other end, crying out Roshan in wilderness. He could not  distinguish the outcry of Shabeena for her only son Roshan.  For a moment, Kishan last saw many Roshan in the train, playing, laughing, crying for  sweet dish and   being lulled to sleep.

He could not stay there for long because it was  time for the Toofan Mail to pass. Lifeless, he was returning to his cabin  to give signal to the train, two  whistles of which he already had heard, waiting for the green signal. A very weak call of ‘Papa’ beneath the bridge brought him back to his senses  to  feel that it was a child. He saw to his surprise Roshan , his only son, clinging on a branch of a tree, trying hard to save his life.

Without a second thought, Kishan jumped into the water, swam on to the branch of the tree, climbed on it and by guiding it to the bank , saved his only son Roshan and himself, Roshan still crying over the lost tiffin, containing the sweet dish he was carrying for his loving father Kishan.

Soon after, Shabeena  reached the cabin to see both her son Roshan and Kishan together. They stayed back there overnight and was thanking God for having saved their son. It should be called a miracle that when they were praising God, Roshan also sang the thanks giving song. He had got cured of his deafness and dumbness in the fatal fall.

Their joy had no limits. Kishan was considered for award by the railways for his utmost devotion to duty. A few members of the award committee were of the view that Kishan did not perform anything special, but discharged  his duty honestly as every Leverman was supposed to discharge. He, however, received an appreciation letter from the railways for having  set an example for other Leverman  as well.

Twenty years passed. Kishan died while in service in his attempt to avert a tragedy. His only son Roshan, though got well educated by then, was then offered a job by the railways. But Roshan stuck to do the job of Leverman at the same cabin where Kishan had worked once.