Baliram
First time I saw Baliram was at the Pediatric clinic opposite to my apartment complex.
On that Saturday, the rush was more than usual in the clinic, as a number of young parents queued up for their toddlers’ vaccinations and other illnesses.
A 40 something, partly grey haired, shabby looking man came almost running from the other end of the street with an infant on his shoulder. The baby girl, somewhat 2 year old, cried incessantly as the man tried to soothe her unsuccessfully. The security in front of the clinic wouldn’t let the man in. He has only a 100 Rupee soiled note in his hand. The board outside the clinic said ‘Consultation Fee 300 Rs’. Moreover, the ‘social status’ of the man and the shoddy, torn clothes he was wearing also did not support his request for entry.
The man pleaded with the security person repeatedly…. he was almost in his tears. The baby’s cries overshadowed his thin voice. After a few minutes of pleading with security guy, he tried to force himself in. A forceful push from the security guard and he fell down on the road. He continued to argue with the security guard even before he could get up from the road. After a few more seconds of unsuccessful altercation with the security guard, the man turned back. With the uncontrollably crying baby in his shoulder, he started walking back. His weak face with stubble wouldn’t reveal the emotion he was going through - was that anger? Sadness ? Distress? Security guard turned back with a sense of satisfaction that he was doing his job as per wishes of his master.
The man walked over the burning road, with the baby on his shoulders. I watched him disappear on the far end of the road, towards the bus stop.
A few days later, as I was doing some maintenance work in my apartment, he appeared again. He came in the morning, with the baby on his shoulders. Baby was put to sleep on the temporary cradle he set up in the nearby tree or allowed to play on the mud while she was not sleeping
Once in a while the senior mason shouted at him for spending time to attend to the baby in the middle of his work.
As I handed over a couple of old toys to the baby, her eyes sparkled.
All along, I was wondering why the baby is always with its father, not with the mother.
From the broken conversations with him during the course of next 2 weeks, I knew he was staying alone with his daughter in one of the huts built on the pavement of the nearby street, by the construction workers from Bihar. He had come to Bangalore 2 years back.
“Bihar mein kaam milnaa mushkil hai kyaa..”?
“Nahee saab.. Mai kuch aur kaam ke liye idhar aaya hoon”.
He has his aged parents back in Chapra, Bihar. They are bedridden and he needs to send money every month for their expenses and medicines. He and his wife were staying in the jhopdi next to his parents’ hut.
Despite frequent fights with Kamla, his wife, over his drinking habit, life for Baliram was going great.
No, but not for long. Kamla had befriended Kumar, who lived nearby. Kumar was a young and energetic guy who did carpentry work.
One evening, when Baliram returned home, his youngest daughter Prema, 5 months old, was moving around in front of the hut and eating mud. His hut was empty. Neither his wife nor his two sons were to be seen.
Kamla had eloped with her new found love Kumar. She took both the elder sons with her leaving behind the 5-month-old Prema.
Baliram searched for his wife and kids for a few days in the nearby localities, without any success. He decided to go back to his usual routine. He carried his baby along wherever he went for work. His aged parents lived nearby, but was too old to take care of the baby.
Young Prema used to be the darling of her elder brothers. They used to look after her like a little princess.
“If Kamla does not want me, it is ok… But I want my kids back. All 3 of my kids should grow up together.. I will get my kids back at any cost”. Baliram would often repeat this to his friends.
Some of his friends who had been to Bangalore for jobs, mentioned they saw Kamla somewhere in the garden city – either in the bus stand or some construction site.
Baliram wanted to get his kids back at any cost. So, one day, he decided to board a train to Bangalore, after appointing his cousin to look after his parents.
And, now, it has been 2 years since he arrived in Bangalore.
Every Sunday, Baliram took time off. On Sunday mornings, he will wake up early, take the BMTC bus and go in search of his wife to different parts of the city… The routine had continued for last 2 years without success and still he had not lost hope.
“I will get back my kids… I am sure that Kumar won’t look after them well.. They will be crying to see their young sister.. All 3 of my kids should grow up together”
Once, during one of his weekend search trips, he was caught by the police in the suspicion that he was kidnapping a baby. He could not answer the questions of the law keepers and got thrashed left and right in the lock up as his 2-year-old baby sat crying on the floor in front of the inspector’s desk. By the time the policemen realized his innocence and released him, he was barely able to walk. He had to stop going for work for a week.
Soon, another tragedy struck him.
As new building construction began in the labouror’s colony area, he lost his hut. One evening when he came back to his hut, the JCBs had already demolished his hut. The earthern pots had been broken into pieces. Whatever remaining useful items he could find from the debris, he gathered and put into a small rice bag. He walked with the baby on one hand and the half-filled rice bag on the other shoulder, the only possessions he had in this world.
He slept on the verandah of the nearby shop in the midst of the severe cold weather. It was December. Prema, his kid, had already resigned to her fate and slept in the cold winter night without even a blanket.
Now living without a roof over his head, he had other pressures to defend. Some people advised him to hand over the child to some orphanage. Some childless couple in the colony even asked him to hand over the child to them for a sum. He was not ready to part with her. She was the only real possession he could claim to be his own.
Despite all the difficulties he faced, he continued his search for his wife and sons every weekend. That was his mission and his life goal for now. He wrote letters to his parents back home and kept them updated about the progress of his search. In every letter, he expressed hope that he will be able to return to hometown with all of his kids in next 2-3 months. The deadlines had breached several times now and his parents had started advising him to abandon his search and come back.
Weeks passed and Baliram continued his routine.
In a work place accident, his right arm was severely injured. Due to the severe pain, he could not use the right arm when he was at work. Life became more and more difficult as contractors stopped calling him for work. Baliram wouldn’t give up. He tried to do double the work with one hand so that he could compensate for the lack of one hand. But gradually he was being avoided by his contractor. Finally he had to give up the masonry work and take up the security guard job in the nearby ATM kiosk.
After Baliram moved to the ATM job, I used to meet him more often.
Baby Prema would play in the ATM kiosk all day long. Regular visitors to the kiosk, offered her chocolates and old toys. Even an old broken toy meant a world for her. She was too young to understand the hardships his father and herself were going through. For anyone watching her play with the old toys in the ATM kiosk, it used to give a feeling that she is the happiest child on earth.
Baliram wanted to go back to his village as soon as he gets back his sons – Bangalore had taken a toll on his life. Condition of his aged parents back in Chapra was deteriorating by day. Baliram was worried that his search for Kamla and kids will take much more time and perhaps he may not be able to see his parents again. He eagerly waited for that Golden moment when he finds his kids somewhere in Bangalore.
There was nothing going in favor of him. He had lost his home, he had lost his right arm. But he was not ready to give up.
“I want my kids back. All 3 of my kids should grow up together.. with me in my hut in my village..I will look after them like rajkumars… I will get my kids back at any cost”.
“What if your wife and her new husband refuse to hand over the kids to you?”
“No.. as soon as my sons see me, they will come with me, they are so fond of me. Kamla must be treating them as burden in her new life”.
“However, that was 3 years back… his sons have not seen him for so long. They would have already forgotten him..” I held back my thoughts. I did not want to throw cold water on his dreams.
His search operations continued… it seemed like an endless search for a treasure…
In the nights, he lost sleep and would sit beside his innocent daughter and the foregone sufferings would play out in his mind… A happy family in his village… 3 lovely kids… and then the rude shock on the evening when he came back to his empty house.. looking after the 5 month old kid… travelling to Bangalore after taking permission from his parents. Endless weekend searches… cruel accident which left him one-armed.. losing job, getting thrashed by police… losing his hut, living in the shop verandah for months…
But he still was not ready to give up. He had one mission – he need to find his kids. He was ready to toil for that mission any more number of years.
A few months passed. …..
It had been a couple of months since I saw Baliram as I got too busy at work this time.
One Saturday morning, I got a call from the main gate security of my apartment. Someone had come to see me and they wouldn’t allow the man in. The security guys wanted me to go to the gate and finish off the meeting.
As I walked near the gate, I saw the frail looking, extremely week & tired, skinny man leaning against the grill of the gate. It took me some time to identify that it was Baliram.
He stood at the gate, like a shadow. When I walked near, he handed a paper wrapper to me, which he hiding in his hand.
“Sir, This is the money I had borrowed from you a few months back, to take Prema to doctor. Wanted to return it before I leave Bangalore”.
He is leaving Bangalore…? I was shocked and confused.
But I was more shocked and curious about Prema – in fact I had never seen him without his daughter Prema on his shoulders.
“Where is Prema - your daughter?”
“She is now with her mother”.
Shocked again.
“Oh good – so finally you found her….” I somehow hid my shock.
“But that was not your plan”. I couldn’t withhold what I wanted to ask.
He looked away. Then a feeble voice followed “For her own good, I allowed her mother to take Prema with her”
I couldn’t hear what he told next. His feeble voice got completely lost in the noise generated by the tractor which passed through the road.
As his lips moved as if in a silent movie against the noisy road, in my mind, I saw a frail looking man running to the clinic with his crying baby, his endless weekend searches through the dusty streets of Bangalore, a man collecting his belongings from the debris of his hut and walking away in search of a place to sleep, a one-handed man being thrashed by the police in the lock up.
During all these, his driving force, the only motivation factor, was the dream of regaining his kids one day and going back to Bihar with all his kids..
And now…
And now, to my astonishment, he had given up on his dreams… He had given away his daughter to her mother, rather than getting back his 2 sons as he had planned out.
In my mind, he was just a shadow of that same iron willed man who was obsessed with his life goal of getting his kids back.
As I stood there without knowing what to talk, he narrated the rest of the story.
After almost 3 years of search, he had found his wife living in the city outskirts towards Mysore. Kamla, her new husband Kumar, Baliram’s two sons and a newborn baby. They were comparatively well off, compared to Baliram who was barely managing 2 half meals and sleeping on open verandahs.
Baliram expected his elder kids to run towards him as soon as they saw him. Nothing happened. They looked at him like a stranger. They had very well adjusted to their new life and forgotten Baliram completely.
There were arguments and counter arguments over the possession of the kids. Baliram shouted his lungs out… all the hidden emotions and suffering of the past few years came out…
When Kamla came out of the initial shock, she argued that little Prema also be ‘returned’ to her.
Then there were more arguments
Then Baliram tried to forcefully take possession of his sons. The boys tried to run away from him.
Then the matters turned ugly.
Kumar, joined by his friend & neighbor, badly beat up Baliram. They beat him mercilessly until he fell into the nearby drainage.
As the crowd watched without extending a helping hand, he somehow dragged himself out of the drainage. Soil and blood all-over his body, he sat on the ground, flanked by Prema and cried his heart out. Reality dawned on him. Neither his sons, nor his wife will let him fulfill his wish – of taking all the 3 kids with him back to his village.
Tears rolled down his cheeks. He cried for the first time in so many years…
His dream – his soul aim of life - for last few years had been shattered. All his efforts.. all his sufferings of last 3 years just got washed away in the drain.
The world had come crashing down on him.
The neighbors and even his sons watched him as if they were looking at a trouble making drunkard.
Baliram do not remember how much time he sat there, crying. Prema also cried with her father, though she did not understand what was happening around her. Luckliy Kumar or Kamla never tried to snatch away Prema from him. They were just praying that Baliram go away from their colony at the earliest.
He returned back to his place that evening with Prema. He discussed with his friends about how to get the kids back. He could not find anyone to help him in taking his sons from Kamla. He, being a one-handed fragile man, was unable to do anything on his own.
Most of his friends advised him to leave Prema also with his wife.
“It’s a girl child. She should grow up with her mother.”
“You have just one hand… how will you take care of her?”
“All your kids should grow together… you only were telling this. You must allow Prema to be with her mother and brothers”
“You can’t even marry her off to a good boy… who will come for the daughter of a one handed destitute like you… When she grows up she will blame you for putting her into trouble. “
“She has not lived happily since her birth. If she joins her mother now, at least she can have food 3 times a day”.
Baliram did not sleep that night. He turned and twisted on the cold floor. Sat up and watched her daughter’s innocent face for hours. Ever since he became crippled with functionless left hand, he had struggled to make enough money for giving her 3 proper meals everyday. He felt terribly guilty for that. Of all things, he does not want her to blame him for her plight, when she grows up.
The next day, he took out some money from the small piggy bank, in which he had been collecting some coins to be used for her marriage. He took Prema to the nearby textile shop and bought a new frock and shirt, which replaced the torn one she was wearing most of the time. Bought some crackers and sparklers. Prema was demanding for the crackers ever since she saw the past Diwali celebrations in Bangalore. Baliram had refused as he did not want to waste money.
That evening he celebrated Diwali with his little daughter. Prema was wearing new clothes. In fact Baliram had never seen her so beautiful. It was hot summer month of May and Diwali day had already passed 7 months back.
He took her to the nearby Sukhsagar hotel for dinner. Prema slept happily that day – more than any other day since her birth.
But, Baliram had another sleepless night. He knew that it was the last few hours he could spend with his beloved daughter. The whole night he spent just by looking at the cute innocent face of little Prema.
The next morning, as the daylight started spreading its wings, Baliram got up and silently packed all her belongings in a small rice bag. There was nothing much to pack anyway. He put the piggy bank also in the rice bag. It had some more money left. As the day dawned, he set off from his place carrying his daughter on his shoulders - One last time.
As he handed over his daughter to his wife he only requested one thing –
“Please don’t run away from her one day just like what you did 3 years back.”
“Also, please invite me for her marriage. I want to witness her marriage”.
His wife just nodded. He left the rice bag with her – including the piggy bank with all his life savings in it.
It was summer at its hottest peak. The Sun was boiling over his head. Even after Kamla took the crying Prema inside the house, he stood there for a few more minutes, hoping to get a glimpse of the child one more time.
As he turned and walked back, he was so tired and exhausted. Exhaustion, which he never felt while roaming around the unknown corners of the city for 3 years. Exhaustion, which he never felt when he lost the roof over his head or even when he was captured by police and got thrashed or on those countless nights when he and his daughter went to sleep hungry.
In the evening, he reached back to his place totally tired.
Sleep evaded him at night. The begging face of his daughter when he was leaving her, haunted him day and night. The summer Sun was now boiling inside his stomach. The only solace – his kids were now together and hopefully Prema will get a better life than the one she would have got had she remained with him.
Baliram wanted to see his daughter and sons once again and say good bye. He had decided to leave Bangalore – at least he can be of some help to his parents now in their last days.
The next Sunday he again set out to Kamla’s house so he could see the kids, especially Prema. He was welcomed by a closed house. They had shifted from the old place to some safer place where Baliram would not follow them again. Neighbours could not tell him where they went.
He silently walked back. The crying face of his daughter, at the time of parting with her, tore through his heart.
“May God give her a peaceful life… My little girl” His heart wept.
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he picked up the small plastic bag kept at the bottom of the gate pillar.
“I don’t have the energy and health to go in search of them for another 3 years”…. Words tumbled out slowly.
“I’m returning back by morning train. Will look after my parents in whatever little time is left for them in this world”.
He took the small plastic bag as he started walking. “I will wait for Prema’s marriage. Kamla has agreed to invite me for the marriage. I will wait for that day.”
He wiped his face and started walking fast before I could say anything.
A sand laden truck passed by throwing up a lot of dust into the air. Dust filled the corner of my eyes. As I wiped my eyes and looked up, Baliram paused for a moment, looked back for the final good bye, with a tiresome smile on his face.
A smile… behind which he hid the sufferings of last 3 years.
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