Wisdom from a Rickshaw Puller

Today was one of those days I felt I should share my breakfast. Well, the breakfast was nothing much, just a couple of samosas and a good ol' pack of the 4 rupee parle G. There was just too many thoughts running through my head this morning that I did not want to prepare something more nutritious. Actually I didn't want to do anything this morning except sleep all day. The usual zest of waking up early and doing productive things were absent. (ok.. it makes sense to strike out 'usual') I somehow kicked myself out of my home and went towards the bank. I stopped by the Amberhai Village Agarwal sweet store and bought myself a couple of samosas, a pepsi and a parle-G (just to get some change). I tried and stuff the food into my leather overnighter (which was getting heavier by the second) and was hoping for a teleport to Sector 5. There was a rickshaw guy waiting in front of the lassi shop. Not as great as a teleporter, but it would definitely work. Guess he was waiting for his lassi or something. I asked him if he'd drop me at Sector 5. He thought a bit and then said yes. I didn't ask him for the price. (really didn't care. I didn't care about anything except my good-for-nothing self) As we were trudging along, (or rather him trudging and me enjoying the ride) I decided that it was 'uncool' of me to disturb him from his breakfast, and I should share mine with him. Besides, I couldn't think of sitting out in the open and munching samosas and pepsi. So, after I paid him, I offered him a samosa and some biscuits. We sat in his rickshaw together and ate the samosas and the biscuits. I thought he would feel awkward, but after he found out that I was from Amberhai Village also, he relaxed a bit.
He told me about how he wasted his childhood smoking beedis, and thus he is still a rickshaw puller. He has taken all the blame on himself. That shows character (and a capitalist mindset we JNUites have learned to condemn!). Sure, it's the fault of the society. But is it also his fault? He for one, didn't want to blame anybody else. He also told me that the money is all over the streets in Delhi. You only need the brains to get the money. He said I was an educated boy, and I would be able to earn more money sitting in one place working than he would ever be able to by pulling a rickshaw around. But he told me he has a family and lives happily. We were sitting idling over the biscuits and the samosa, watching the time pass by. I was in a hurry and wanted to rush off to the bank and was feeling the slightest pinches of regret that I had to waste precious time before I got to the bank. He on the other hand felt that he was back in the village where everybody had all the time in the world. After staying for four years in Delhi, he seemed to still have those trusting tendencies an average villager would have. You can take the man out of the village, but man, you can never take the village out of the man!
He began to tell stories of his friends and the way they make money by just using their brains and creating markets where they don't exist. About this one guy who sent his son to the nearby forest to collect random herbs, plant them in plastic bags and sell them for a high price to Dwarka's richest. He also told me a longer story about another guy who made Rs 1055 just like that! The sad thing is, I don't know exactly how the guy made that Rs 1055.. Not because he didn't tell me, but because I didn't understand the pure Hindi he spoke in.
He also pointed out a marijuana in the middle of Sector 5 market, the place where Dwarka's richest shop. He showed me how they extract the pot out of the leaves, and how they used to make blunts and smoke in the village. He wondered aloud as to how much a man could get selling that marijuana. Like they say, if you find the right costumers, (Dwarka's richest, themselves!) you could be selling it for a lot of money! Dwarka's richest will be thinking that the stuff was shipped from Manali or elseswhere, when they actually pass by the source everyday! Obviously, that plant was almost bare, with almost no leaves on them because some kid or the other constantly walks by and plucks them out.
After I ran out of samosas and looked at the time, I decided that I had to run. I needed to get to the damn bank, get my work done (which has been pending for exactly 10 days, by the way) and go on to Shalom and continue to work before 11.00am! I hurriedly said bye and ran to the bank. The work got over pretty fast, and then I got to Shalom, where I am typing this blog.
I don't know if I will ever see that rickshaw-puller again, even though he says he lives in the street just behind my house. But it was nice hearing so much of rustic wisdom for a samosa and a few biscuits. It was fun talking and making friends with him. Though I wonder if he is smarter than I am, gaining my confidence just to (in some mysterious way) make my money walk away from me and toward him. I am told I should follow but one motto when I walk around the city. "Don't trust anyone". Well, I have tried for years now, but I still can't follow this motto as successfully as I should when I try and follow the other motto I was brought up to respect. "Love your Neighbour"