The Candlestands

It was the middle of the night during the mid of December. The whole of Agra Railway station was quietly covered by a blanket of white fog. The huge yellow lights looked hazy from a distance. They looked as old as the Agra station itself, as if they have witnessed everything that has happened in this station over all these years. They looked tired and worn out watching and hearing people from countries all over the world coming here and discussing the Taj, admiring its beauty. And not only the Taj, but many other aspects of this city, its people and their lives.

I kept gazing at those huge lights with my half slept eyes and wondered what all they might have witnessed over all the years of their existence...

Just then I saw a lame station vendor selling wooden candle stands walking past the platform with his support stick.
I wondered why was he trying to sell candle stands at the middle of the night. Who would get up from sleep and buy one now?
The young man sitting beside me might also be pondering over the same question. He was a well-dressed man with a briefcase as his only belonging. He looked well off. His eagerness about the vendor must have been much more than mine. I could say so because in a few minutes, I noticed this young man moving towards the vendor.

I could hear the young man and the vendor talk very clearly as the station was extremely silent.
"Why are you selling candle stands at this time? Who is there to buy? The only probable customers you have now are the beggars sleeping on the platform and half slept passengers waiting for their trains to arrive.", asked the young man.

On this the vendor was silent for some time and then probably wiped off something from his cheeks with one hand while balancing his basket on his head with the other. I assumed it to be a drop of tear. After this pause of silence, the vendor said, "Hukum, I make these wooden candle stands with my own hands and sell them in the station. For last few days, I did not get a single customer and I have been coming and going to the station in vain. My house is about 12 kms from this station and I need to take a six seater to that place. My wife passed away a few months back leaving behind a 5 yrs old daughter.

Today while coming to this place I have exhausted my last penny and now I have no money to go back home. My daughter is alone in the house waiting for my arrival. I have to go back. I am still trying my luck at this time of the night with the hope that at least one candle stand will be sold and I will at least get the money to go back home. My expenditure on each of these candle stands is more that eight rupees. I usually sell them for ten rupees each. But now I am ready to sell for five rupees. I need five rupees to pay for the six seater."

The young man seemed touched by the agony of this lame vendor. He put his hand in his back pocket and took out a ten-rupee note from his wallet. As he offered the money to the vendor, the vendor shivered with anger and pain. He cried aloud saying, "Hukum, I might be poor and needy but as long as I am alive and my two hands and one leg is working, I can't accept free money. If you really want to help me then please accept two candle stands in return for this money."

The young man smiled and asked him how many candle stands he had in his basket. Upon getting to know that he had a hundred candle stands with him, the young man opened his wallet for the second time and offered him two five hundred rupee notes in return for the hundred candle stands.

The lame vendor was almost into tears and I could only hear his voice tremble in an attempt to speak up, but no words came out. His silence spoke for him and his feeling of gratitude towards this young affluent man. The young man gave a gentle pat on the vendor's back with a feeling of self satisfaction and respect for this poor man who was struggling so hard to bring up his only daughter in a country where often daughters are sold for money among this class of people for whom mere survival is a challenge.

Having seen this entire episode in front of my eyes, I realized that the world is not a bad place to live in after all. There are still good, generous people around who not always do things for self interests and self pleasure. I was really touched by the gesture of the young man. I wondered how two entirely different worlds co-exist in our country. On one hand there are people who never mind spending huge money for big brands and show offs. On the other hand, there are people like this poor father who struggle every moment to feed themselves and their families. Thanks to the few human souls like this young man who try to bridge the gap to some extent at least. I was so impressed by this young man that I wanted to meet and greet him in person but just then a train came in whistling loud. So loud that the sound pierced through my ears and exploded before my eyes creating a white fume in which the old vendor, the young man and their story altogether vanished. I opened my eyes only to see the huge yellow light of the station and my train whistling loud in the platform. I was finally awake. I rushed to board my train and took my seat beside a window. As the train whistled for the last time before departure, my eyes kept rolling over the entire platform searching for the lame vendor and the young man. But all I could see were the rushing passengers and some sleeping beggars wrapped in their blankets in the cold winter night.

As the train departed, I kept staring at the huge yellow lights of the Agra railway station. Flashes of what I went through kept hovering around my mind. The episode that I saw might be a dream but I wondered how many such episodes might these yellow lights have witnessed or if they have ever witnessed anything like that. With these thoughts I slowly lied down on my railway birth and closed my eyes. As my body was swinging with the motion of the train, I could again see the lame vendor and the young man laughing at me. I wanted to ask them why they were laughing but before I could do so, they again disappeared somewhere in the horizon and I kept swinging with the motion of the train.