The Walk

The beads of perspiration streamed down my forehead and slithered in my eyelids. With one hand I wiped my face and the other clung to the bag heavily laden with food and water, I tugged along. The backpack began stretching the shoulders down and weighing as low to my hips and beat against them each time I walked. Unable to pull any further, I let go under a thickly canopied mango tree along the roadside.

Wondering if I had taken a wise decision and hoping I hadn't acted too hastily; I felt the sun melting my determination and scorching the metalled road with its intense heat. My throat parched; I pulled a bottle out of my bag. Though there was an average stock, I took judicious two sips and carefully replaced the bottle saving on every bit I had. Sleep was luring and not even the muddy road or the sweltering sun could stop it from totally invading me.

I had walked for two hours at a stretch, something I had never done before and now couldn’t go one step further. The damp sweaty eyes closed. The warm breeze cooled my wet face. Hugging my bag, I lay my head on it and curled up under the shadows of the tree, guarding me from the glaring afternoon sun.

‘No not dead, he is breathing. Sleeping,’ said a little girl’s voice.’

I could barely see a thing when I opened my eyes covered with mud; I must be looking like the dead for days to gather such a crowd around me.

‘Where are you going?’ Someone asked

Rubbing the dust from my eyes and face that stuck with the moisture, I wiped off the dirt from my mouth with my shirt sleeves. ‘Lucknow’.

Long way said a middle-aged man, almost my age as he came around giving me his hand to rise. I noticed a talisman tied around his neck.

‘Yes, I know.’

We are going till Hardoi, you can come with us?’

This open invitation didn’t seem too tempting, the people surrounding me looked somewhat too friendly for my appetite. Slapping the mud out of my jeans, I said, ‘I might take some time to start, please don’t wait for me.’ Saying that I sat down to unfasten my bag.

The group sensed my hostility and said, ‘okay, so we take off.’

The long sleep was much needed, but I was famished and thirsty. There was enough water, I gulped mouthful down my system. Took out two vita bars from my bag, put one in my pocket and chewed the other.

 

The lockdown was suddenly announced and there was little time for me to think when Gita called in the morning…

‘Avinash, it’s Gita.’ Still in bed, I threw my covers to receive the call on the landlord’s house number.

‘Hi.’ She sounded worried. ‘What happened to your phone, the messages aren’t being delivered? Tried calling you…’

‘It fell off my hand and has stopped working. I can’t get it repaired now.’

‘Dhruv has high fever. Don’t know what to do.’ She was almost tearful.

‘He didn’t go to play, anywhere did he? Try taking him to a local doctor. Ask Afifi Bhai for help.’

‘Can’t you come?’ Her voice was thin, I could feel her tears rolling down her soft pink cheeks.’

‘Everything is closed here. You have to manage on your own…’

With the office closed there was uncertainty looming everywhere. At such a time, it is better to stay with my family. I stuffed my bag with vita bars, my staple food and six, 1-litre bottles with water. Told the landlord that I was off for Lucknow by foot.

He was sceptical about the rent. I paid him for an advance month. Told him, I will return as soon as the lockdown ends. He seemed a little assured. Warned me that going by road wasn’t easy and that I should reconsider my decision. But I was determined to be with Gita and Dhruv at this time.

 

I had already set off on the next lap of my journey. Waking six hours a day will help me reach home in 16-17 days. It was a tall target, but I couldn’t let my determination buckle.

I had almost caught up with the group going to Hardoi. They were a noisy lot trying to sing folk songs. Children pulling at their heels and the small toddlers perched on the shoulders of younger men.

‘Oh, there you are, you walk fast!’ Said the middle-aged man who had offered to wait for me.

‘Ah, it’s a long way I have to pace up.’ I spoke chewing as I shifted the vita to one side of my mouth.

‘Yes, you do have a long way to go.’ He replied.

The little girl in the group who had called me earlier in the day stared at my mouth and candidly took a remorseful gulp. She was probably hungry like all the others. The road had no halting-place or eatery open where they could eat or drink something. And the group didn’t look the sort that would be carrying food with them, even for their little ones.

For a minute I was tempted to share the vita bar in my pocket with the little girl. But thought there were four more kids in the group. I can’t let my own resources drain. Humanism was great but self-love and survival certainly held a dearer place this minute. The best thing to do was to look away from those longing eyes. I tried walking faster.

As I did the middle-aged man caught up with me. He had balanced a small child on his shoulders.

‘Why are you walking? You don’t look like one of us. You must be having a permanent job, not like us.’

‘I do.’

‘Then taking up such a long journey by foot, it’s a desperate act, we really don’t have a choice.’

I had no intentions of diving into a conversation with him, ‘we all have our reasons,’ I responded.

 ‘Hmm… We lived under a bridge along the Yamuna river in Delhi. When the lockdown was announced we were asked to move in a shelter home. We are seven of us in all. I usually live in the village but had come down last week as my younger brother had asked me to join him for some quick work. ‘

‘The harvest time has started; I was supposed to return soon but was held back. The shelter home where we were moved did not have enough food. So, I advised that it would be better we walk back home. My elder brother and my father back in the village won’t be able to handle the harvest alone.’

He expected me to respond to what he was saying. I couldn’t care less about him, his harvest, his family, and brothers. Either way, these people lack basic sensibilities to drag their small kids along and cover a formidable distance till Hardoi by foot, without food or water. Even if their kids die, they probably don’t care. They will have more.

I nodded.

The man could gauge my hostility again. He said anyway, even though we are poor but just like you, we too are not accustomed to covering a distance so long on foot.  If there is any help you require let us know we are more in numbers and will do our best.

I had already picked up on my pace and was determined to walk for two more hours before It was three. Then I would take about half an hour rest and walk for two more hours, completing my quota for the day.

Lost in my own thoughts I kept going ahead. I didn’t look back to see if the group was closely following me. I crossed a lot of other people walking like me. The expression on most faces was of hunger, fatigue, and resignation.

The heat was sapping our energy and although I had water, most didn’t. On the broad highway, there was no place for them to find water either. In fact, the highway had no shady trees. It was a motorists’ path and vehicles travelled with swiftness on this road to cover the distance from Delhi to Lucknow in six hrs.

Some fortunate ones had cycles, while others used their trolly bags to drag their kids. Some cheap bags broke on the road and then the kids and the ladies along with their men folks carried the bag in turns.

But the zest to make it to their own destination was undying in each walker. The sun was enjoying our misery and unforgivingly shone in its midday galore.

I had almost finished a bottle. There were just five more in my bag. Not more than two sips at a time I kept telling myself. When I drank, I could feel many eyes thirsting for a share. But I was determined to look away. Each man to his own. I can’t be generous. There will be time to show generosity, but this was certainly not one. It was a battle for survival and sustenance. Not for emotions to take over better judgement.

I could barely walk forty minutes at a stretch and couldn’t pull any further. There were some shrubs planted in the bifurcation, I sank on the side that provided some shade from the sun. Snuggling inside the shrubs I could still feel the piercing heat on my face. The beads of perspiration were turning to salt and sticking against my skin. I had no energy to wipe them out or the luxury of washing my face. Slumber took over even before I could stand up and start walking again.

The cool winds are blessings of a hot summer evening and my eyes opened to their calling. The mellowed sun was preparing to set. It was almost six and I had missed the target I had set. Springing to my feet I beheld a view contrary to the lockdown. People were flocking at the road intersection and selling water and tea.

This was the second refreshing cup that I took since I left in the morning. I felt grateful.

People, travelling like me to their own destinations were trying to fill their stomach and pockets with whatever food was available.

I bought two more bottles of water. The shopkeeper was friendly and asked me where I was going.

‘Would you like to go by a truck he inquired. For a price, you could reach you home tonight.’

 ‘Really? How much would that cost?’

‘Oh! I have to ask, if you are interested, I will talk.’

I ordered another cup of tea while he made enquiries.

I heard him arguing over the price. He disconnected shaking his head.

‘He is asking for a lot.’

‘How much?’

‘Says not a penny less than twenty-four thousand.’

I took off, the little light of hope that had kindled in my heart with the thought of reaching home tonight, diffused.

It was getting dark and there would be no place to sleep. Wonder how safe the highway is at this time of the night.

I should have thought about all of this before setting out for the journey. Now there was no turning back and the only thing to do was to walk.

While I walked, I saw people halting on the roadside and laying down their beddings for makeshift beds. Thousands were on road with me. Each planning to reach their destination at their own pace. I saw people in pain, a mother to be lying at the roadside hoping for help to come. There were no vehicles on road, no one to help her from her pain.

Her family was at least by her side. An elderly woman who was fanning her and trying to massage her legs for some relief. Her husband was prancing frantically trying to locate a vehicle that could carry them. I stood there for a while. Thinking if I could help. The man was crying as he saw a truck approaching. I waited and watched. He tried to stop the truck, almost stood in its way, trying to make it stop. But the truck sped breathlessly.

I went beside him.

‘She is bleeding. Something must have happened. I need to take her to the hospital.’ He had a red cloth in his hand.

‘It is hard to find anyone who will take you to the hospital at this time.’

The old lady watched the younger one as she tried to cope up with the pain. Her face began to grow pale. She called her son. Both knelt beside the younger woman. A cry so helpless, so intense left from the group that it shattered the silence of the night.

I stood for a while, wondering what to do... Wanted to walk away but couldn’t. No matter how hard I wanted to leave but death is too final to ignore. I could do nothing for them. My legs stood fixed to where I was. I walked a bit and held the young man’s shoulder. He turned towards me. His eyes red as he dashed his face on my shoulders. He had lost something very dear to him, it was evident. He couldn’t look at her pale face that still wore the expression of agony as life departed from it.

The older woman, his mother, tried to console him.

At length, a policeman in a motorcycle came by. I wondered if I should wait. I had already lost too much time. But I was ordered to stay.

In about a couple of hours we reached with the body to Agra. There is small mercy is misery I contemplated. The little of anything good I had done paid off immediately. Instead of having to cover the distance till Agra by foot, I was being brought in the police van.

Though the circumstances could have been different if only the police had visited the spot a few minutes earlier. The woman could have been taken to the hospital where she may have survived and given birth to her baby. Her husband would still have her, and he wouldn’t look as if he has lost everything on this day.

After writing my statement and my contact details I left the police station. It was almost three in the morning. The man waited for his wife’s body to be released by the police. I watched him as he sat, no more tears, but an empty gaze that was probably thinking that yesterday at this time she was with him. I took water from the cool mud pot kept in the police station. A man attending the pot poured out a glass full. I carried it to the man.

‘Drink it, you will feel better.’

‘He looked at the water and broke into tears again. She was asking for water. I couldn’t bring it to her.’

He howled. His mother sat in silence. I walked away leaving the man to his fate and started on my own journey back home.

I don’t know how Dhruv or Gita would be. She must have called the landlord to learn that I had set off to be with them. Hope she could show Dhruv to a doctor. I will try to call her.

Sticking to the side of the highway, I decided to walk. Sleep was a remote thought. After a night such as this, sleep doesn’t come easily.

Lights flooded on the empty highway and just travelled to the brim of the cultivated area. Acres of yielded land silhouetted the landscape on either side as I walked past in solitude. Crossing the Yamuna river bridge and the Taj with a thin-sliced crescent moon in the background, I remembered how I had brought Geeta here soon after our wedding.

I must have walked to quite a distance when as the sky began to lighten, and birds flocked up on branches breaking the trance of a long night.

Saturday was the last day that I had gone to work. My employer had wanted everyone present in office as there were no instructions from the government to pause work. No wage for those who weren’t present. The virus was making headlines all over the world and people were getting infected in large numbers every day. How could my employer be so unconcerned about people who travelled in public vehicles? Workers are treated with such disdain.

If it hadn’t been for my family, I would have quit his job. Luckily, the country was brought to a standstill. But what now? This month’s salary would come to my account, would next month’s? Though I had my laptop with me, but I had no options for working from home. I worked as a security supervisor, monitoring internal security systems in large concerns. With the shutdown, there would be no work until things normalised and no one knew when that would happen.

Coming to an intersection I was caught by a group of police personnel who wanted to know why I was without a mask. Not giving me time to explain, they shunned me amid a cluster. Standing close to each other there was fear on each face of what the police would do to us more than getting infected. At that point, I only wanted to reach home.

Masks were distributed and sixty of us women, children and men were told to wear it. I don’t know if I felt any safer wearing one. A local businessman distributed packets containing one-litre bottle of water, two-kilogram pack of wheat flour, five hundred grams of pulses, 500 litres of cooking oil, a soap, and another mask.

My bag was already heavy, I didn’t know where to fit them?  If only he had arranged for vehicles to take us home. Instead, they made us stand in a line. Told us to close our eyes and the eyes of the children. They bathed us with disinfectant. I felt I was a prisoner in a Nazi Camp where anyone could do anything on me. Even though the nose was covered with the mask, I felt breathless and somewhat unwell. All the freshness I had picked from the morning walk pelted in the terrible stench of gas and chemicals.

Not being able to walk too far I decided to rest at one side of the road. I was not alone, many others like me lay down. We were all feeling somewhat dizzy and breathless. It wasn’t sleep but a state of semi-consciousness that took over me.

When I awoke, I found that my bag missing. All my possession was inside it. My money, my laptop, clothes, food and most importantly my stock of water. What would I do without them? Lost and broken, I felt worse than destitute. I let out a cry that attracted the crowd around me.

‘What happened? Asked an elderly woman who sat close by.

‘Someone stole my bag. Everything is gone. My money, clothes, food, what do I do?’

‘Don’t worry! At least you are safe.’

She smiled and looked at the other side. The loss of my bag had completely taken my attention off the crowd that had gathered nearby. The police were there too. A truck had overturned, was all I could see.

‘What happened?’

‘The truck toppled or ran over some sleeping people at that end. We somehow were saved.’

She smiled again and joined her hands to pray.

There was kindness in her voice as she asked, ‘where are you going?’

‘Lucknow.’

I felt thirsty but had no water with me, no money to buy myself some water. She almost read my thoughts.

She pushed her bottle towards me, ‘here drink.’

I looked surprised, ‘you? Do you have enough?’

The smile returned, ‘I have had enough to quench my thirst for now, it’s your turn to quench yours.’ 

There was almost half bottle of water. I really needed more than two sips and finished the entire portion in seconds.

Where I had found it so difficult to share my water, this lady had done it so easily.

The police came and informed us that two buses are being arranged to take us to our destinations. I tried to tell the man that my bag was stolen and that it had all my possessions, it fell on unheard ears.

Still feeling unwell, the wait for the bus and satisfaction of returning home took over every other loss.

 I was feeling feverish. The fatigue and long journey and so many experiences had left me completely exhausted.

Finally, the bus arrived. We were made to stand in a line. Every passenger admitted in the bus was. checked with a temperature gun. Those who had above normal temperature were made to stand aside.

I waited with nearly 11 others like me. Another bus arrived at length. We were informed that we would be taken to a hospital for a Corona Virus test.

I didn’t care anymore. Something was being spoken about quarantine by the policeman that I barely heard.

My eyes closed with the satisfaction that I wouldn’t have to walk anymore…