Bucketful

I come home late. Around ten. Ten in the night. I was supposed to come at seven. I had declared it on phone. Aai had agreed. She agrees to everything I say. She has lost her hopes on me. Time flies when you are with friends. These are times when your seven transforms to ten or even one at times. Ten in such time was always bearable.

I throw my bag on the sofa and sink my self in the couch. I ask for water and Aai hands me over a large glass. I pour it down my throat.

“Go and change up quickly….we’ll have dinner then”, Aai says.

I am irked. I want to have a bath before my dinner. I hadn’t had a bath in the morning. Winter mornings are too lazy to go in for a bath. Also are they too cold. Cold enough to chill your geyser heated water. It is steaming hot at one moment. And by the time you search for your towel and reach the bathroom…..you find water in a state that schoolbook science describes as ‘Lukewarm’.
“I want to have a bath before that….I didn’t have a bath in the morning”, I snap back adding a streak of politeness to it.
“I know….but...” Aai leaves her line half way.
“Aai…look at my feet…..they’re far beyond the usage of word dirty.” I raised my feet and showed her my sole which was actually far beyond the usage of word dirty since I wore floaters all day long.
“Okay go…”She finishes the broken line with an agreement. Out of helplessness or love or both.

I pick up my bag and lazily walk to the bedroom. Slam the bag on my chair and start unbuttoning my shirt. I pull the towel over from the drying line and walk back to the drawing room to have a quick look at what new adventure of human race is television playing on its screen. A celebrity couple is dancing and three judges are looking at it as if experiencing a phenomenon. Like Ash and his friends look at ‘Pokemon’s when they enter their ‘Vikasit Roop’. My sis is looking at it with a mechanical fascination.

I pick up the remote beside her and change it to Zee Studio to check what gem of a movie are they playing tonight. She snatches the remote back from my hand immerses herself in the pool of celebrity talent. Her mouth’s too filled up with a large morsel of rice thrust in a moment ago to start an argument. I thank god for that.

I disentangle my watch from my wrist, empty my pockets and am about to walk towards the bathroom when the door bell rings.

I open the door.

I don’t believe in the concept of staunch enmity. But there are people who I don’t like to see everyday. And in spite of it, I have to see them twice a day. Our laundryman is one such human. He’s old, wretched and irritating. He springs up at your doorstep at the most unwanted of times. Says most idiotic of words and supplements them with weirdest of expressions. His state of pity will only generate hatred for him in you. Anger is too ashamed to rise as a reaction to him. You can’t help him, you can’t pull him out, all you can do is….hate him for his existence. We call him Kapdawala.

Kapdawala is at the door. Pitiful as ever. Lifeless eyes staring into me. I quickly turn to Aai.

“Aai Kapdawala…..” I shout and move back.

Aai comes to the door and opens it further. The doorframe exposes more of him to me. Miraculously today he wasn’t standing without an armload of ironed clothes with him. Instead he carried a dull coloured plastic bucket made out of remoulded plastic. And followed by an equally timid son.

“Kya hua bhaiyyaji?.......Paani chahiye?
“Haan.....thoda”

Aai looks at me.

“Go give him some water” She says.

I ask him to come in. He just keeps his bucket inside my house and stands at the doorframe.

I pick up his bucket and go to the bathroom. I put it below the tap and open the tap wide. Its fills up itself voraciously. As if it has never seen so much of water before. Granny told me the story about how Lord Shiva caught Ganga descending from Swarga in all her force. Bucket must’ve held similar importance for Bhaiyyaji.

As I built up this simile, water filled up the bucket and had started spilling out of it. My sis washing her hands at the wash basin besides the bathroom was granted with an opportunity by it to throw a taunt at me.

“Stop dreaming and look at the bucket.”
“You don’t worry about that….I can take care of it” I replied in an equally arrogant tone.

I closed the tap and lifted the bucket. I placed it before him. I looked at his arms. I felt as if I can never lift the bucket up again. It wasn’t a bucket at all for that moment. It was a burden too big than that bucket of water.

He lived three lanes beyond. He had a considerable distance to walk. He had brought his son along. They’d be carrying that bucket of water all the way to their house.

He lifted it. He was almost bended by it’s weight. He dropped it. He asked his son to lift it. He couldn’t lift it either. For a wicked moment it seemed to me like a competitions that conducted in Ganeshotsav festival. Both of them stood looking helplessly at the bucket.

I approached further and lifted up the bucket. I took it to the elevator. His son opened the door for me. I kept the bucket inside the elevator and told his child to ask watchman for help to unload. I could’ve easily gone down with him and taken the bucket to his house. But I just helped him to the elevator. Not even to the gate. Just the elevator.

I sunk back in the couch. Aai was in the kitchen setting up dinner for me.

“Aai…why did he suddenly come asking for water??....their locality never has water…if we continue to be generous….he’ll come to us everyday” I said with a mean smile.
“No re….water supply was cut in the evening….there won’t be water for the entire day tomorrow.” Aai replied.
“What??!!....why???”
“There’s some problem with the pipeline”
“Then how come we have water if there water cut off since evening”
“Because our building has an extra tank.”

Water spilled while carrying the bucket from bathroom to the door. It was only one bucket.

“Go take a bath quickly!!” Aai said.

I sat on the couch staring at my feet. They were....