A lump of glee and disbelief formed in his throat as Kundan realized the genuineness of the paper money. Old and crumpled it was, but was sufficiently intact, and could buy as much as a value as a crispy one thousand rupee bill could.
He scanned around for one last time before tucking the money into one of his pant pockets. His legs shivered in the subtlety of the moment, and so did his heart. A thousand rupee was almost his one week wage. He could do his son's school fee with it that was stuck for the past two months. Raja had started carrying warnings from the school these days. A thousand rupee bill could relieve a part of it, if not all.
Kundan scampered his way out of the alley and appeared on the main street of Tripureshwor escaping a sigh of relief as if he’d just gotten away from a bunch of goons. At times he looked back to check if anyone is running behind him raising his hand, calling "Eh Dai, eh Dai!" But neither did he hear nor did he see any such man. It was God himself who had gifted him with the money, he thought. Such an auspicious day it was. A black cat had crossed its way before he left from the work. Well, they say it's auspicious for some people.
He saw a toyman passing by him with a bucket of bric-a-brac toys on his head. Raja adored playing with toys and he’d been longing for a new one ever since he broke his toy car last time while playing with one of the neighbor kids. He’d spent the whole evening wailing and whining with his mother. Kundan paused and turned aside at the toyman.
"Eh, bhaiya?" he called out for the toyman who seemed to be the native of the southern land of the country or perhaps an Indian immigrant. He had a tall and gauzy suture with eyes sunken. He held the toy basket on his head on a dirty white turban with one hand while carried a squeeze horn on his other hand. Bits of his salt and pepper hair peeped out through the turban around his temple. He wore an old soiled t-shirt and a mucky dhoti.
"Kya saheb?" the toyman said. "Yes, sir?"
Ah, buying Raja a toy would split the money he got. He had no extra money to spare either. A part of his heart was eager to show the full piece of the bill to Lajjawati, his wife. How elated she would be! "The ration has finished. When are you going to get the money to refill it?" she'd ranted at him this morning. The money could perhaps placate her, for the time being.
"Sir?" the toyman said.
Kundan jolted his head toward the toyman who was standing ahead straight as a pole holding his toy basket on his head.
"It's alright," he showed his palm toward him and resumed his way. The toyman slipped his lips as he moved toward the other way.
The whiff of a singed meat wafted on his way as he walked past a butcher's shop. The butcher on his black vest that showed his brawny arms and well-built chest was singeing the meat on the marble desk ahead.
"Baba, when are we going to have chichi 'meat'?" Raja had said last morning.
"Forget about chichi. You father won't bring any money. Perhaps next Dashain," Lajawati had said in a sullen voice.
"Why do you chatter so much? I'm telling you Sahu is not giving money to anyone. I'm tired arguing with him, and I'm tired convincing you."
He approached the butcher's shop. As the whiff of the meat augmented, his tongue started craving more for the meat. When was the last time they had meat? Two months ago, when Lajawati's parents, his in-laws, had visited them from the village.
"I wish I had never married his man. He makes no money, Aama," Lajawati had complained to her mother.
"Don't say so, chhori. I’m sure Jwain sahib is trying his best," her father had assured.
"Bhai?" Kundan called for the man who was burning the meat on the blaring gas flame.
"Yes," the man said, as he continued burning, turning the other side of the chicken.
"How much for mutton?"
"300 rupees per kg," said the man as he moved the flame toward the bird's back region.
Kundan bit his lips. "Chicken?"
"150 per kg," said the man.
"Chicken too?"
"Yes," the man said curtly. “You want any?”
The idea of showing the entire paper money to Lajjawati revisited his mind. He could already visualize the gleam in her eyes when she'd see the money. They could indeed make a well-composed love tonight for that. When was the last night Lajjawati had let him have a good sex? Two months ago, after her parents had returned to the village. Writhing and wriggling in joy they’d savored the moment as she was pleased for Kundan had handed her a wade of three thousand rupees the same evening.
As Kundan slipped into an alley of New Baneshwor, he escalated his pace unnaturally. His heart leaped with every step that brought him closer to his home. Never had he been so happy returning home, or room, for he only had a small room to house his family. Ljjawati would always be blusteirng at some trivial matter. At times when she got on his nerves, he would only left his home returning toward the dinner, sometimes tipsy. It'd been four years since their marriage but never had he laid his hands on his wife. Perhaps this was the reason why she got so high on him.
"Muji saale, what kind of man are you who can't even mind his woman's tongue? I bet you can't even grab her on your own until she doesn't open her legs by herself for you! Hahaha," his colleague Surendra had guffawed one day.
"It's not like that," Kundan had blushed like a girl.
When he reached home, Raja was doing his homework outside on veranda, resting his body on his knees and elbows.
"Baba," he got up with the pencil in his hand as he saw Kundan.
"Chhora, finished homework?" he said reaching to lift his son.
"Almost, Baba."
"Where is mother?" Kundan said lifting him down.
"She's inside, Baba. But Mommy has been crying ever since I got back from the school," said Raja gathering a solemn look on his juvenile face.
Kundan's brows wrinkled in frown. The door was half open as he entered. It was around 6 in the evening, the room was dusky dark, and by the bed, he saw Lajawati packing her items in one of the trunks they had.
She turned back before Kundan could call her.
"What happened?" he said. "Raja said you've been crying?"
Lajjawati brushed her cheeks which seemed to be half dried by now. He supposed it'd been just a while she'd stopped weeping. She managed to stay mum and resumed packing her clothes.
"Are you leaving me?" Kundan blurted. "Is that it? Lajjawati?" He went by her and sat on the bed. "Look at me," he said in a commanding voice.
Lajjawati stood up and sat on the bed by him. She snorted once. "It'll go on forever like this. Do you realize, I don't even have money to buy the ration for tonight? How are we going to survive?"
"But I'm working on it."
"Since when? And for how long?"
"It'll soon be over."
"And you’ve been saying that for the last two years since we came to this city,” Brushing her nose, she snorted once. “It's going to be over right now."
"Where will you go? And Raja?"
"We're leaving for the village tomorrow.”
"And he'll remain a bumpkin in his life like us?"
"At least he will live?"
"Hush now please," said Kundan. He thought this was the right time to take the arrow out of the quiver. If it was not for that money he'd found, he'd have lost his family today, he thought. "I've something to show you."
"What?" Lajjawati widened her eyes.
As Kudan delved his pant pocket, his heart skipped a beat. He fumbled deep inside the pocket, only to discover a four finger size hole in it. His heart sank, his throat perched. As if exhausted, his forehead started perspiring cold sweat like the outside of a deep-freezed soft-drink bottle.
"What is it?" asked Lajjawati.
"I'd found a..." he checked his other pocket as his hear palpitated, and getting up, his back pockets too. He patted his hips hither-tither for a while. "It's gone!" he kneeled on the floor like the most helpless person in the world. Tears rolled down his cheeks, his throat tightened in grief, and he could only not wail like a four-year old. Raja entered from outside, Kundan unaware of his slovenly footsteps.
"It's all gone," he started weeping further lowering his head. "I have lost it, and everything. My life is such a waste. I wish I could die right now!"
"Baba!" Raja placed his hand on Kundan's shoulder when Lajjawati came from the bed and sat by his side on the floor.
Kundan felt embarrassed to be weeping like a child in front of his son. Out of all he’d borne so far, it was the greatest misery of his life. "Why are you crying?" Raja said.
"Listen," Lajjawati held his hand and bent down to look at his eyes. "Stop it now, Raja will feel bad." She reached to his cheeks to wipe his tears.
"I've failed you," Kundan's shoulders further shook. "I'm such a waste."
"Tch tch," Lajjawati patted on his head like she did Raja's when he wailed just like that. "Stop it now. It doesn't suit you cry."
Kundan snorted and wiped his cheeks. Raja stood as such looking at his father cry.
"Give me some more time," he said as if she was his landlord. "I'll fix it."
Lajjawati went closer standing on her knees and buried his head on her arms. "You're so stupid. What makes you think I'll leave you? We are yours. And we know you'll never let us down." Lajjawati called Raja and they all joined together in a hug. The room was dusky dark, the air was warm, a thought crossed Kundan’s mind that the thousand rupee bill was indeed gifted to him by God himself.
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