Rubiksu

"A boy on the long walk to nowhere." Juhu Beach, Mumbai.

Bhaiyya† wakes me up early in the morning. It is still dark.

I get up and get ready for the day. The train will leave soon and we cannot afford to miss it. Bhaiyya gets his drum and I get my cap and ring on. He draws a mustache on my face with a blue pen. It is time to go. I hear the train coming and it slows to a stop. We get on. The train is full today. It must be Sunday.

Bhaiyya stands toward the end of the compartment and starts beating his drum. I get my ring out and dance in the aisle. I do some somersaults and twirls. Bhaiyya then gives me the pan and I walk up to the first compartment. The people here are different. Gora. I have seen them on a billboard before. I reach out the pan and look down at my feet. When I get the pan back, there are coins in it. There is even a rupee note. I am about to walk to the next compartment but a voice stops me.

“Tumhari age kya hai?”

“Tu school jaata hai?”

I try to speak but nothing comes out. I continue looking at my feet. Bhaiyya calls me and I walk to the next compartment.

We get off at one of the bigger stations. It has been three hours since we got on the train. Bhaiyya buys a small plate of upma. He walks underneath the stairs and sits down to eat his meal. I wander around the platform — there is nothing to do until the return train home. I am playing with my colored box when I see a boy and girl – around 20 years old – calling me. I am too scared to respond but they start walking towards me. The boy crouches down and puts his arm around me. He says something but I tell him I do not speak Telugu. The girl asks me in Hindi: what is your name? how old are you? do you go to school? No, I do not go to school.

The boy and girl take me to a food stand on the platform. They ask me what I want to eat. I tell them I don’t like anything. I will eat anything. She asks me again what I like. I tell her I don’t like anything. I tell her I will eat whatever she gives me. They buy four vadas‡ and a bag of biscuits. They ask me to eat. I take a bite of the vada. They watch me. They follow me back under the stairs where Bhaiyya is eating. They sit down with me on the ground and ask me to eat more. I take another bite and concentrate on my colored box. The girl tells me it is called a rubicksu. I am afraid. Bhaiyya is still eating. They ask me if he is my brother. I nod. The boy asks me to pass the biscuits and a vada to Bhaiyya. I tap him on the shoulder but he turns away. I place the food behind him. The boy and girl get up and walk away.

My name is Ramu and I am 8 years old.

† Bhaiyya is the Hindi word for older brother
‡ Vada is a South Indian deep-fried spiced delicacy made from black lentil