Just a Few Hours More

“How long more do we have to wait here, papa?”

“Just a few hours more, beta.” replied Ghanshyam, his head resting on the disheveled duffle bag which contained their clothes.

“It’s been nearly a month, papa. Every day you keep ‘Just a few hours more’ and the days have now turned to weeks. I can’t wait to go home and see dadi,” said Amit.

The Tribhovandas Bajaj Park was converted into a campsite for all the migrant workers ever since the pandemic began. Thousands were provided a place to camp by the local authorities and volunteers rendered support by offering them food and water. Yet, nothing could compensate the hunger to return home for those thousands encamped at the park that barely measured four hundred meters at its circumference.

“Beta, it’s almost eleven o’clock. You should go to sleep now,” said Ghansyham.

“I just want to go home and see dadi.”

Annoyed by the nine year old boy’s constant ranting of wanting to go home but still trying to maintain his cool, Ghanshyam grabbed Amit by his collar and pulled him to sleep beside him. Patting Amit on his shoulder, Ghanshyam slowly drifted off into a deep slumber; his soft snores still penetrating deep into Amit’s ear.

However, sleep was nowhere within range for Amit, who couldn’t really comprehend the grave reality of the situation they were in. To him, this all seemed like a mass picnic where he would spend the entire day within the park playing around with the other migrant worker’s children. To him, the idea of a lockdown or epidemic made no sense at all. When it all began, Ghanshyam only told him that they were soon going return to their native village in Jharkhand. Although returning to their village was an annual affair ever since his mother passed away three years ago, never before they had to wait so long to return. The month long wait drained every parent of whatever little story they could come up with to keep their little ones calm.

His father’s arm pressed tightly over his arm and under the golden street light, he could see havaldar Sridhar sahib at a distance, smoking a cigarette and probably sharing a conversation with his colleague.

‘Havaldar Sridhar sahib is such a nice man. He always gifts me a chocolate whenever I go to him.’ Amit thought to himself. He couldn’t wait to get home to meet dadi and eat her delicious kheer and play with all his cousins.

At daybreak, the volunteers arrived once again with a truck loaded with cartons containing food rations for everybody, including the cops. The migrants were clearly instructed a month ago to not scramble to the vehicle when it arrived and instead form a straight line while maintaining a meter’s distance from the person in front. Ghanshyam was sitting against his bag, playing a game of rummy with Rajesh and Birju. The sight of the truck was always met with a great pleasant smile from every one of them, for it gave them hope of making it through the day without hearing the growls from their empty belly.

Maintaining a meter’s distance, Ghanshyam and Amit stood in the line until they were handed two packets of glucose biscuits. Thanking the volunteers, the two turned around to return to their spots.

“How are you doing today, Amit?” said Havaldar Sridhar.

“I’m ok, sahib.”

Reaching for his pocket, he pulled out an éclair chocolate and gave it to Amit who accepted it with a huge smile.

“Ghanshyam, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” said Havaldar Sridhar

“Yes sahib, what is it?”

“Look! I know you very well, you know that. You’re a nice man, who’s worked very hard. I don’t think there’s anybody in the area who can speak ill about you or even your tea,” said Havaldar Sridhar with a chuckle.

“Haha! Many people come to drink my tea from far. It’s probably the next famous thing here after the fort,” replied Ghanshyam.

“You’re very funny!” said Havaldar Sridhar with a laugh and pulling Ghanshyam aside, he continued “… Now look! There’s a bus leaving today at twelve o’clock for the station. I can arrange to have you and Amit on that bus.”

“Oh! Our names have finally come on the list? ” replied Ghanshyam with a depth of ecstasy in his tone.

“No! Your names are not on the list. But I can arrange to have you both on that bus.”

An iota of disappointment overshadowed Ghanshyam for a moment. The wait to have his name along with Amit on the list of deportees has now seen its second month. He longed, not for the green turf of the park anymore, but that green fields and pastures of his native village, that delicious food which his ma would prepare using firewood and enjoy a game of rummy with his brothers and friends under stars while the fresh village breeze brushed against their skin and hair.

Seeing his look, Havaldar Sridhar continued, “Look Ghanshyam, I have taken care of everything. You and Amit have nothing to worry about. You’ll just sit here in the front, close to the entrance. When i announce your names, you’ll just step up and quietly board the bus.”

“Okay, sahib! But won’t they check for names on the list at the railway station?”

“Yes, they will. But I have forged the list by adding the names of the two of you. So it won’t be a hassle. You just act normal as if you are scheduled to leave.”

“Thank you, sahib. But why are you doing this for us?” asked Ghanshyam with his palms, pursed against each other before his chest.

“Kavita bhabhi tied so many rakhis on my hand when she was alive. So I have to ensure the well-being of her husband and son now. It’s my duty as her brother.”

For a moment, Ghanshyam was again short of words and didn’t know how to react. His eyes turned moist but he soon wiped the tears with his dusty cuffs so as to not attract any attention. With his hand over his son’s shoulder and the packet of biscuits in the other, the two of them walked back to the spot where their baggage was waiting for them.

An hour before noon, Sridhar sahib announced the names of the people who would be on the bus today. Biting the nails off his fingers, Ghanshyam waited patiently waited for their names to be called out. He trusted Havaldar Sridhar as if he were his own brother and knew that God has finally put their long wait to an end. He envisioned his mother and brothers and their families, waiting to receive them at Dhanbad railway junction and driving in his brother’s van, surrounded by the lush green fields and pastures that greeted him along the way home. It would be just a matter of days until he would finally set foot on his village soil and lay aimlessly on the coir cot in his courtyard.

“Ghanshyam Prasad and Amit Prasad” announced a familiar voice over the microphone. With a joy that knew no bounds, the father and son rushed towards the bus. Presenting their Aadhar card to Havaldar Sridhar, who barely took a look at it, they waited for his go-ahead sign to board the bus. The flick of Havaldar Sridhar’s palm sent a huge smile over their face as they climbed the bus to find the last vacant seats behind the door.

“Papa! I will finally get to see dadi.”

“Yes beta! We are going to be home soon.”

As the engine began to roar, Amit, who was so overjoyed by the sudden turn of events, hugged his father out of happiness.

‘I will finally get to see dadi,‘ he kept repeating all along the fifteen minute bus journey to the station.

At the railway station, the policemen ordered the group to form a line to conduct a final medical check before they were allowed to board the train which was scheduled to leave in the next three hours. Ghanshyam could see that while some were allowed entry inside the railway station, a few were being taken away by the cops, offering stiff resistance and shouting ‘No! No! I am not sick. I am perfectly alright.”

His heart began to beat faster as the line grew shorter and he reached closer to the medical desk.

The constable placed a thermal scanner over Amit’s head first followed by Ghanshyam and turned to his colleagues and nodded.

‘Could this be it?’ he thought.

“You seem to have a high temperature,” said the cop.

“And what about my son?”

“He is absolutely fine.”

He knew this was it. He read many messages that were circulated over Whatsapp about people who were kept in isolation and quarantined for fourteen days. While some made it out alive, a few unfortunate ones met their end without their loved ones around.

“What happened, papa? Why are we not going?” said Amit but his words failed to distract his father from his thoughts.

“What do I have to do now?” Ghanshyam asked the cop.

“You’ll have to be quarantined for fourteen days now,” replied the cop, his words piercing Ghanshyam’s heart like an arrow.

“That’s okay with me, sir. I have anyways waited for a month, might as well wait for another two weeks.”

The cop, amazed at Ghanshyam who offered no resistance at all, could only reply with a smile. But his smile remained hidden behind the mask that covered the lower half of his face.

“If it’s okay with you, could I make one phone call to arrange for my son’s stay while I’m in the hospital?”

“Sure! Go ahead,” the cop responded and gestured at Ghanshyam to stand aside.

Ghanshyam pulled out his cell-phone from his trouser’s left pocket and hurriedly scrolled down his contact list, stopping at the only name he knew he could trust at the moment before dialing the number.

“Hello! Sridhar Sahib …. ”