it was his day

It was his day

                I was carefully maneuvering a busy junction in my car when I was alerted by a passing motorcyclist that I had a flat tyre. Flabbergasted by the sudden announcement I successfully parked the heavy engine on a side the Providence had earmarked for me. The hot sun threatening to burn me alive and the late afternoon hunger that drives everyone mad were fuelling the mess I was in. Again, by sheer luck I spotted a puncture outfit very near the spot. What a joy it is to find someone you want at a time you badly need their presence! A cobbler when your slippers desert you, an auto man when the rain is pouring, a smiling, uniformed friend in a police station, an inviting acquaintance in a Government office -  the list is endless. Thanking the Almighty I peeped in. I saw a lean, shabbily dressed young man busy eating his lunch. On hearing my footsteps, he turned and looked at me questioningly. I told him the reason for my intrusive presence during his lunch hour, reassuring him with all good nature that he could attend to me after appeasing his hunger. Satisfied by my patience he went back to his business. There wasn’t a chair or a make shift seat to pamper myself. So there I stood with a  burning belly waiting for a man who was slowly, very slowly devouring the scanty meal. Somehow I did not realize that a meal could be so delectable even in the presence of a stranger. Though I found that the size of his lunch box and the time to finish it off were a mismatch, I took sides with the hungry, industrious labourer. Still, when I made some inadvertent grunts, he gently turned to look at me and then as if I wasn’t there, went back to taste every morsel that was possibly remaining in his tiny container. I told myself that the man might have unearthed some occasion to taste a good meal and that my urgency should not spoil his opportunity. After twenty minutes the man made some positive signs of winding up his fare. I waited with a painful smile cursing myself and my car for another five minutes. He took a lot of effort to clean his mouth, teeth, sweaty face, palms and his hands and feet. Then when I was about to lead him successfully to my disabled car, the worst happened. He told me with a glee that he would attend to me within a minute and just disappeared. Helplessly I looked for him hither and thither only to be pacified by an observant neighbor that the fellow had gone for a treat of betel leaf. Well, the job was done after thirty minutes. While I was driving back I thought about him and his willful patience. Why did he do that to me? Didn’t he deliberately keep me waiting for his service? My appearance probably had instigated him to take a social revenge on someone who enjoyed greater privileges in the society. That was his day to prove that he was the king and I was his dutiful attendant.