When lanky, easily-missed-in-a-crowd, and shabbily dressed 22-year old Dinesh stepped out of the gleaming office building that merciless May Tuesday afternoon, he didn’t know he was an entry in his Guardian Angel’s calendar.
In his defense, Dinesh was preoccupied. He’d just finished giving an interview for a coder job in one of the IT companies. It was an entry-level job just above the level of janitor and would pay pittance. But it would be a step in the right direction for young Dinesh, who currently worked at a call center and hated dealing with irate and abusive customers. He’d put himself through a NIIT course—in fact, his widowed mother had sold the last of her gold jewelry to put him through it.
He was naturally anxious to get the job. He was also hungry. It was lunchtime, but he had 50 rupees on him to see him through the entire day and probably the next. After that, he’d have to figure out an inexpensive way of spending six odd hours before his shift at the call center started. He also noticed that there were a couple of missed calls from his mother—no doubt she was calling him about his younger
brother, who hadn’t come home the previous night.
Dinesh was not a complaining type, but life did weigh heavily on his young shoulders. When he was not worrying about rent, crowd in the local train, a new rain coat for the monsoon, medical expenses, his mother’s hunched shoulders or his brother’s worrisome ways (which was almost never), he did think of a different life—that of leisure, money, better clothes, a/c car, and—in the deepest recesses of his heart—a girl with gleaming hair, clean delicate feet and soft skin.
But on a day-to-day basis, Dinesh was not a happy guy. If you put him under hypnotic trance, you would find out that he’s forgotten how to be happy about six years ago, when his father died of a sudden, inexplicable illness. Which was a problem, as far as the Keepers of Balance of the Universe were concerned. Enter the Guardian Angel.
The Guardian Angel had Dinesh in his sight as the boy emerged from the building into the small lane, which served as the local “khau galli.” You’ve probably seen the Angel there on other occasions. Yes, he’s the doped-looking guy, with long hair, thick glasses, wrinkled Fab India kurta and jeans, smoking at the paan-bidi shop. This is how he normally worked his beat.
Dinesh was delighted to see the variety of choices he had that afternoon—vada paav, burji paav, paav baji, dosa, tender coconut, and chai vendors were lining the galli and doing brisk business. He could eat like a king.
The Angel smiled softly as he saw Dinesh’s eyes light up. He watched the boy inspect his choices carefully and pick dosa and chai after deep consideration. He smoked his cigarette leisurely as Dinesh ate his lunch slowly, with relish.
As Dinesh washed his hand (the Angel didn’t approve of this practice, but what do you do), paid up and turned, the Angel straightened. Although Dinesh was his 460th assignment, he still felt a coil of stress unfurl in his otherworldly stomach
just at moment zero. These set ups were like complex dominos, and there were always unknown factors such as wind, temperature, humidity or the sheer quirkiness of nature to make the dominos scatter all over the place.
Dinesh took one unseeing step towards his right, with his eyes glued to the congested main road he was brought to a halt by a shriek and almost stumbled over a hunched body. He turned startled eyes to the source of the commotion and was confronted by two serious brown eyes, belonging to a brown young woman in sleeveless T-shirt and jeans, crouching on the ground.
“Careful!” she barked at him. He frowned in confusion. “You almost stepped over him!” she accused.
Who?
Turned out to be a piteously injured street dog puppy, probably run over by a vehicle. His hind legs were a mess and he keened and squirmed when he found the energy.
“I’m sorry,” Dinesh mumbled.
She looked at him accusatorily for another five seconds and turned her attention to the puppy. Dinesh stood over her and the puppy, lost as to what to do. He could of course walk away, as everybody else in that crowded galli were doing. He looked around and saw a few people looking at him and the girl with horrid fascination and felt embarrassed.
The Angel caught his breath. These were tough moments—when a soul was put to test. Especially when it was not about earth shatteringly important choices.
Dinesh looked down at the girl—rather, her tanned, brown shoulders, back of her shorthaired head and the base of her back, where the T-shirt allowed an inch of gap over the waist of her jeans. She raised her head and looked around a little helplessly.
Dinesh heard himself say, “You want me to do something?”
She looked at him with narrowed eyes and probably found his not-so-threatening, obviously lower-middle class appearance acceptable, because her face cleared. She gave him a tight smile. “Yes, can you watch over the dog till I find a carton?” she asked.
“Carton?” Dinesh was nonplussed.
“I need to carry this fellow to vet hospital—I need a carton and a gunny sack. I’ll probably get it from one of those shops,” she pointed out.
Dinesh felt like a fool, but he said, “Ok,” and spent the most embarrassing five minutes of his life watching over an injured puppy, physically stopping people from accidentally stepping over him.
Luckily she came back with the carton before long. With one practiced movement, she lifted the puppy by the scruff of its neck and placed it gently in the small carton lined with dirty gunnysack. The puppy tried to protest but found the carton a more hospitable place than the dust and curled up as best he could and lay quietly and miserably.
“Listen, can you help me find an auto?” the girl said in her no-nonsense manner.
The Angel hid a smile. He’d expected her to take charge of the situation.
“Ok,” Dinesh said. There didn’t seem to be a choice. He spent the next 15 minutes running up and down the road, trying to cajole auto drivers to stop and take the girl to her destination while she stood on one side, tending to her precious cargo.
Every time he came back dejected, she smiled at him in encouragement, and Dinesh bloomed like a flower under its warmth and redoubled his efforts.
He was successful in the end. He helped the girl get inside the auto. She thanked him and the auto started.
Dinesh stood there where she left him feeling curiously empty. The Angel frowned and looked at the traffic. It suddenly thickened, making the auto slow down and halt after it moved 20 yards. He looked at Dinesh.
Dinesh too saw it and suddenly got energized and ran after the auto. “Hey! Hey!” he shouted. The girl looked out. Dinesh took a deep breath and asked, “Can I come with you to the hospital?”
She hesitated for a second and then smiled. “Sure,” she said, moving in and making space for him.
The traffic cleared. The auto sped on its way.
The Angel looked around proudly at nobody in particular and bought another cigarette.
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