The Summer Icecream

It was a normal hot sunny day of May. Time: around 4pm. Place: a small town in Bihar.

People had wake up from their siesta. Children had started listening, screaming and running towards the bells of icecreamwallah, chanawallah, cholewallahs. I, a kid of age 6, also ran for a cone icecream stall, having pursed in Rs. 1 coin, exact amount for a piece, in my clutched fist.

The icecreamwallah, ringing the bell of his stall, was standing on other side of road. I waited for few bicycles to pass across the road and then crossed. Standing in front of the stall, I Proudly flashed the coin and asked for an icecream. Pouring his hand inside a red-scarved pot, the salesguy took out one metal jacketed cone icecream. He tucked the metal from icecream slowly. Now, the mouthwatering iceacream was sizzling in his hand beating the prevalent coup of sun. The icecreamwallah held out his hand and in no time I grabbed the prized possession. It was a garish colored conical icecream. Planning to share the same with my siblings, I turned back as I had to cross the road again. Staring joyously at the icecream, I forgot the world around me.

I stepped further and what I found was first most grievous loss of my life till then. I was holding only a stick in my hand as a cyclewallah sped blowing off icecream from the stick. Stunned I was only having all future implications going through my mind. The emotional trauma of sudden loss was huge.

Then comes the hand of god, never seen till date by me. The icreamwallah calls me back. I took a step back. He took out another metal-jacketed cone, took out icecream and handed it to me without any charge.

The poor salesguy, who was earning his bread and butter from selling those 1 rs icecream and feeding a family of motherless children (as I knew years later) on margin of hardly 1000rs per month, had all of sudden taught me the gentlest and most moving story of my life.

The lesson, which many books of Budhdha had even not been able to teach me till then.

Years later, I knew his son. He was my classfellow. I helped him through his studies. Today, he is in a public sector company at respectable position. Three years back, Once I was standing on the railway station near my home, waiting for my train. There I saw him calling “sujit, you here!!!” and he told me story of his present life. I tried to sympathise with him for his past. But he told forget those days.

Yes, he should forget those days. But the lesson taught by his father will always be with me. Many a time, I read the Gandhi’s talisman (NCERT books regularly publish it), but find no better practical lesson than this one.

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