His Birthday Speech

“Cheers to the great Mr. Bairagi!!”

Numerous voices roared aloud along with the clinking sound of the liquor filled glasses. It was his forty second birthday and as usual it was huge. His well lightened large garden glittered like a small piece of heaven. Lavish dishes and desserts of uncountable varieties were served to the hundreds of guests while they filled their glasses with the Paris wine, Irish whiskey and the Caribbean rum, all imported but abundant. His beautiful swimming pool besides the garden looked graciously blue reflecting the red-green-yellow lights all around. The slow jazz music by a reputed orchestra blended with the wonderful party atmosphere.

            “It’s all for you.” He said with his massive personified voice. His suit was eye catching. A perfectly adoring grey coat with a well tailored silver lining over his white sleeves, black expensive formal pants, and polished shining shoes did show that he was really someone hardly anyone could not know. His wife stood holding his arm close. She was a damn beauty. Her fashionable red sari, her newly made curls of the brown hair and the alluring blue eyes gave her such an amazing look that not a soul could resist himself from envying the husband.

A young voice from the crowd requested, “Sir, we would love to hear from you.”

            It was always great to listen to the nicely chosen and juice filled words of the owner of BAIRAGI INDUSTRIES, the greatest ruling company of the state and of course if it happens to come from the mouth of one of the richest persons in the city. His fame for the massive enterprise he owned at an age when others served the cabins of companies controlled by old stern heads was high, but to a large extent his dignified non egoistic speeches was recognized to a greater perimeter.

He sipped in the wine from his glamorous designed long glass and started off with a smile.

Ladies and gentlemen, first of all I would like to extend my heartiest thanks to all of you for coming and being a part of this little celebration of mine. Today, in my forty second birthday, my gladness has no limits to be standing close to my beautiful wife, and also you all for celebrating to your highest level as possible. Next, I am assuring you that I am not going to talk about any company-related crap today, no business, no presentations, and no clarifications. But today I am going to share with you a story.

The mass murmured their low whispers story......story...what a....story. The eyes fixed themselves again to the orator, their attentive minds trying to figure out what kind of a story could a man like him compose out on a special day.

Yes guys, you heard me right, it’s a story. I would love if all of you listen to me attentively without any interruption. It starts like this.....

            It’s a busy evening at the usual crowded Paltan station when the Kamakhya Express screeches to a halt. A teen face pops out of the boggy door somewhere at the end of the long vehicle. He steps out with a fat bundle that represents a village sewed traditional cloth knotted around to support his things like a bag. From his looks he seems to be the typical concerned strange faced village piece, who is new to all the insanities of a new city he treads into. The sweater, trouser and the hawaii chappals that cover his thin body is old and torn in few areas showing the constant usage by the nineteen year old boy.

“Kot jaabee?” an autowalla growls aloud to the thoughtful mind as he keeps stealing around glances by his confused eyes. He lets his hand search the pockets to produce a small piece of paper. He reads out, “How much will you charge for Commerce College?” His words clearly reveal the fact of his little knowledge of the mentioned place.

“Not more than one hundred.”

He takes out a small cloth, tied around in a knot. The voice of his widowed mother still ringing in his ears, “Son, take this with you. This is all I can give you now to support your journey.” He knows what a tough time his mother had to go through even at the expense of her respect, so that she could see her son eat and study like all other kids. He opens up the knot to find two twenty rupee, six ten rupee notes and some coins.

“Will you go for fifty?”

“Not even for a ninety.” The man barks out and eyes for other victims over the busy area.

He sighs with a deep what-to-do breath. He feels his empty stomach give a slight roar of vibration. He remembers the small tin box his mother had put inside the bundle and her words “Open this when you are hungry.”

Within no time he is strangling his hands around the rotis and the sabjis his mother had prepared with her rough working hands. But he stops, he notices a little soul with tattered clothes eagerly looking at him in the hope if he was kind enough to hand him some of them. He sees that even beneath the materiality and the monotony all around there are some like him who seeks humanity.

“Hey, come here.” He calls out to the poor fellow. The little boy immediately rushes to him to lay out his hand.

“Are you hungry, boy?”

The tiny beggar nods, the little eyes still on the rotis.

“Will you help me with this new city, boy?”

The little one nods again, this time with a smiley face.

            And the two sits amidst the busy and hellishly built atmosphere of the city enjoying to the fullest and savouring the rotis and the sabjis heartily.

Thank you all for listening.

The young voice that had requested his speech said, “Sir, that was a really touching commoner story. But will you like to explain why you choose to narrate it on this special day and also what happened to the boy later.”

“Actually, that was me twenty three years ago, and what happened later on is exactly before your eyes.”