The 10 Rupee Coin by Kunjan Verma
His hand went inside his pocket hoping to prove his fear wrong. When it came out it was holding a 10-rupee coin. He held it in his hand.
He had been in the city for more than a month. Money ran out faster than he expected and the work he had expected to get took even longer than that. Expectations, he thought with a sigh, are a man’s worst companion.
He again looked at the coin. The numeral 10 looked back. For a few moments he kept staring at it. This coin had a character of its own. Slightly crooked from one side, barely noticeable but nevertheless.
He had to decide what would he buy with this? A Vada Pav for his now two days empty stomach or the bus ticket to the office where he might get work. Might.
He asked the coin. The coin didn’t answer. He folded his palm around the coin.
He looked around the bus stop. Sad faces, tired souls and disappointed lives. A man with a slight limp and a lunch box hanging over his shoulders, an elderly woman with a hand purse sandwiched under her right arm, a young woman with her 2-year-old daughter, a middle aged peon, and couple of youngsters still clueless to the life ahead.
He opened his palm again to look at the 10-rupee coin. The street vendor standing next to the bus stop was shelling out newspaper wrapped Vada-Pavs mechanically. One hand busy in taking money the other hand giving out food. Trading, that’s the truth of life.
He had to decide what should he buy. He looked at the coin and decided to flip it and let fate tell him what to do.
The bus was overcrowded. He was holding on to the door handle with one hand and with only one foot on the bus floor. The overcrowded bus then started adjusting to the number of people inside. After five minutes or so he was at least inside the bus. The next bus stop eased the bus a little. Several passengers alighted leaving ample room in the bus. He came inside.
The conductor got up from his seat and was handing out bus tickets. He slipped his hand inside his pocket to pull out his last 10-rupee coin.
It wasn’t there.
His mind went numb. Where is it? Did it slip when he was trying to put it back in his pocket or did it fall when he was trying to get inside the bus. He tried to feel if there were any holes in his pocket. There weren’t any.
The conductor was now giving ticket to the young woman with her 2-year old daughter.
She gave him a 10-rupee coin. Slightly crooked from one side, barely noticeable but nevertheless.
He looked at her. She looked at him and then dropped her eyes.