The sun had its own mood swings. Broadly seasons. But minutely it even differs from person to person how we interpret it. Even in some mid-days the Sun can be mild enough for a quick tryst. He could see her wife from his shade. She is hanging the clothes in the winter sun to dry. She is sweating, wiping her forehead with back of her hand. Oblivious to the fact that her husband was watching her. Oblivious to the fact that the Young bachelors from the opposite flat are also ogling her. Hira looked at the bachelors from his shade. Nobody knew he was watching. He looked away and started pumping the deflated tyre again. He is just a security guard. What can he do. Also, they would just watch. He would get to sleep with her.
He remembered the day they had that special sex. Their kid had gone to sleep. They had seen this sex in a Porn movie. So easy to see a Porn movie here. You buy a second hand touchscreen phone. He got one at 2500 rupees. Both of them saved for 3 months to buy one. 10 rupees internet pack and you can watch girls like fairies opening up. Men with muscle like seen in paintings doing stuff that you never knew could be done. It was a special occasion. She got her final citizenship proof of this nation.
They were refugees. Born in a nation that was feudal even 15 years back. Except buses that connected some towns to the capital and concrete that made the government buildings. They were almost living in pre-industrial age. Kings ruled absolute. Maoists fought civil wars. The landlocked nation was lying there like a cholera victim, in its own puddle. Even in that puddle, Hira’s father had some money, only some. He hailed from a priests’ family. That helped him to graduate and get married. Hira taught her before they left their nation. There were some colleges but no jobs. Saraswati was pregnant by then. She was 16 by then. Thinner than now. That miscarriage happened in Delhi.
Delhi was huge. At times Hira felt it was the world. He had never seen the sea, But the cars moved like sea. Neither had papers. Nobody crosses the border with papers but tourists. Oh yes tourists. He remembers, few used to come to his village every year. There was a racket of people who would earn from those foreign goldmines. He never even had talked with one.
They came with a local friend. In return of some money. Both were scared at first. But soon , saw so so many of his own people earning, living amongst these people doing odd jobs, they soon realized it was normal.
The guy was of very low caste in whose home he lived in Delhi searching for odd jobs. Saraswati used to teach his little children. In his own country they would not even touch this guy, but here he was their savior. Uneducated savior of the Graduate and his wife. They became friends. And soon as he shifted to Bangalore, so did Hira and his wife with him.
Hira looked up. Saraswati had gone to wash their own dishes now. Post that she will need to run to the Yellow house about a kilometer from here. There she would do the same thing she does in all houses where she works as a maid. She would wash dirty dishes, wash and let the clothes to dry, Sweep and Wash the floor and stuff. He Looked up the window of the bachelors. One of the guys is smoking and looking at the sky dejectedly. Yeah, they don’t know what to do when its Sunday. Instead of Saraswati Hira goes to their flat to do the maid’s work. Bloody bachelors. They pay him less cause they got a Washing machine. He saw such machines first in his life once he started working as a house help in here. He looks at the clouds. Security guard and Maid. He is a graduate. But his graduate papers have no value here. He is illegal. His fraud papers wont get him in trouble if there is no background investigation. And he is earning well. Between them both working its near about 30 to 40 thousand a month. Little Roshan is going to an Indian School. But he is a graduate. He looked around. Even the sun seemed indifferent to him. Shining as happily as it can before it sets. Hira has to wash the Cars as well. Oh great how did it get so late today. If Roshan wakes up before he is done, it will be so difficult to work. He thinks of his son. Saraswati conceived Roshan as a result of their first special sex. Maybe he will be a special man when he grows up. Hira dreams on, maybe his son will get a flat like those bachelors have taken, maybe he will go to office on weekdays, maybe he will smoke and look at the sky like that dejectedly, maybe he will ogle with his friends too, Hira shuddered. It was fear and relief both. He could not dream further than that. He would have to complete washing those cars. The moody sun too, would have to set any moment now.