The “Big Dad”

THE “BIG DAD”  

Fiction Short Story

By

VIKRAM KARVE

“When did this tea stall open…?” the boys asked me.

“I have just opened today morning – you are my first customers…” I said.

“That’s good – we can have a cup of tea before we catch the morning train to go to college…” one of the boys said – there were 5 boys in all.

“Will you all like to have tea…?” I asked.

“Yes – and – have you got cigarettes…?”

“Yes…”

“Give us a cup of tea and a cigarette each…”

The 5 college students drank their tea and smoked their cigarettes.

An attendant came out of the Station Master’s Office and sounded the Bell.

“The train is coming – let’s go…” one of the boys said.

They gave me their tea glasses and they started to walk away.

“50 Rupees…” I said.

“What 50 Rupees…?” one of the boys asked.

“25 for the 5 Teas – and 25 for the 5 Cigarettes…” I said.

“You are new here – aren’t you…?” one of the boys asked me.

“Yes…” I said.

“Do you know who he is…?” the boy said – pointing towards another boy – who seemed to be the leader of the group.

“No…” I said.

“He is Durjan Singh’s son – and – we are his friends. Do you understand…?

“Yes…” I said.

My Uncle had told me about “Durjan Singh” – the local “Dada” – the “Big Dad” – the uncrowned “King” of this place.

In fact – it was with Durjan Singh’s “Blessings” that my Uncle (the Station Master) had managed to let me open my Tea Stall at the Railway Station.

It could hardly be called a “Tea Stall” – it was actually just a “Cart” – with a stove, a few pots, a flask, a tray with glasses, and a box for cigarette packets.

As far as the “Railway Station” was concerned – this was the smallest Railway Station I had seen – it was more of a “halt” – just one solitary platform – and – except for the slow passenger trains to the junction nearby – hardly any train stopped here.

The train arrived.

The college students got in.

Three men got out.

They looked at me – they looked at the Tea Stall – and they walked towards me.

“I haven’t seen you here before…?” one of the men said.

“I have just opened today…” I said.

“That’s good – give us some tea…” the man said.

I said to him: “Yes Sir – do you want cigarettes…?”

“You have cigarettes too…?”

“Yes…”

“Okay give us 3 cups of tea and two cigarettes – he doesn’t smoke…” the man said, pointing towards one of the three men.

The three men drank their tea – and two of them smoked their cigarettes.

They kept their glasses on the cart.

“25 Rupees, Sir…” I said to the man who had ordered the tea.

“25 Rupees…?”

“Sir – 15 Rupees for the 3 Teas – and 10 Rupees for the 2 Cigarettes…” I said.

“How dare you ask for money…? Do you know who we are…?” the man said menacingly.

“No, Sir…” I said, feeling scared at the man’s tone.

“Have you heard of “Durjan Singh”…?” he asked – pointing his finger threateningly at me.

“Yes, Sir…” I said, trembling inside.

“We are his men. We work for “Durjan Singh”. Do you understand…?” the man said to me.

“Yes, Sir…” I said.

The three men walked away.

So – they were gangsters – belonging to the “Durjan Singh Gang”.

My uncle had told me that “Durjan Singh” was the local “Dada” – but I didn’t know that he was such a big Gangster.

What a name – “Durjan” – it meant “Rogue” – a “bad character” – an Evil Scoundrel – a “Villain”…

How could parents name their child “Durjan” – unless it was a family of ancestral gangsters…?

This “Durjan Singh” – he must be a really terrible fellow – and – everyone seemed to be working for him – everyone seemed to be a gangster in this horrific place…

I made up my mind to get out of this horrible place at the first opportunity.

I started to wind up my cart.

My uncle had told me to wait till the morning ‘Passenger’ Train which came at 9:30 – but there was no point – since – even if there was some “customers” wanting tea and cigarettes – no one was going to pay any money – since – everyone out here was related in some way or the other to that all-powerful evil gangster “Durjan Singh”…

While I was washing up – I saw a man dressed in a Safari Suit walking towards me.

He looked like a gentleman.

He seemed to be out of place in this horrid uncivilized place – he was probably a visitor from the town.

“Can I have a cup of tea…?” he asked politely.

“Yes, Sir…” I said, “Will you like a cigarette with your tea…?”

“No – I don’t smoke…” he said, “I’ll just have a some tea…”

I poured tea into a glass from my flask – and – I gave the glass to the man.

“Thank you…” he said with a smile.

He sipped his tea.

I gathered my things.

He asked me: “You seem to be closing down...?”

“Yes, Sir…” I said.

“It’s only 9 o’clock – why don’t you wait for the 9:30 Passenger Train – you will get plenty of customers. Many people take that train to go to work in town…” the man said.

“Sir – what’s the point of having more customers – in fact – the more customers I have – the more loss I will make…” I said.

“Really…? Why do you say that…? How can “more customers” mean “more loss”…?” the man asked me.

“Sir – it seems that no one pays money over here – everyone seems to be a freeloader – right since morning – I have had many customers – they had tea, cigarettes – but not a single customer paid for the tea and cigarettes – they all want it free…”

“That’s funny…”

“Sir – there is a “Big Dad” called “Durjan Singh” out here…”

The man looked at me and said: “...“Big Dad”...? You mean a “Gangster”...?” 

“I don’t know, Sir. I have never met him. And – I wish I never meet him. He must be really scary – a terrible fellow – some sort of “Mafia Boss”. This whole place seems to be his “fiefdom”...” I said. 

“Mafia Boss...? Fiefdom...?” 

“Yes. This “Durjan Singh” seems to be a dreaded “Mafia Boss”. And – everyone seems to be related to him in some way or the other – so they don’t pay. First his son and his friends came – they had tea and cigarettes – but they refused to pay – then – his men came – they too refused to pay for the for tea and cigarettes they had – all freeloaders – when I asked them for money – they threatened me with his name…”

“Is that so…? Anyway – I am going to pay. How much for the tea…?” 

“Five Rupees, Sir…” I said.

The man kept the glass on the cart.

Then – he took out his wallet from his breast pocket and extracted a hundred rupee note.

He held out the 100 Rupee Note towards me.

“Sir – I don’t have change. I told you, Sir – no one has paid me since morning…” I said.

“Open my account – I will be having tea here every morning…” he said – and he gave me the 100 Rupee Note.

I took the 100 rupee note from him. 

I looked at him and said: “Sir…?”

“Yes…?”

“Sir – may I know your good name…?”

“Durjan Singh. My name is “Durjan Singh”…” the man said. 

The man smiled at me.

Then – he walked away. 

VIKRAM KARVE

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Disclaimer: 

This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in this story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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This is a revised repost of my story THE VILLIAN posted online earlier at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2016/07/the-villain-short-story.html