Let Go

The time on the dial read 6. The fuel levels had hit reserves. Arun also had a hunger pang of sorts after the early and hurried bunch. He had been driving for the past 8 hours at a stretch from the metropolis that we call Chennai. Early on, he had lost his way in the maze of toll roads, but the GPS managed to re-route him to the highway down south to Kanyakumari. There are a lot of things one can do in a free weekend, right after getting the first salary, in a new city, but getting out of the city was his first priority. At this moment though, he was on the desperate look out for a refill, for both himself and his rental car. 

The last hour had put on show some serene scenery but no pitstops. Even the small old signboard indicating refreshments off the highway looked promising. He couldn't think of a better choice. He got off the highway and onto the dingy bumpy road that seemed to crave repairs for more than a decade. Dink, Donk. Tin - Tin. The old car was making weird noises. But lo and behold! A pitstop!

The place was huge. There were enough booths to cater to more than fifty vehicles, at any given time. And right across it was a long row of shops. It was one of those huge complexes found on the highways, except that it was not right on the highway and it was stranded. The high winds didn't affect anyone, because there was no one. There was only one light on; the departmental store. Arun was no Sherlock, but he had to ask around. He just parked the car somewhere in the dust and walked to the store.

The glass up front had turned opaque. The weather had taken its toll. It was evident. There were things that were not so evident though; the things that kept puzzling him; why the place was stranded? And why was this store open? He knocked. The door was open. He entered. The aisles were shabby and covered in dust. There was not much in the store. There was a middle-aged man behind the billing counter though. He had on him some rugged, casual clothes; a striped polo shirt, blue denims, and a sad face, which suddenly lit up with a smile.

Arun was accustomed to the "Good Evening Sir. How may I help you?" But to expect that here would be foolish. He did hear something though. The man said, "Hi! Good to see another living soul around here. But, Sorry! We are closed!"

Arun did expect this. Yet, his nature prevented him from walking away. He had to know the story. Apparently, he was in no hurry. He began, "Hi! I'm Arun. I was heading to Kanyakumari. Empty tanks made me take a detour."

"Oh! I'm Shrinath. This was my father's plaza. But, we are out of business."

"You seem to be worried about something. Are you alright? And what are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm fine. Dad's memories bring me here." Shrinath was in a dilemma now. To speak or not to speak, or just to throw the man away. Rationality soon returned. He continued," I shouldn't bother you. Its a long story."

Shrinath appeared honest, innocuous, and in need of a talk. He looked more pathetic than the store's untouched-for-years arrangement. Arun could see this. He said softly, "I am in no hurry."

Shrinath knew Arun was hungry. He was no mindreader. But, no one wants to speak to a stranger, not for free. He opened his tiffin box. There were a bunch of sandwiches in it; some with butter, some with jam, some with both.

"Its not much. But, you can have these. I don't usually expect people here"

Arun was a polite human. Hunger made him do things. He grabbed one right off the bat and spoke, "So, what's the story?"

"It goes back ten years from now. My father had bought this plaza with expectations of making a fortune. The unusually low price for such a place did spook him. However he was too stubborn to let go of such a nice looking investment opportunity. He put all his savings in this. The old highway passed through here. The business was good. We were always busy. Cars lined up. Customers queued up. The orders piled up. We were in profits. Until, one day, the news cropped up. A bigger highway was coming up, and we were gonna be left behind."

Arun grabbed his second sandwich. Shrinath didn't mind. He had someone to speak to. He carried on, "Three years passed in peace. Then, the new diversion was inaugurated. Business started falling. No one wanted to drive extra for anything, Only the loyal ones kept coming back. But, not for long. We cut down on jobs. We had to cut corners. We were scraping through."

"One unfortunate day, my father had to start managing this shop himself, at the counter. We couldn't pay for an employee anymore. Then, the worst nightmare came true. There was an armed robbery by some novice thugs. I only came to know about it in the evening. I cannot describe the scene, nor what I feel. When the police had come, dad was still holding the cash register, with a gun shot in his back. He died in the shop. The business was already on its knees, that shot killed it too."

The piece of bread was buttered well, but he couldn't get it down his throat. Here was a man who had been through all the nightmares, and still remained stoic. Arun could only give his condolescences  He was shaken. He couldn't hear anymore of the story. He got up, gave a firm handshake, thanked Shrinath for the food, and left.

Even as he got on the highway, his mind was still in the shop. The last part of their conversation still kept ringing in his ears.

"No one ever told him; he never let go.

 No one ever told him; they thought he must know."

P.S.