Two worn, weary, dry and cracked feet were peeking from under an old dirty bed sheet. It was early morning and still a bit cold. The first rays of the sun were breaking through the great banyan tree’s branches and touching the feet. The fingers twitched a bit, as if slowly coming to life. Rahmathullah, the rickshaw puller, was waking up.

For him, it was going to be just another day; the same old grind, his struggle for survival. But little did he know, that little ray of sunshine had set everything in motion, set everything right. There was going to be hope now, hope that today and the rest of the days will be good.

From the moment the alarm clock had woken him up, Karan Khanna had a good feeling and he loved it. In the last 15 years of his succesful career as a businessman, his intuition had always been right. Something told him that his multi-million deal with that Australian conglomerate was going to be sealed today. Finally, the years of hard work were paying off. Quickly finishing off his shower and breakfast, he headed off to his office in the city.

Rahmathullah was rushing, hurriedly pulling his rickshaw towards the station. He was late today. Cursing himself for sleeping late, he thought to himself, ‘If only I had not waited at Naseeba’s place yesterday to see the kids… I hope the others are late today too’. He was coming on to the main road and was looking over his shoulder to check the signal light when it happened.

Karan opened his eyes and tried to move but was not able to. His ears were ringing and he could feel something dripping from his forehead. Realizing it was blood, he looked down to check himself. His mouth went dry when he saw a metal rod jutting out from his stomach. He didn’t feel any pain; fearing the worst, he closed his eyes.

It all happened so fast that Rahmathullah took a good two minutes to regain his bearings. He gently got up, looked around and saw a few feet away, a mangled mess that was once his rickshaw cart. His heart sank. Tears in his eyes he looked further down the road and he could see a white car crashed against the traffic island and people gathering around it. Sorrow gave way to anger as he walked towards the crowd to confront the idiot who had destroyed his only means of survival.

Karan felt someone pulling his hand to yank him out and screamed as searing pain shot up from his stomach into his brain. Someone was cutting away the seatbelt that had got jammed and was holding him down. With each slide of the serrated knife on the belt, he felt as if his own body was being cut open by someone. Not being able to bear the pain, he blacked out.

A butcher was one of the several jobs that Rahmathullah had taken up in life early on to survive, so the sight of blood was nothing new to him. But one look at the man who had been driving the car and he was immediately taken aback. The man’s face and shirt were covered in blood and he was still writhing in pain as people were trying to pull him out of the car. Anger was gently giving way to sympathy.

Three days later…

As the sedative started to go away, Karan slowly opened his eyes. The inside of an ambulance, that strong smell of a hospital and the occassional soft voices of someone were the only things he could remember after the crash. Apart from a slight pain on his forehead and abdomen, he was feeling alright. He tried to sit up but immediately chose not to as he could feel a tightening of his stomach and sudden pain all over. A lady doctor came in just then and asked, ‘Good morning. How are you feeling Mr. Khanna?

‘It’s hurting a bit’, said Rahmathullah to the nurse who was checking in on him. ‘Good, you should be good to go by end of this week then.’ ‘Inshah Allah, how is that car driver doing? ‘ ‘He just gained consciousness this morning. Oh I forgot, your daughter asked me to tell you that she will be coming late today. She said something about having to go to the school or something.’ ‘Okay, when she comes can you ask her to wake me up in case I am sleeping?

‘Sure Mr. Khanna. I will have you wheeled downstairs to meet him when I am done with my rounds. But for now, you need to rest.’ Karan smiled, ‘Thank you doctor. You can call me Karan’. ‘And you can call me Kalpana’, she smiled back.

A year later…

A white car slowed down and stopped in front of a swanky office building. ‘Thanks Rahmath bhai… Can you pick up Kalpana from the hospital on your way back?’ ‘Sure beta, night shift again?’ ‘Yes bhai’, said Karan and walked towards the entrance. Rahmathullah called out from the car, ‘Beta, you forgot the waterbottle. It’s too hot these days.’ Karan walked back to the car and took the bottle from Rahmathullah’s hand, ‘Of course, how did I forget! Thanks bhai, I’ll take good care of your kidney’. Karan winked with a smile and walked back. Rahmathullah looked at an energetic Karan jogging up the stairs to his office and sighed, ‘Masha Allah’.

The morning rays of the sun were gleaming on the mirrored facade of the building. There was hope now, hope that today and the rest of the days will be good.