Puruhoot is happy - today he will get his overtime pay. He is thinking of buying a pair of new shoes for himself. His shoes are not in good condition.
He felt ashamed when his colleague said that he was a miser, but no one knows his problems. He wants to live a royal life but in a job like this, in private sector, it is not easy. When you will be thrown out, you don't know. How much they pay everyone knows. And he has to support his wife and two children.
It is the beginning of a new year. He feels he should be joyful but he is not. The days are short and the nights are long. What's a single-income man to do? He wants to escape to somewhere warm, quiet and peaceful. But he has no money. He is sitting, dreaming about Sudha. He loves her more than words can ever say. Puruhoot knew Sudha from his college days when he was in his final year at MSC and Sudha was doing her graduate work in Arts.
Puruhoot starts dreaming about his past. He remembers the day when he went to Sudha's father and told him that he loved his daughter. Sudha belonged to a rich family. Her parents knew that she would live happily with him, so they allowed him to marry her. Sudha's father wanted his son-in-law to work in his factory, but Puruhoot refused. He wanted to stand on his own two legs. He started to work in a chemical factory. In the evenings, he tutored medical students.
It was a red-letter day when he met Sudha. Puruhoot knew that many of the older boys had a crush on her. But she seemed blissfully unaware of this. Sudha was a swimmer with wide shoulders and beautifully toned arms and legs. You wouldn't say that she was the prettiest girl, but she was beautiful. When she spoke, her head tilted to the right, ponytail and ribbon resting on her shoulder. Her eyes never left yours.
He was sitting in the library reading some book, when Sudha asked him if he knew when Akbar was born. First Puruhoot laughed, and then told her that he was a student of medical science. Sudha's face turned red and she roared with laughter.
At that moment their love story had begun. Puruhoot told her that she should never ask him when Akbar was born because history was not his subject. They started meeting daily in the library and shared their life experiences. One day, when Sudha told him that she to a rich family, Puruhoot became sad. Sudha asked him why he was sad. Then Puruhoot told her that he loved her and that he was from a middle class family. How could they get married? Sudha consoled him and told him that her parents would not act against her wishes. Time flew, and Puruhoot found employment in a local firm.
Late one evening Sudha had asked, "When is your birthday Puruhoot?"
"Everyday." He slumped in the easy chair.
"What do you mean?" She frowned.
"Everyday, from morning to night, I have to work like a machine. I feel hurt when my boss abuses me even though I am doing my job properly. But the next morning I take a new birth for my never ending struggle."
Sudha had comforted him saying that one day his circumstances would change. It was then he had felt the warmth of her hand squeezing his shoulder.
His daydreaming was interrupted when the phone rang. The operator told him that there was a long-distance call for him. After listening to the phone he felt a complex mixture of happiness and sorrow. It was his mother who was living in the village. She had told him that his sister's engagement was next week. Puruhoot didn't know whether to cry or feel happy. He had to go to the village with his overtime pay.
The following week when he returned back to the office, he was wearing slippers. When his boss saw a bandage on his foot he asked, "What happened to your foot?"
"Nothing Sir, it's a little wound."
What could Puruhoot say? He couldn't have said that his shoes were not in a condition to wear, and that he had gone to the village with his overtime pay to attend his sister's engagement. He didn't know how long he would have to suffer from this wound.
