The Selfish One - 3

 

Artwork by Tony D'souza

And the truth shall set you free

“What do you mean?” asked the officer, sounding perplexed.

“I am the selfish one,” he repeated, “Or that is what my kin call me.”

‘Family drama, it is,’ thought the officer inwardly, as he wafted the smoke away from him, “Aye Hemant, stop smoking in here. Go out if you want to.” He barked at the constable smoking beedi next to him. The constable recoiled and went to the door immediately. He turned his head back to Wilson. “Why are you saying like that? Tell me from the start.”

“My family calls me selfish from the day I bought the car,” said Wilson, in a quiet voice.

“You mean that Nano which is still parked out there?” the officer asked, piqued by the mention of the car, “Well, the car is not that expensive! I mean, it is not hard to buy that car after all, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I know what you mean,” said Wilson, nodding, “Even I thought that my family will get the point. Only they didn’t.” Saying this, his face again became doleful.

“Well, what happened?” burst out Hemant from the door. He was not able to disguise his restlessness any longer.

“In the last five years, ever since I started working, I’ve taken care of all my family’s financial needs,” said Wilson rapidly, “I never blew my money on clothes, shoes and other perks. I never really fancied spending money on such stuff. 

“All these years, I was the devout son, the devout brother who kept others priorities before his own. And it is not like that I did this because someone asked me to,” he said, a little aggressively, “I did this because I wanted to. If one doesn’t look after their own, then who would?

“My life was quite content. I loved my job, I mean I still do,” he said, smiling a little as he mentioned about his job, “They are nice people.”

“How does the car come into the picture?” asked the officer, a little impatiently.

“I thought of buying a car because it would have been good for everyone in the family,” he said, stating the obvious, “I thought we could go to Sunday mass together; go for late night drives, roam the streets after sunset, go to remote beaches, road trip and other stuff. 

“Therefore, I used my savings to buy it,” he said, sounding shocked at his own decision, “But when I finally brought it home, all hell broke loose.”

There was complete silence in the van. The other policemen waited with bated breath, all of them excited and apprehensive to know what happened next.

“I imagined them to be happy. Excitement, happiness and cheers were the things that I was expecting but instead I got shouted on, yells and a slap.”

“WHAT?” roared the constable, “You got slapped? Just for buying the car?”

“Yes and no,” said Wilson, “They were angry on me for blowing my savings when purchasing it was absolutely unnecessary. They argued the point of buying it. They stated that I just bought it to flash it in front of my friends and prove that I am the best! Can you believe that? My uncle slapped me because he felt it treachery that I did not hand my entire money to him but saved it for myself. After all, that I did for them, I got a slap, A SLAP!!!!!!!”

Wilson broke down. He began crying in earnest. Those feelings building up in him over the past weeks burst out and refused to be stemmed. He let his tears run down his cheeks. His nose started flowing but he didn’t care. He wasn’t bothered by the stares that he was receiving from the guys around. He felt naked, helpless, a victim of his own sacrifices. 

The policemen didn’t knew what to say. They simply stared at the boy in front of them. Hemant placed his hand on his shoulder as a sign of solidarity.

The only one who did not display any emotion was the officer. He had a stony expression on his face. He stared at Wilson crying for a very long time.

“I don’t get it,” said the officer, after some minutes, “You wanted to commit suicide because of your family rejecting the car?!” He had an incredulous expression on his face.

The other policemen stared at the officer angrily. Why was he chastising the boy?

“You just don’t get it, do you?” asked Wilson scornfully, “It is not about the rejection of a car, it is a rejection of me! My life, my freedom. If I can’t do something that my heart desires, then what is the point of my living then? I gave up so many things for them – my studies, my social life – and in return, I got nothing. NOTHING! They never loved me! They never cared for me!” He was almost choking as tears were literally flowing from his eyes, “They will never love me.

“And yes, that is why I wanted to die,” said Wilson, in a tone that suggested the discussion was over, “Try it officer, try living life without love and then, you will get my point.”

The officer’s face was expressionless. He continued to gaze into Wilson’s eyes. It looked like he wanted him to go on.

“Life is not worth living without love,” said Wilson finally. He broke off and cupped his face in his palms. Hemant was actually consoling him, speaking softly in his ears.

“Saheb, jaao dya pora la,” said Hemant.

“No, he won’t go,” said the officer, standing up. Taking Wilson by the arm, he pulled him up and said, “You are coming with me.”

“What!” exclaimed Wilson. He was taken aback by the officer’s sudden response. “Are we going to the police station?” his heart sank. He was dreading this moment since the time the police caught him and stopped him from jumping. He wished he had not wasted in time in dawdling by the bridge.

Wilson sat in the police car while the office took the wheel. He forbade the other constables from coming along and had to subdue a hesitant Hemant from tagging along. 

The rains had stopped. The streets were completely deserted, not a single soul in sight. The silence felt eerie. Wilson lowered the vent glass. The air felt cooler. Wilson closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the wind ripping through his hair. Hours ago, he hated even the air that he breathed. 

They were driving through the suburban area of Goregaon. Not a single word was spoken in the meantime. Wilson couldn’t take it any longer.

“So, where are we going?” asked Wilson, not sure whether he would get a response from him.

“You will see,” said the officer, “We have almost reached.”

The car drove quickly through the wet streets. Dawn was approaching. As they drove through the Linking road past the Inorbit mall, Wilson pointed out and said, “My office is just behind Hypercity.”

“Glad to know,” said the office indifferently. 

The officer drove for another twenty minutes. Wilson thought they were headed for the deserted Aksa beach area. But just before they reached Marve, the officer took a left from a church and drove through a narrow street.

They had reached the end of the lane. Wilson looked on confused. They had driven all the way from Bandra to here, at the end of a dark lonely street. He didn’t understand what was happening.

“Here we are,” he said quietly, “Get out.”

(To be continued)