Framed....

“Photo frames done here”
The steel plate hung like a prisoner restrained with manacles. The sheen on the metal plates had worn out. The white calligraphy peeled off from the black background in separate quarters. Dancing to the tune of the passing wind was the only distraction. Ramu squatted in the lonely quarter of the room. His memories flooded with moments of the once princely style of living. The teeming crowd, those bustling streets, thriving business establishments, wealthy households, colorful living, opulent smiles, happy faces and the cascade took him to a higher echelon of thoughts.
“Worth emulating” – many a passer by had quipped at his workaholic nature.
The golden frames often competed the golden morning rays for the skin tone. Ramu had lost number on the frames he had done. Gods, goddess, animals, birds, sceneries, vehicles, men women, children and how many infinite subjects in Gold, silver, wood, and pulp. And once experimenting with cardboard sandwiched and glued one upon another for a marvelous creation. He still vividly remembered the smile on the innocent face and the golden watch his parents gifted. The watch stopped ticking long ago, almost at the time when time began its ugly taunting grimace. The kid won many a laurel for the painting Ramu-da had framed in the special cardboard construction. They believed his handicraft as a luck charm till they too shifted home like the little humming birds that left the nest once the little wings were strong enough to fly. How weak and tired his heart grew then. Always missing the thought of missing the kid’s little laughter that broke his thick blanket of seemingly small miseries. He sometimes felt a pang during idle hours that his luck left with the kid and his embellished frame.
How his hands used to carefully chisel the designs on the four corners and around the frame. The generous applause and the demand for more of the variants echoed in his present state of woe. How happy had his workers been? How lavishly was every festival celebrated? The affluence in those unselfish smiles always welcomed the best of work from their hearts. Times had changed, people too.
The once particular incident of an enquiry and the subsequent order for a thousand look-alike photo frame surfaced in his thoughts. How striking it looked when the similar elegance with different captive gods smiled in a stack, ready to be imported. The deadline and the extra effort he put in ensuring his workers getting the due were highly appreciated. The letter of appreciation lay cobwebbed and uncared in yet another unknown corner of the warehouse today. The business lost out to the flourishing new business, to faster output, to better designs.
“ Below par compared to your designs ” – he remembered the smirking remark from a patron; and how he mockingly depreciated the imported, colorful photo frames as swarming mosquitoes out of nowhere, till yesterday when the little kid doubted “Photo frames done here? Doesn’t it come readymade?”
He remembered the transitory phase from where his small world started going topsy-turvy and the carelessness with which he looked down upon it. The usual sense of optimism kept him going, till he knew the business sinking. Alas it was too late for a revival. To stay afloat in the readymade market was more than difficult, he found himself getting strangulated with the workers who found the heat unbearable without overtime. Lamination changed the whole outlook of his little crafts. He lost the entire niche clientele. Even the loyal workers shifted base once his purse suffered. Not one from the umpteen gods he gave life to helped his business survive the intense of times. He had framed them for good and now he stood framed and frozen before the loneliness surrounding his survival. The morsels of food looked at him in pity, and he flung the saucer like a flying disc. Food spread on the disintegrated walls and cracked floors. Even the insects didn’t come to inspect. Everyone had deserted him. Disgust and shame had overhauled his personality. He found hatred everywhere, a sticking repulsion. His eyes had grown vacuously callous. Anguish dug it deep nails deeper to reach his bones. It split open. It was torture in a different league.
He knew his little mistakes, to have trivialised the competitor in front of his huge business, to marginalize the instincts had been another and his inability to cope with the new environment of change had done him in. he closed his eyes for a tear to drip, but again the reluctant tear evaporated.
A head stooped and looked inside his shanty. Ramu didn’t care to enquire the stranger for there was nothing to rob, not even his dignity.
“Uncle, can you do me a favour?” Now what more of him remained to help? – Ramu thought in the distraught emptiness snuffing life out from inside and outside. He puffed the beedi’s last inch and snuffled inquiringly.
The stranger enquired again “ Can U?”
Without waiting for the tired head to nod, he continued. “Can you frame this photograph for me, in golden borders, with the grape yard creeper design, & a small base at the bottom for a light to fit”
Ramu opened his palm and accepted the rolled photo.
“The advance or the whole amount will be paid as you say”- The stranger said with an emphasized tone.
The acceptance was immediate. The elastic band swiftly removed, Ramu’s eyes glued at the photograph. A waiting exclamation took seat. It was long since his eyes had grown so wide and suddenly moist.
The little boy had grown so big and handsome.
“ What happened to Kaku sahib?” – Ramu enquired out of all eagerness.
“ He is no more, died a peaceful death a week back…and he always jovially told us to frame his photograph with those special photo frames at Ramu’s…” The boy’s voice trailed.
Ramu’s eyes brimmed within and his heart felt heavy with a deadly emotion pinching the crevices through which blood flowed all these years.
“What are you doing beta, do u still paint a lot?”
The sweet childish innocence once again covered the strangers face.
“ Am creative head with an advertising agency, enjoying my work of art and evaluating others too…” Pride reflected in his overtones.
A sense of gratitude prevailed in the breathing. Ramu’s face creased a healthy half smile, the forehead wrinkled in countable crumples. Kaku sahib’s death is paying him money, making him a little wealthy, helping him a week of tasty food. For the first time in life he thanked almighty for an unwelcome death.
“ Baba always appreciated your work and recounted that your luck charm brought us the good in life…”
Ramu wet the dirty dhoti’s corner with some disobedient tears, while the stranger continued.
“…and am here today not just for your work of art, but to appoint you as guide for the trainees in my Ad studio… are you ready to accompany”
No questions, on where when and how. Ramu though unaware of Advertisement and its nuances or explanation nodded involuntarily. He felt an inexplicable feeling of good submerging his self. A whisper rang around. A blanket of warmth surrounded him. Ramu felt the viscousness of Kaku’s soul. He supposed that Kaku had come to return a slice of the once stolen luck, to help him survive.
Life didn’t seem miserable like it seemed hours before. Blood started to flood the parched nerves. Energy began to fill the cells devoid of food. Starvation took a great exit. Life instilled Ramu enquired
“Let’s go?”
Bending his back out of the hanging roof, he wiped the dust off the steel plate, unshackled it, and sheltered it with a newspaper. His bones ached at the smoothness of the untried cushions of the car. The sheen returned with the minor glitches suffered during the test of time… The car moved on to another destination, wind desperately kissed his forehead, acknowledging and welcoming him to where life waited with golden frames for a new guest.