The Encounter_ the old scrap buyer.

It was about 2pm in the afternoon and it was an off day from work. I just finished lunch and was reclined to the sofa to watch Tv . It took me off guard as the doorbell rang and I rushed to open the door thinking it might be some of those door to door products sellers. When I opened the door, I saw no one but heard the voice of the footstep on the stairs. It sound like someone was climbing the stairs real slowly and was having an exhausting time. I shouted down in assamese (the local language) asking who was there. Then I heard someone asking me if I have any scrap to sell off. I just answered back that I have none of those scraps as I wasn’t interested in entertaining stranger. But I heard him back asking for any old newspapers.  And of course, I have piled up old newspapers just about 10 kilos all for the year. So I waited and to my surprise I saw an old man in his late 60’s. He was carrying a bamboo made bar on his shoulder to carry the old papers and also some of those old irons junks which he said he use to collect and resell. He was the age of my grandpa. I agreed to give the old newspapers but asked him why he is collecting these scraps and what he does with it. He told me that he occasionally go door to door to buy old scraps of papers for his daughter who runs a courier company and that both his son-in-law and daughter sends him to buy these. He also told me that not many in our locality is willing to sell old papers to him even if he visit most of the house. I presumed it in my mind that maybe people don’t agree to sell to him as he is not able to buy with higher price like that of the market junk dealers. He told me he is willing to pay 12Rs per kilo for the papers which I didn’t feel worth to bargain for an old scrap so I just took the papers and gave him.

He began to weigh the papers and it was about 19 and a half Kilos and amounted to 240Rs plus. I told my girls to bring those iron scraps down and I gave him for free . He was insisting to weigh and pay for it too as he is a man who believe in hard earn money and its value and he does not accept anything for free. I kept insisting to take it and after several attempts of making him understand, I was able to convince him to some extent in my broken hindi . The funny part of these conversations were that of a very confusing sentences in broken hindi as he did not even know the local language which I boast about after having learn a little bit of it’s A and B’s. It was a struggle for us both because he could not understand the modernised naga hindi I was talking and it was difficult for me to understand the bihari version of hindi he was speaking. So the entire conversation somewhat went along with both of our very sympathetic hindi.

Little did I know what awaited when finally, he asked me how much he had to pay me. He told me he have no idea about multiplication and additions.Very smartly I calculated and told him it was Two hundred and forty (Pronouncing it in English). He looked up to me with a smile and told me he don’t know the English figures and counting’s. I smiled back at him and told him I neither could tell him the 3 digit figure in hindi since I learnt only from ‘Ek until Pachas’ (1 to 50) even there few of the numbers from paintiis and Chyalis are missing. I recalled the very tiring hindi subject which we waited so much to drop off like an atom bomb until our elementary class and realised its impact. I wrote the number but in vain since he don’t know how to figure the English digits. So the last option was to read in hindi like do,char,shuniye (2,4,0) and we laughed out jubilantly as he was able to understand finally. He paid me and requested to keep more of the papers for him as he will come collecting after few months.

The next few weeks later, as I was walking to the departmental store one afternoon, I saw someone smiling and gesturing from the other side of the road and as I near him, it was the old scrap buyer asking aloud if I have papers kept for him to buy. I smiled off and walked passed. Now as we drive to office, we’d meet him loitering our locality and when he see me, he would ask if I have collected enough. I occasionally meet him on the way and I love to see this old man who would wait with a smile to ask if I have collected enough.