There are three of them and only three, because they have no parents, and there's no burden of brothers or sisters or wives or anything like that. Where would such burdens come from anyway? Their meager earnings barely cover their own food and clothing, let alone all those 'responsibilities'! Yes, that's what they call such things these days—responsibilities.
And what earnings! How much could they possibly be? One of them pulls a rickshaw for a moneylender next door; his name is Raju. Lalu learned to count up to three; he's now the 'managing director' of someone's betel leaf shop. And then there's Samir. He's an 'engineer' for washing cars at a garage. And so they all hold these positions with great honor.
Samir is thinking, will anything ever be resolved by drowning in such uncertainty? "Whatever! What will be, will be!" he says, shaking Raju awake. "I've been feeling terrible since last night. Couldn't sleep properly," Raju says, startling up, and at the same time Lalu's sleep breaks too. All three can see their 'shelter-provider'—the truck—standing there.
The bitter cold of Magh month. A khadi shirt, old-fashioned style; a borrowed lungi—so many patches have been sewn onto it that it's become quite a 'design.' How will they ward off winter's chill with these? Besides, Magh month holds winter's complete dominion; and all three are in the same condition. If that truck hadn't come at night, it would have been nearly impossible to get through the night.
The municipal road has widened considerably in this area. On the right side of the road, an ancient banyan tree stands silent as a timeless witness. Beneath it, a hotel, a rickshaw repair shop, and a few betel leaf stalls. The banyan tree, screening all these, has left some space clear for the truck, and at a little distance beneath it these three souls have taken shelter.
Right after they wake in the morning, the black truck rumbles to life, shrouding the area in a cloud of black smoke, and slowly drives away. It returns again in the deep of night, when they've fallen asleep, and so it goes every day.
When they are lost in deep sleep at night, the truck comes panting and wheezing to stand beside them with the most affectionate manner. As if it wants to say, "Oh, you've all fallen asleep!" Then that voice, touched with wounded feeling: "I'm so busy with work that I can't come to you on time. My dear children! You're drenched with dew! Come, come closer, even closer."
By now someone's sleep might have broken from the engine's roar. Rubbing eyes and face, they see the truck has come to stand beside them. Then they move closer to the machine and sleep deeply with satisfaction. It feels as if, responding to that call, they go to rest beside a kindred spirit.
The next day they wake quite early and, as usual, see the truck standing there. Winter dew is falling down the face of the sky. Dew collects drop by drop on the truck's body. Here and there drops form and roll down. After Samir, the other two have just returned from washing their hands and faces. They come back to find Samir lost in some thought.
"What's wrong? Why are you sitting there all gloomy?" Raju asks.
"No, nothing! I'm remembering my mother." Samir sighs, his voice detached.
"Then why are you staring at that truck?" Raju's curiosity grows.
"Yes, that's our mother." As Samir speaks, his dark eyes cloud with tears. By now Raju and Lalu understand the weight of these words and together, in choked voices, utter: "Mother!"
Suddenly they startle at the sound of the engine starting, and then they hear the driver's voice. "Hey you! Get lost! Can't you see? No father or grandfather's address, coming here to sleep. This is government property!" And without taking offense, they move away, because they've gotten used to it.
Truly, seeing them, one would think that the truck and they are bound by some strong thread. Their logic is simple: both are shelterless!
Following eternal custom, day rolled into night and deepened. They are all asleep. Someone seems to be silently gesturing for them to move away.
Samir's sleep has broken. Looking, he sees their 'shelter-provider' truck in the distance. The two headlights are growing from small to large... finally largest. In the intense light he could see Raju and Lalu sleeping unconsciously. After the brilliant light, sudden darkness. The world seemed to tremble slightly. Oh my God...! Then again silent, still.
Samir seems to see clearly—the tender face of the truck, as helpless and dependent as themselves, crumpled in the inhuman agony of motherhood.