“Madam, 10-20 rupaya zyada doge toh kya fark padega?”
This was the auto guy asking for Rs. 100 instead of the usual Rs.
80 to take me from Jangpura B to my office at Gole Market yesterday. I did what
I do everyday. I told him that the “meter” rate is Rs. 74; that I am losing 6
rupees per trip anyway because no one returns the change; and that I don’t want
to pay extra for an everyday destination.
As the auto travelled along Mathura road, I was thinking of the
times when the value of 10-20 rupaya was much more for me.
I never got a specific amount of pocket money in college. Mom
used to give bus fare and extra 10 rupees for other expenses at the beginning
of week. I knew I am expected to manage 3-4 days with that. Middle Class
families had no money to waste at that time. But things were cheaper. The bus
fare from Sealdah station to college was one rupee and on some days, I used to
save it by walking all the way. It was not much for a 17-year-old and there
were many things to observe along the route. I was never good with finances,
though. I will save 10 rupees after a lot of efforts and on an impulse spend it
on my favourite Sportstar magazine (is it still published?) or on a movie.
The first movie I saw with college friends was “Baby’s Day Out”.
It was raining since morning and a few professors did not turn up. The city had
a cloudy sky and a faded yellowish glow which brings out that typical
Calcutta-type feeling of nostalgia. Along with two of my friends, I walked to
one of the cinema halls in nearby Esplanade (either New Empire or Globe, I
don’t remember) . However, there was a House-full board.
One of the friends then spotted a “blacker” muttering “10 ka
20/10 ka 20”. (We didn’t give much thought to the moral aspect of buying from
blackers at that time. They were just an indicator of the popularity of a
particular film. With the advent of multiplexes, blackers have disappeared.
We pooled nearly all of our money but were still six rupees
short. We told the guy that this is all we have. He looked at our eager faces,
nearly smiled, and said “okay”.
After thoroughly enjoying the movie (I still see it every time I
find it on TV), we headed home amid more rains. A Sealdah-bound bus picked us
up and then it was the time to collect all the coins in our purse, mostly of 10
and 20 paisa. After we poured Rs 3 in coins on his palm, the conductor, for
some strange reason, did not look very happy.
That was 1994. Cut to 1999. I was going to Kolkata GPO to post
my application for the post of a trainee journalist in PTI. They had asked for
a Rs. 200 postal order. I was, however, not aware of the fact that 10 per cent
fee is also charged for it. And I realized, to my horror, that I have only Rs.
208 and that the last date is so near that if I cannot post the application
today, it won’t reach Delhi on time.
So I went nearly five kms back to Sealdah, knocked at a friend's
door in Suri Lane and took a 20-rupee loan. I got that job. And life took a
turn.
Hota hai jee, 20 rupaya
mein bhi bohot kuchh hota hai
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