Rambabu was the only bangle maker in the village, and undoubtedly the best. Every home in Pidiri had at least one of Rambabu's bangles, right from the Pidiri headman's to the blacksmith's. Rambabu's bangles brought people from the city too. No festival was complete without Rambabu's stall on the village playground. No one could make the conch-shell studded bangles better than him. People say his apprentices have spread far in the world, some across the seas and rivers.
Rambabu kept a silent profile. He would start his work at 10 in the morning and close at 6 in the evening just before the prayers. He never missed the prayer at the temple beside his home. As of now, he had one apprentice, Shamlal, a boy of 19, who was getting well with the work. He was working hard for the annual Pidiri festival where he would sit at Rambabu's stall if he produced the best, as promised by his master. Rambabu had a unique style of bidding farewell to his subordinates. He had always wanted his boys to go out and make their names. "The knowledge must live", he would often say with a smile.
The village festival started, and Shamlal was happy. The week long event was refreshing for the folks who were mostly farmers and poultry men. The night's stage act was always entertaining and the village never slept during those days. Shamlal sold 200 bangles on the first day, and this made him feel elated. He could feel the freedom of creation which Rambabu would speak of during their lessons.
Shamlal went with twice the enthusiasm on the second day of the event. He started well and sold 50 bangles in the first two hours. But in this world of impure intentions and evil minds, happiness seldom lives long! Who knew that night would change Shamlal's destiny forever!
As Shamlal was selling his bangles, a visitor arrived. A man in his 40s perhaps, well-suited and accompanied by a younger friend, started looking at his bangles. The man smoked a lot, and Shamlal could sense the city-smell in him.
"How may I help you?" said Shamlal.
The man replied not, but kept on looking at the bangles. His friend touched them, and seemed to check and whispered in his ears.
"How much?" spoke the friend. He appeared to be the man's employee given the authority to represent.
"Sir, we have these of varying prices, right from..."
"How much for all of them?" the man spoke this time, and interrupted Shamlal rudely!
"Sir, I mean...did you say..I mean, all of these?" said a surprised Shamlal.
"Yes, everything in this shop, including you and your master. Rambabu, isn't it?" The visitor's questions sent a warning of threat to Shamlal, and he couldn't think of anything. Did he just offer to buy their services or the persons...like slaves...or... Shamlal was terribly confused and knew not the plan of action he must take.
"Sir, I won't be able to answer that. I will have to speak to my master."
"Speak to that old man. We meet here tomorrow at the same time. Remember my question: how much for the shop and you men?"
The two persons left, and Shamlal gulped down nearly two bottles of water. He was never terrified in his life this way. He closed his stall early, and ran to meet his master.
Rambabu was sitting peacefully on the verandah in an armchair. He seemed to enjoy the breeze and the classics playing on his little radio. Shamlal did not know how to start.
"Shamlal, done with today's sales early? Must have been a quick wrap-up, won't you say? You are doing good", said the master.
"Babu, the sales are good but I had to close it for the day. There is a problem."
"What problem, Sham? You, alright? You look worried. Speak up. Pull that chair."
"Yes, Babu...today just a few minutes ago, I had a visitor at my stall. I have never seen that man before. He wore a suit and was offering to buy everything in the stall."
"This is good, Sham. He liked your works. What makes you worried then?"
"That's not all. He wants to buy the bangles and me and ...you too."
Rambabu did not speak for a while.
"What do you think, Shamlal? Should we?"
"Babu!!!" Shamlal did not expect a question as this.
"Yes, speak. Must we not expand our work and take it to the cities? Everyone needs better clothes and a scooter. The city has better roads and schools. I wish to listen from you, Shamlal."
Shamlal did not know what to speak.
"Speak up, Shamlal. There is nothing right and wrong here."
"Babu, I respect you a lot. I have learned immensely from you. You are a great master. Your skills are beyond any weight of gold. I have always slept peacefully after work, just because I have never done anything wrong. It is okay to have smaller dreams. These cities, the flamboyance and all the good stuff are good but they are not what we have worked for. We have worked for joy. If we need to settle in those skyscrapers, let our minds decide that, not anyone who barges into our pride and offers a coin. It is joy that has made you a hero in the eyes of everyone who have learned under you. I shall not take this deal if I were you!"
There was silence. Rambabu smiled, sipped some water from his old glass, and said, "Then you have become me, Shamlal. You are ready to take the world. That visitor was my apprentice ten years back. His name is Shaanchand. Today he is a big man in the city. Every year, he visits me during the festival and take the final tests on my behalf. Otherwise, why would you think I shall be absent from the biggest fest of the vllage?" Rambabu broke into a wind of laughter.
Shamlal was still shocked. He felt the utmost pleasure in winning the smiles and pride of his master.
He spoke: "Thank you, Babu. I shall always remember this! You are my hero!"
