Delhiwale: His precious punkah

Auto rickshaw driver Kuldeep Prasad uses his son's handwritten cardboard sheet as a punkah to beat the heat while waiting for customers, reflecting on his children's future aspirations.

The afternoon air has no breeze. Waiting for a “sawari” near the Shiv Mandir in Chirag Delhi village, the profusely sweating auto rickshaw driver Kuldeep Prasad picks up his punkah and starts fanning it close to his face.

Auto rickshaw driver Kuldeep Prasad. (HT Photo)

The hand fan is actually a white cardboard sheet, one side scrawled with something in Hindi.

“My son’s handwriting.”

A few weeks ago, Kuldeep’s younger child had copied a few lines on the sheet as part of his classroom assignment; afterwards he dumped the thing in a corner of the house and forgot all about it. On a recent morning, while leaving for work, Kuldeep spotted the sheet lying on the floor. He picked it up and carried with him on way out, deciding to use it as a punkah to beat the unbearable “umas (humidity)” of these days, which becomes more torturous while waiting for customers, when the auto is not moving.

“Occasionally when I’m stuck in a jam or in a long traffic light, I read these sentences again and again, mostly to pass the time… my son wrote these!… I wonder what will become of my children, nobody has seen the future.”

Since his day is so hectic, and most of his waking hours are spent on the road, Kuldeep barely manages to interact with his two sons. “We live in Badarpur. Every morning I get up at 5, and help wife Pushpa Devi to get the boys ready in time for the school bus… Sagar Raj is in 11th standard and Saurabh Raj is in 7th… I leave the house at 8, and return 11 hours later. By then the kids are back from the evening tuition, and are watching TV.“

Kuldeep looks sheepish. “Sometimes I reach home so exhausted that it is difficult to fully engage with the children.” Gazing at the son’s handwriting, he reads one of the lines:

Shiksha woh sherni ka doodh hai jo jitna piyega utna daharega (Education is like a tigress’s milk, the more you drink, the greater you will roar).

He smiles sombrely. “Sagar wants to be an IAS officer, Saurabh hasn’t yet talked of his career dreams, maybe he will have some idea in a few years.” Graciously responding to a request, he poses with the precious punkah.