System Tiffin: Baba of the Hungry Rebellion
Chapter 4: Rumors, Warnings, and Loss
Days slipped by. On the seventh day, a dignified old man arrived—spotless kurta, sharp eyes, bearing of a sarkari big shot.
He walked in, sat opposite me in the tent. For a full minute, we just stared—his eyes steady, mine curious.
“Uncle, safar mein kuch khaya nahi hoga,” I offered. “Pehle kuch khao.”
I handed him two Set As. He opened them, eyes softening at the sight of mutton curry and kofta.
He sighed, “Toh sach hai, jo log bolte hain.”
“Rumours? Itni jaldi?” I grinned.
He stood, bowed with folded hands. “Naam pooch sakta hoon, baba?”
“Radhe, Radhe Shyam.”
“Bahut accha naam hai.” He stroked his beard, lips twitching with a secret smile.
“Uncle, pehle khao. Aap toh abhi tak chhe barah saans le chuke ho teen sentence mein!”
He laughed, embarrassed, and polished off both meals in three minutes—a family record.
After, I asked, “Uncle, kaun ho aap? Yahan kyun aaye?”
He answered calmly, “Ramakant, Ramesh ka pitaji. Suna, koi amar aadmi yahan hai, dekhne aaya.”
Amar? Oh god, the cola!
I offered him a cola. “Yeh amrit nahi, uncle, bas thanda hai gaon ka.”
He teased, “Fever door karne wala drink? Wah!”
I tried to explain, but he just grinned. I opened the bottle; his first sip made him burp so loud even crows scattered.
He covered his mouth, sheepish, but his face glowed. “Mind cool ho gaya, body bhi shaant. Kya cheez hai!”
No point arguing.
After a pause, he grew serious. “Baba, ek guzarish hai.”
“Cola le lo, uncle.”
“Woh nahi. Mere beta ko shishya bana lo.”
“Woh already hai.”
He smiled. “Formality thi. Ek aur baat kehna tha.”
Why so secretive?
“Bolo, uncle.”
“Desh mein hungama hone wala hai. Kabhi bhagwa dharan karo, toh apna maksad mat bhoolna. Janata ki seva karna.”
His words left me uneasy. This old man wasn’t just any villager.
He left as suddenly as he came—but not without his cola.
