Syed

A young boy dreams of sharing in the fabulous wealth and prosperity enjoyed by the endless procession of foreign tourists who come to admire the crumbling walls and broken edifices surrounding his village.

“Hot chai-tea,” announced Syed cheerfully as he put down two steaming cups of chai at the  table for the tourists.

“Thank you,” said the tall tourist as he reached for the cup. “Ouch!” He exclaimed as his hand recoiled from the hot cup handle, spilling chai all over the table.

“No problem,” Syed said as he wiped up the spilled chai with a cloth that suddenly appeared in his hand. “I will get another cup.” He picked the empty cup off the floor and headed back to the tea stall where Maganbhai was already pouring out a fresh cup.

“Very hot chai-tea, please to be careful,” Syed sang cheerfully as he put down the cup, this time with a paper napkin wrapped around it.

The tourist reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. “Here,” he said, “This is for you. You keep it. It is an old, American quarter. See the ‘1963’ here. They were made of silver then.”

Syed took one delighted and bemused look at the old, pitted coin. “Thank you very much!” he called out as he made his way back to the tea stall.

“What did he give you?” Maganbhai asked.

“It is an old, American coin called a quarter. 1963 series made of silver.” Syed replied, holding up the coin.

“Are you mad? A quarter is where you live when you grow up and get a good job. Police quarter, watchman quarter, railway quarter,” a customer in the tea stall responded derisively.

“You can go now,” Maganbhai said kindly, “Go study for your exam. Your Parmar sir asked me to let you go home early today.”

Syed put down his wiping cloth and headed down the path with his hands in his pocket, his silver quarter nestled in his hand along with the tips other tourists had given him earlier.

Crowds of people were on their way to the mandir and the mazaar on top of the mountain. Excitement and laughter cut through the heat of the evening.

The water in the talao looked cool and inviting. Studying for the exam would have to wait. Syed took off his shirt and placed it carefully at the edge of the talao before wading in and climbing on to the float. Cool water covered his legs. The stillness and calm of the water began to envelope him. The chatter of the crowds began to fade away.

Syed reached into his pockets to count the coins of tip money. It had been a good day. Five tourists, thirty rupees. He placed the coins in his little plastic bag and examined the quarter.

“America!” he whispered to himself. The land where people gave away silver coins and everyone had dollars. He looked at the eagle. It ignored him, its fierce glare directed to the side.

“One day,” he said to himself as he stared at the letters on the other side, ‘In God We Trust.’ “Inshallah! One day I will be there, free.”

The water rippled past the float and filled the talao in circles.