Guwahati ki bheed-bhaad wali sadkon par baarish ki boondein gir rahi thi. Rahul ek purane chhate ke niche khada tha, jiske ched se pani uske ekmatra saaf shirt par gir raha tha. Uske haath mein ek file thi—vahi file jo aaj phir ek "Sorry, we'll call you back" ke saath wapas aa gayi thi.
Rahul ke paas sirf ₹20 bache the. Uske samne do raste the: ya toh wo 5 kilometer paidal chalkar ghar jaye aur un ₹20 se Maa ke liye dawa le le, ya phir bus pakad kar aram se jaye aur Maa ko dawai ke bina rehne de.
Rahul ne bina soche paidal chalna shuru kiya.
Raste mein usne dekha ki bade-bade log chamakti gaadiyon mein ja rahe hain. Usne aasman ki taraf dekhkar bas itna kaha, "Aaj tera waqt hai, kal mera aayega."
Ghar pahunchte hi usne dekha ki Maa ne uske liye thali dhak kar rakhi thi, lekin khud sirf pani peekar so gayi thi taaki Rahul pet bhar sake. Rahul ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye. Usne wahi baith kar apni purani diary nikali aur likha— "Aaj se meri har mehnat ka hisab hoga."
Usi raat Rahul ne faisla kiya ki wo sirf naukri ke bharose nahi baithega. Usne apne purane mobile par typing ka kaam dhundna shuru kiya. Use pata tha ki rasta mushkil hai, lekin uski Maa ki muskuraye uske liye duniya ki sabse badi koshish thi.