A True Communist

                                     

           "Ramettan is a true communist". I have heard this statement n number of times since 

childhood and since I haven't seen this Ramettan, I have formed an image of a tall well built 

man with big moustache, who is the part and parcel of the lives of the natives. He was the 

answer to all their  problems, hardships and sufferings. Ramettan is somebody who exists in 

everyone's nostalgic childhood. There used to be lots of Ramettans before, not anymore.

 Ramettan is an endangered or rather I would say an extinct species of mankind.

          Ramettan used to be the soul of the party and its activities in that locality,ready to die

 for the welfare of the people. He helped out every other person he met and could be hardly

spotted at his own home. He never bothered to build up a fortune for himself,  but made sure

 that his family was not starving and that his children had good education . All that mattered

to him was the development that was happening through him. A voracious reader that he

was, started libraries by collecting funds from everywhere,insisted people to send their 

children to schools, found out means to educate poor children. There wasn't a life in that 

village that he left untouched. He was there for them, with neither any promises or fake 

smiles nor with an eye at the power he might end up with. He was there,just to help people.

             

         When I was too young, I used to think of seeing Ramettan as the Chief Minister or the 

Prime Minister.There were many instances in my life later on,when I actually thought why 

haven't I heard of this man. Then,as life went on, I neither found time to bother about a 

Ramettan or his political career.

        Now, many years later, as I walked into the shopping complex, saw my dad talking to 

the doorman. A skeleton of a  man,frail and bent with age , the wrinkles on his face disturbed

by a pleasant smile.When asked, I was told it was the same Ramettan, the true communist,

at the age of around seventy-five working on a 12 hour shift as the doorman  to feed his 

ailing wife who, in spite of her poor health, does domestic help at many houses. They had

three children, well, they still have, who totally abandoned them. They had become iritated 

with a father, who sticked on to his principles whatsoever. His three sons where pursuing 

heights,conquering the world while he stood here for 12 hours and then later does any work

 he could get so as to get the medicines for his wife. May be I was wrong . There might have

 been few lives that Ramettan failed to touch.

        In spite of all the hardships at this later phase of life, Ramettan was neither angry with the

world nor had any complaints. He was all smiles, never talked about his troubles, refused

to accept the money my dad offered. He was still the same old communist, a person who 

knew the true meaning of the word.

        As I was leaving,he opened the door for me and I could see the decades of labour in those 

burnt and blistered hands. And that day,I shook hands with a rare species on earth,

 A True Communist.