We didn’t get the newspaper the last two days. Our newspaper guy may be late but he delivers, so it was strange that this happened two days in a row.
I called the guy’s home this evening and asked for him. I think his father picked up the phone and said something that I didn’t catch, then handed the phone to his brother, who used to deliver the newspaper to my place.
I asked him why the newspaper hadn’t been delivered.
“Brother expire ho gaya,” he said. (My brother passed away.)
“What happened? How?”
“Accident on ring road. Lorry mar diya.” (Lorry hit him.)
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“The newspaper will be delivered from tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’m sorry again.”
The guy who delivered the newspaper, he couldn’t have been more than 25 years old, probably less. He wore thick glasses that framed young, expressive eyes, he had an innocent smile, and he stuttered a bit. He rode a bike to deliver the newspaper, sometimes a cycle.
Maybe it was the bike he was riding when he was killed. I don’t know, I probably won’t ever know. Maybe his death was reported in the newspaper and I probably read it, without realizing it was him. One more road accident to add to the statistics for this year.
The newspaper will be delivered tomorrow and things will return to normal. Not for the newspaper guy’s family though.
But, life goes on, right?