The paper collector

The paper collector

The Raddhiwala

They call him

———————-

Paper

Metal

Cartons

Plastic

Not glass

It has no value

———————

Furniture

At rock bottom prices

To be resold

——————-

Cartons

Ordinary

Stamped out

Flattened

Bought at paper rates

—————-

The sturdy ones

Like the refrigerator

Cartons

He pays a bit

They are reused

———————-

Washing machine

Only hundred

The weight

It’s worthless

Laptop

Stone

Fridge

————-

TV

Mixer

All worth

It’s weight

Worth

In metal

————-

Most of them

They’re dead

——————-

But sometimes

They’re gold

————

His mechanic

He charges

Two hundred

But only if

The thing

Comes back to life

————

Sometimes the buttons

They light up

Two hundred

To pay

——————

He’s hit the jackpot

He’ll sell it

For a tidy sum

Paying the mechanic

He doesn’t mind

At all

—————

Then

The books

The magazines

He doesn’t know

How to read

He spreads them out

On the front

Of his store

——————

They come

The children

The youth

The old

He haggles a bit

He lets them go

——————

They are

His best customers

Those who don’t bother

Checking the

Scales

Or negotiating

The rates

——————

He’s not swindling

It’s upto them

To check

—————-

The papers bundled

In a jiffy

Hauled to the auto

To his tiny shop

He’s done

—————-

He’s rigged up

The scales

But everybody

Does

He won’t make money

If he doesn’t

He can’t then pay

As much

As the others do

—————-

They check

They insist

On starting

With zero

They tell him

—————-

He’s trying to cheat

The haggling

The talk

The posturing

It’s all part of the game

——————

The young

They don’t bother much

He gives them

A decent rate

And he’s off

—————

The old

It’s another matter

The fight

For every rupee

They want more

Than the rate he quotes

—————-

They peer

With their spectacles

At the number

On the scales

It’s one they exclaim

You’re cheating

Correct it

To zero

———————-

Sorry he says

You are welcome

To check

He answers

They feel good

They think

They’ve caught him

They don’t know

He’s rigged them

The scales

Even more

——————-

The five kilos

After the adjustment

Is six

—————-

They bring their own

Weighing machines

No he says

Your’s are not

Accurate

—————-

He’s not cheating

He earns an honest living

Going up and down the stairs

Lugging the newspapers

To his tiny shop

—————-

The ragpickers

Theve stopped now

The garbage

It’s all recycled

Or taken away

By the government

—————

Every evening they come

They’re rates are fixed

They have their own weighing machine

They segregate

Weigh

Pay

And they’re gone

He’s earned his living

For the day

——————

He’s part of

The recycling process

He’s proud

Of what he does

He’s just

Trying to survive

The same as the other

Paper collectors

——————-

A honest living

By the sweat

Of his brow

—————-

He’s saving

——————

His dream

One day

He’ll own

A grocery store

——————-

No haggling

No cheating

Honest business

—————-

He’ll make a good living

His conscience clean

—————-

Hie weighing scales

Will then

Not be rigged

He will not be called

The Raddhiwala