The jeweller's assistant

She met him for the last time four days before her marriage. He remained sullen. She tried to give him some optimism. He still didn't respond well. She didn't know what else to say. They parted. She married and left town. He knew that there was nothing left for him in that dusty town and decided to migrate for work elsewhere. He had a qualification but no job till then. There was an uncle in Mumbai. He decided to go there. Any work was work. He would do that. And anyway, what was left to savour in his hometown after she had left? Mumbai happened. A jeweller took him in. Small job. Cleaning and upkeep of the store. He did it with a lot of focus. Kept at it all day. One day there was a blast nearby. He closed the store well. The owner came running from wherever he had gone. Bleeding and tattered. The man took him to hospital, stood while he got bandages done. Then, took him home. The jeweller's family never forgot. They gave him better work. Transportation of jewels from Mumbai to Surat and back. He did that well. Not a thing out of place. A couple of years later, they wanted to do a store in Juhu. They asked him to head it. Manage it. He just nodded. One day the owner asked him if he wanted to have a home. He said yes. They gave him a flat in Kandivili. It was theirs. But he could stay till when he wanted. He just nodded. He was like family now. He never went home. He never called his parents over in the intervening few years. But then, after the flat happened, he did. They were ecstatic and came. He treated them well. Showed them his workplace. Gave his mother a gold chain. His mother said that now he had to marry. He refused. They went away, a bit sad. A year later, the jeweller decided that his only sister should marry. They asked the man to come home. They spoke to him. He agreed. He was really family. The sister knew of him for the past year as the dining table conversation was about how good and hard working he was. The family had prospered because of the young man. They married. Had a couple of children in five years. Then, the children grew up. He had prospered well. Big flat now in Khar. Children in good schools in Juhu. Cars. Servants. You know, the whole bit. One day, he checked into the airport. He had his business class tickets in hand and was walking towards security. A harassed woman was pleading with security. They had to let her through fast. Her flight was leaving. It was her. From his hometown. He walked across and helped her. She knew it was him. Hadn't changed much except he looked very rich. And behaved very well. Through her tears, he looked very regal. They didn't speak till they cleared security and he took her bags so that she could walk fast. They didn't know what to speak. Finally, he asked what had happened. It was her husband. He was injured in a gunfight in Kupwara. She didn't know his state. The BSF authorities would help her from Amritsar. But she had to get there first. She started crying. He awkwardly laid a hand on her shoulder. She waded into his arms and cried. He stood there shocked. He didn't know how to respond to her. She broke away after a bit. Muttered her thanks and said her bye. In a flash, again she was gone. A settled life was again left in disarray. The man cried for the first time that day, in an airport toilet.