In 1869, in the land of the rising sun, an innovative individual found a brilliant up-gradation for the Kago, a sedan chair form of human transportation carried by two persons. He attached two large wheels to a seating cradle with two extended arms, which allowed a single human being to pull the vehicle. This new rolling cart on wheels was called the Jin-riki-sha, wherein jin meant human, riki meant power, and sha meant conveyance.
It took another five years for this revolutionary personal transport to reach the shores of China from Japan, from where it gradually spread to Singapore, Indonesia, Malaysia, and India. For the millions of poor, illiterate, and unskilled men living in the cities, this cheap means of transportation soon became a minimal source of income.
A hundred-and-fifty years later, in 2019, sixty-year-old Mustafa Miyan earned a meagre living of around two hundred rupees per day, pulling a similar Jin-riki-sha in the streets of the ‘City of Joy,’ Kolkata. A century earlier, in 1919, the British had passed the Hackney Carriage Act allowing the hire of hand-pulled rickshaws in the city as passenger transport vehicles.
Using a man to pull another human served the British well to reinforce their master-slave power hierarchy in the colonies. Though the British were long gone from the country, men like Mustafa continued living a life of servitude, pulling another person for a few coins.
Though post World War II as colonialism declined in Asia and the hand-pulled rickshaw gradually ebbed away from the erstwhile British colonies, strangely, it continued to operate in the streets of Calcutta, becoming a contradictory icon of the vibrant metropolis. It continued to trot in the port city long after India’s independence in 1947. On one hand, it was a relatable image of the city, and on the other, a depiction of shameful reality.
Even the pro-labour-class Communist Government that in China had been successful in banning the hand-pulled rickshaw in 1949 was unable to take it off the streets during the thirty years of their unchallenged rule in the ‘City of Joy.’ In 2019, there were an estimated fourteen thousand unlicensed and five thousand licensed rickshaws in the metropolis. It was savage and despicable to see human horses continue to pull people and load in the heat and rain for a few coins for eighteen hours a day in the twenty-first century.
Every year during the lean agricultural season, Mustafa Miyan would come to the city for four to five months from his tiny and obscure village in Bihar to drive one of these rickshaws. For a hundred rupees per day, he would rent one from a Sardar or a rickshaw owner from a Khatal, a garage and try to earn to survive and save a little to take back to his village at the end of his city stay.
From being the first Indian city to construct the underground metro rail to having electric-powered tramcars on tracks sharing the road with other traffic to operating launch boats across the River Ganges, Calcutta had the most varied mix of transportation compared to any other city in the country.
The culturally rich port city had been the capital of British India since 1772. Much of the development of transportation in the vibrant metropolis was due to the Brits. Since the East India Company was heavily into the opium trade with China, Calcutta already had a decent population of Chinese. Fleeing devastating famines and political upheaval in their land behind the great wall, they arrived in the city during the nineteenth and the first half of the twentieth century. These immigrants from cities like Canton, Shanghai and Hong Kong were the ones to introduce the hand-pulled rickshaw in the city streets.
In 2019, while most of the next-generation Chinese doing quite well in life had migrated to developed western countries, the hand-pulled rickshaw remained with the poor men of the city. It continued to be a source of meagre income for seasonal migrants such as Mustafa in the boiling metropolis.
Lying on a swinging hammock, tied between a streetlamp and his rickety rickshaw, Mustafa looked up at the smoggy night sky of the city with dimly visible dots of stars scattered here and there. Fixing his gaze on the pale moon playing hide and seek amidst the floating clouds, he wondered how his life had turned.
Back in his village, there was hardly any source of decent income. His wife looked after the household and stayed indoors. It was shameful in his village community for women to venture out of the house to earn. Three of his elder sons lived detached lives with their wives and children in the slums of other cities. Both of his youngest sons, whom he had at a very late age, were still in school. He could not send them to work, at least not before four more years. Next year his only daughter would be turning eighteen, and he had to get her married. The villagers gossiped that it was already too late to get her hitched. He had very little money saved and had to earn much more to get a decent groom by paying a proper dowry.
Since he did not own any land, his only source of income back in the village was to work as a hired farmhand for a few months; the rest of the year, he was pulling a rickshaw in Kolkata, slowly spoiling his health, and earning peanuts. “Why have you forsaken me, my Lord. Though I slog from dawn to dusk, I can never save enough. Show me a sign, guide me, tell me what to do? I am ready to work harder,” shouted Mustafa looking at the stars. “Keep your voice down, you old goat. Unlike you, some of us are trying to sleep here,” mumbled another rickshaw puller sleeping nearby.
In the dim silo rays of the streetlamps and the occasional bouncing beams of cars passing by, one could see a dozen rickshaw pullers lying beside their wooden chariots on a footpath under the porch of an old and neglected North Calcutta villa, which once dazzled with light and life. Like the mansion, they were also the last of their kind, surviving in a nostalgic city that would simply not allow their profession to die.
“Git oppp rickshaw wolaaa… gittt ooop… Tackkk miii hhhom, tuckkk mmmi hommm,” stuttered a nocturnal drunkard, wobbling and kicking Mustafa’s rickshaw. Unable to sleep anyhow, Mustafa thought, why not? “Don’t fall now. Get a hold of yourself. Sit here on the footpath. Give me a minute to prepare my rickshaw. I will take you home, old-timer,” said Mustafa and started untying his hammock and packing his stuff.
After much hassle, the old drunk finally mounted the shaky vehicle. “HHHooorrriii Ghoshhh Streettt…,” uttered the dazed geezer and sunk into the red rexine coir-filled seat of the wooden carriage. After nearly half an hour of confused trotting around the dimly lit streets and bylanes of North Kolkata, the grey boozer finally recognised his house. “Stoppp ssstop… rickshaw wolaaa… this is myyy hhhouseee…,” blabbered the intoxicated man and fell fast asleep on the rickshaw seat.
Trying to wake up the nuisance of a man, Mustafa realised that the drunk was carrying a bag full of cash. Suddenly the honest Musulman was torn between right and wrong. After a spell of internal contradiction that seemed to him like hours of torment, Mustafa reached and took out a fifty rupee note from the bag.
“It’s just a fifty rupee note in such a load of cash. I am sure the boozy would not notice. Forgive me, Lord, it’s not for me but the survival of my family,” thought Mustafa and woke up the old man, who counted and gave him three ten-rupee notes for the ride from the bag. After leaving the man, Mustafa took the fifty rupees note and vowed only to spend it for his daughter’s dowry and neatly hid it in the compartment under the red rexine coir-filled seat of his wooden chariot.
The drunkard started coming every night, and soon the poor rickshaw puller and the rich barfly with a bagful of cash became friends. The boozy owned a liquor shop just around the corner with a hidden and illegal bar counter at the back. He carried a portion of the day’s black money in cash back to his home every night. Chatting during their shaky rides through the dimly lit desolate streets at ghostly hours of the twilight, they came to know much about each other’s life.
While the drunk came to know and sympathise with Mustafa’s frail and helpless family in the village and their poverty-stricken life, the poor rickshaw puller got to know that the rich man had no one in his life. He had lost his wife and two sons in a road accident four years back and punished himself by drinking all the time for being behind the wheels of the car and the only survivor of the crash that dreadful night.
By the end of their ride every time, the old man would fall asleep in the rickshaw, and Mustafa would pull out a note or two from the drunk’s moneybag. Then he would shake and wake up the geezer, who counted with great concentration and gave him thirty rupees every night.
Time passed by, and Mustafa stole from the babu every twilight. Sometimes he pinched as little as a ten-rupee note and at times could not control himself and grabbed a couple of two thousand bucks. Despite making a lot of money, he was not at peace. Thieving was tearing him up from inside. While he had come to consider the lonely man as his friend and hated stealing from him, he could not stop himself from accumulating this God-sent wealth. He sent word back home that he would remain in the city for a few more months and would only return as a wealthy man.
By the end of a year, the little compartment under the red rexine coir seat of Mustafa’s rickshaw overflowed with cash. It was enough to pay for a rich man’s ransom. It was enough to pay a handsome dowry for his daughter, take care of his sons’ education for a few years, open a small shop back at home, and even buy a rickshaw of his own. Amidst all this joy of hope, Mustafa still could not find his peace of mind.
Then one Thursday evening, on the weekly day off at the wine shop, the babu came to the porch of the old and neglected North Calcutta villa where he usually met Mustafa. “Have any of you seen Mustafa,” he enquired with the others. “Today morning I saw him return his rickshaw to the Sardar of our Khatal. He left for his village saying that he would never return to the city to drive a rickshaw again,” said Sujan, one of the other rickshaw wallas. “What an ungrateful fellow. He should have at least said goodbye before going,” angrily uttered the babu and walked away from the old villa.
Later that night, the babu did not touch a drop of hooch. Lying on the sparkling seat of a brand new electric toto rickshaw parked in his garden, he looked up towards the smoggy night sky and angrily wondered, why had he wasted a lakh of rupees buying this vehicle? He had bought the e-rickshaw that morning and had come to call on Mustafa in the evening to give him the surprise.
What the babu did not remember was what had happened the previous night. He had drunk too much and was out cold from the moment he mounted the rickshaw. That night he had even forgotten to fill his bag with cash. On the road, they were stopped by a group of thugs. These men had been observing the old drunk for some time and planned to loot him that night. Not seeing any cash and finding him unconscious and useless, they lost their patience and were about to slit his throat to douse their frustration.
Back in the small and obscure village in Bihar, Mustafa lay in his bamboo cot looking up at the stars. They were much brighter and denser there compared to the smoggy city sky. He smiled, knowing that he had saved his friend’s life. Though he did not have any money, he had peace of mind.
Copyright © 2022 TRISHIKH DASGUPTA
This work of fiction, written by Trishikh Dasgupta is the author’s sole intellectual property. Some characters, incidents, places, and facts may be real while some fictitious. All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including printing, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author at trishikh@gmail.com or get in touch with Trishikh on the CONTACT page of this website.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Trishikh Dasgupta
Adventurer, philosopher, writer, painter, photographer, craftsman, innovator, or just a momentary speck in the universe flickering to leave behind a footprint on the sands of time... READ MORE
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
Great morning read. I like the story, Happy sunday.
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Thank you so much. So happy that you liked this story. Elevated to know that it made your morning.
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🌹🙏🌻
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I liked the story Trishikh. At the end he could manage to save his friend using the stolen cash. Nice narrative as usual.
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Thank you so much Sunith. I always look forward to your comments and like. So happy that you liked the story. Am glad that you always like my narratives.
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You are most welcome Trishikh
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Thank you so much Sunith for promoting my story in your blog. It’s such an honour for me.
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Rickshaw hikayesini duyduğuma çok sevindim. Güzel bir hikaye daha okudum.
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Thank you so much Alev for liking this story as well. So happy that you liked it.
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Yes, fate, we wonder at times why had we let ourselves slip and got engaged in particular shady deals, finding continuing excuses to wash away the stains from our blackened souls; when out of the sudden the unexpected arises, giving us at once the chance to relieve us from our burden.
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Yes very well said indeed. I could not have summed up the morale of the story so well. Fate, follies, triumphs, and so many other things makes us what we are.
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This exposition of rickshaws seemed longer to me than your customary introductions, and I appreciated it a great deal. I am always uncomfortable when I see one human in the position of physically transporting another. You do, however, realistically depict the dire economic situation that made the work essential.
I knew our hero couldn’t benefit from the stolen money—but I was glad you let him live with an eased conscience, rather than having him meet an untimely end.
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Dear Annie, first of I must thank you for this beautiful and thoughtful comment. Your words of appreciation always brings me great joy.
I too am very uncomfortable in seeing humans pull anything for that matter, however, in poor and developing nations, where poverty is rampant, human power is always a cheaper alternative to machinery.
I am glad that you liked the way I ended my story. I too am happy with the outcome, though many questions perhaps remain in the readers’ minds.
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Thank you so much Ned for promoting my story in your blog. Always appreciate your constant support.
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Lovely story.. thank you.. 💛🌻💛
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My pleasure to have been able to write it. It is I who must thank you for appreciating.
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Thank you so much for reblogging my story. Really treasure the support.
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Thank you for sharing this excellent story.
Not only does it highlight the origin of the rickshaws, but it also throws light on the inner battles, which a person undergoes, while doing something wrong. Our conscience always guides us to follow the right path.
Personally, I am never comfortable with the hand pulled rickshaws, where a human being has to pull another human, to earn some money.
Thank you for this engrossing read. Good day.
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Dear Chitrangada, your comment always gives me great joy. It is such a pleasure to hear from you. So gald that you liked the story. I used to get up on a hand-pulled rickshaw with my mother when I was small, as I for older, I stopped using them. I think today majority of it is replaced by cycle rickshaws and Toto e-rickshaws.
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People come and leave in life, sometimes they are willing to say what they did but sometimes no, but after spending so much time together and knowing about each other…it would have been nice if Mustafa met him and then left to his hometown…Also, sometimes people don’t wait or realise the real gifts that awaits them 😊…
It’s a major rescue and a good deed in the end …😌…it’s okay such things are not something you brag about and Mustafa left without saying that…which is a good side 😊 giving him satisfaction..
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You are right, at the end of the day, all of us are just bundles of contradictions,. Why we do, what we do, is a mystery many a times.
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If you see it that way yes
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Your intro really sustained my interest. It’s like the whole first paragraph is more of imagery than words. Thanks for sharing.
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Dear Eunice, so glad that you liked my intro. I strongly believe that a good short story should have 3 ingredients, the 1st has to be a good intro, the 2nd is vivid descriptions and the 3rd is an unexpected ending.
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Hello Trishikh,
I’m feeling too sleepy, and tired; gonna read your story in the morning.
Take care.
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Yes, Lokesh, certainly, do it in a fresh mind. I am sure that you would enjoy the story.
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A very satisfying ending!
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Thank you so much Patrick. Always look forward to and treasure your feedback and appreciation. It really gives me great joy to hear from you.
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Photos taken in India by the Canadian photographer/poet Patrick Jennings include many of modern rickshaws that are peddled like a bicycle rather than pulled. Still a hard way to make a meager living! To see the photos, Google
rickshaw site:https://pixtowords.com/
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Yes, you are absolutely right. Much of the hand-pulled rickshaws have been replaced by cycle rickshaws, now the latest trend is to fit a batery operated motor to these cycles rickshaws, which has made life even easier. Further there are even very basic and small golf-car like rickshaws available these days. Inspite to do much development, sadly the hand-pulled rickshaw has not yet been completely eliminated. It still continues to be a tiny source of income for some of the poorest migratory men in the city.
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Sweet story! Thanks Trishikh!
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Thank you so much Katelon. Your comment gives me great joy.
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“Rickshaw Wolaaa” has exposed “the humanity”.
1. Summary
We know, “drinking is injurious to health” but the Babu kept drinking because he has lost his wife and two children.
That damage can’t be recovered, or at least forgotten for a moment, without a sip of drink.
On the other hand, Mustafa kept stealing his friend’s illegal money,
because he has pressure from the society for his daughter’s marriage.
What these two humans have done, comes under nature and behaviour of humans. They’re not wrong.
At the end Mustafa saved Babu’s life, for which, in return, Babu bought an E- Rikshaw for him.
2. What I would like to change?
“If he would have tried to help Mustafa in the early days of their introduction to each other, Mustafa might not have stolen his money”.
It changes the end of this short story.
3. Your Storytelling Skills
3.1 Research
I regret every time I publish my writing that I haven’t researched the topic well, but your short stories are always backed up by full proof, facts and the truth.
3.2 History
You use beautiful — natural — as it’s “imagery” — to introduce and explore historical details of your stories, in front of your readers.
3. 2 Mechanism
When the readers get informed to the background of the story, they became curious to know — “how does it work?, What’s It’s functioning?”
Here you put details about the construction of “Jin-Riki-Shaw”.
How wheels were added to it?
How the Chinese bring it to the Kolkata city?
How it became part of the city’s transportation culture?
But these mechanism details come to alive when you use “dialogues” and sounds, such as —
• “Keep your voice down, you old goat. Unlike you, some of us are trying to sleep here,” mumbled another rickshaw puller sleeping nearby.
• “Git oppp rickshaw wolaaa… gittt ooop… Tackkk miii hhhom, tuckkk mmmi hommm,” stuttered a nocturnal drunkard, wobbling and kicking Mustafa’s rickshaw.
3. 4 Surprising End✨🤯
Every time I guess the end of the story, I got proved wrong.
It shows your control over your story.
Means, you do not repeat the same ending again and again.
You give proper direction to the story, which’s based on the need, occurence and possibility.
4. Rikshaw Wala’s in Varanasi
They’e good companion. Each of them is a unique storyteller, depending on their beliefs, experience and age.
I usually take rickshaw to attend my college classes.
In the evening I prefer to walk, because the city takes a beautiful shape, theme and design in the evening.
“Toto, E- Rikshaw & other, both Rishshaws and Rikshawalas have a well maintained hierarchy.”
They struggle to earn enough.
5. Thank you 😊
I’m trying to learn drawing illustrations to include them in my blog and social media posts.
Hope to publish new blog posts soon. I need to overcome overthinking and hesitance.
Thank you for the amazing story.
You succeeded to give this story a different yet amazing feel from the previous one, which’s quite challenging for a narrator.
Take care. Stay happy and thoughtful.😁💡🚀🌍🌄✍️
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Dear Lokesh,
As always I can’t thank you enough for your in-depth analysis of my story. Your appreciation not only gives me great joy, but the satisfaction of influencing the next generation. The learnings that you take from my stories is the greatest reward that I can have.
My dream is to see school kids and college youth read my stories, derive joy and moral lessons out of it, and ofcourse for the older generation to read and relate as well.
Your comment about the possibility of the Babu helping Mustafa at an earlier stage, gives me the lesson that we should not wait to do good. We should grab every opportunity and act immediately to do good to others.
What a exciting journey, writing these stories have been, many more mile to go and many more lines to write though, before I bite the dust. If God wills, it will be so.
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I follow your blog regularly, but dont know due to what never get an update of new posts
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Sometimes this happens. You can always click on the “Email me new posts” button beside my name on the “Manage Followed Sites” section of WordPress blog.
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You have got great stories here. I really like reading your blog. And thank you for visiting my blog! That’s so generous of you!
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I am thankful for your readership and friendship. Really glad that you found my site. I am myself overjoyed to visit your blog too. I always appreciate inspirational quotes.
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You put your heart and soul into this story, Trishikh! Your heart-felt sympathy for Mustafa and his plight comes through loud and clear. And we can’t help but feel empathetic to the drunk, who has lost his family. Lovely story. I enjoyed reading it very much.
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Dear Dawn, I am always eager to hear your comment on my story. They give me great joy. So glad that you were able to recognise the empathetic side of this story. Thank you so much good old friend.
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It’s always a pleasure to read your stories, Trishikh! I always learn something important from them.
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So nice of you to say that Dawn. I am glad to be able to share what I come to learn.
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It’s time to plan a book, Trishikh. Let’s continue our conversation on WhatsApp.
Thanks again for this story.
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Oh yes, a book will be a real dream come true. Let’s hope that this dream comes to reality some day. Ya let’s talk more on WhatsApp.
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Thank you so much for promoting this story of my in your blog. Always appreciate the kind gesture. Now so many more people will be able to read it.
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One more interesting story from the city of joy. I have seen those hand-pulled rickshaws in Kolkata. Totally inhuman for a civilised society. It’s good that it has been banned. Coming to story, I applaud the role of Mustafa, who under the circumstances, committed a wrong that was corrected by one good. It shows the natural human tendency. Thank you, Trishikh, for publishing this beautiful story that has a moral lesson in itself.
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Dear KK, I was looking forward to your comment, and now reading it in the morning really makes my day. Yes it is really inhuman to see these rickshaw wallas pull their rickshaws on the road. They have not yet been banned in Kolkata and still operate in certain areas, but very soon will be abolished, I am sure of that. So glad the you like the moral dilemma portrayed in the story. Thank you so much good old friend.
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You’re more than welcome, Trishikh. It’s always a pleasure to go through your work.
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The pleasure equally mine KK…
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Real life is such a sad story. And in another way, the lives around us… The colonies, the exploited, and unfortunately it continues.
A very good explanation.
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You are very right, unfortunately it all continues. Thank you so much for thinking so deeply about this story, liking it, and taking the time to comment. Really treasure your feedback.
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Beautiful story ! When did Mustafa saved his friend’s life ? Before stealing his money?I didn’t understand that part! Thanks for elaborate explanation of jinrikisha.👍
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Dear Priti, Mustafa had been saving all the stolen money in the compartment of his rickshaw. He saved his friends life on Wednesday night by paying that money to the thugs, who were about to slit the babus throat, finding no money with him on the Wednesday night, when he was extremely drunk and unconscious. Not knowing what had happened the previous night, the next day (Thursday) morning the Babu bought the e-rickshaw for Mustafa and went to meet him in the evening…
Thank you for always being so supportive of my writing and reading and liking and commenting on my stories.
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Actually I didn’t catch up that Mustafa gave the money to that thugs to save the babu.So I didn’t understand ☺️ I thought that night babu got unconscious and the thugs want to slit his throat but it was not clear to me that Mustafa saved him🙂🙂. Thanks for reply ☺️😃
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Dear Priti, I purposely did not write that Mustafa gave the money to the thugs. I left it to my readers imagination to derive it. I left clues here and there. I sometimes try this trick to get my readers more engrossed into the story. Sometimes it works, sometimes it does not. 🙂
So glad that you sought clarification. Your comment will help many others to better understand – how Mustafa saves the Babu.
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Thank you
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You are most welcome Priti.
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thank you very much
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It’s my pleasure Daniel. You are very welcome.
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🙂😊
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Merci beaucoup
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You are most welcome Daniel.
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thank you very much
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👏👏👏
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🙏 Thank you so much for applauding this little story of mine.
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A lovely story about the rickshaw. Thank you 😊
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You are most welcome. So happy that you liked my story. Appreciation really makes my day.
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My pleasure, Trishikh. I will look at other stories, too 😊🙏
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Thank you so much. I look forward to you reading more of my stories, whenever you feel like, I am sure that you would love many of them.
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😊🙏
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What a wonderful story, Trishikh! Friendship and peace of mind, all knitted well.
One can at times feel the pulse of the story and while I was attuned to it, I marvel at how well you crafted the ending!
At times, it’s not about what one knows but how well one tells/narrates it.
The featured image is apt for the story and I appreciated the researched work. The origin of Kago and it’s connection to the story is very neatly linked.
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Dear Harshi, reading your comment at the start of the day gives me great joy. I am really indebted to you for this overwhelming appreciation. So glad that you like the message of friendship & peace of mind, pulse, ending, narration, imagery, and research.
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Bonjour , bon mercredi TRISHIKH
Ce matin
La fraîcheur du matin
Le chant des oiseaux
Le soleil qui se lève
Les rayons passent à travers les rideaux
Je viens te dire bonne journée
Attention aux grosses chaleurs restons au frais
Bisous Bernard
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Thank you Bernard.
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Wonderful read and well written.
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Thank you so much Kall. Appreciation works as miracle for my writing engine. Nice to hear from you after a long time.
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What a great ending to an interesting and moving story, Trishikh! I actually thought that the babu pretended to sleep for Mustafa to be able to take some extra money, haha, who knows.
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Thank you for your lovely comment Stella. So happy that you find the story interesting and moving. The possibility of the Babu pretending to sleep for Mustafa to take the money, is a totally new angle to my story, that I did not think of. Thank you so much for sharing this thought. Have a great day.
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Thank you for this inspiring story. 🙏🏻 💙
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You are most welcome Filipa. My pleasure to have been able to share the story. So happy that you find it inspiring.
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Want a story on suburbun area
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Well, I have already written a couple of story on suburban areas in my blog:
1.) Duburee: https://storynookonline.com/2021/09/18/duburee/
2.) Hucchuman And His Humber: https://storynookonline.com/2021/09/04/hucchuman-and-his-humber/
3.) The Gatekeeper: https://storynookonline.com/2021/08/15/the-gatekeeper/
4.) Haunting Howls of Hanabari: https://storynookonline.com/2020/11/01/haunting-howls-of-hanabari/
All of the above stories have a suburban flavour. I am sure that you will enjoy them. Some of these you might have already read.
I will certainly try and write more of suburban stories in the suture.
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Nice morning read 😄
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Thank you so much. Appreciation really makes my day.
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My pleasure 😄 lol glad to know XD
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The pleasure is equally mine.
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I read until the hero of the story had a full seat of money rickshaws, but his stupid conscience did not give him peace … interesting, colorful and deeply meaningful story, I will read after returning home, greetings from South Carolina
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Dear Alicia, great to know that you are in South Carolina. I have visited the place many times, especially Charleston. it’s a beautiful city.
So glad that you liked my story. Do complete reading it at your convenience. I always treasure out interactions.
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Beautifully written, interesting, and heartwarming story, Trishikh! It held my attention from first to last! ❤
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Thank you so much Cheryl. Appreciation really works like miracle for my writing engine. So glad that you found my story interesting, heartwarming, and gripping. Your comment really makes my day.
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this time my dear for me too strong jumps in actions, 😖🥲and even too much missing the description of events between actions, if the rickshaw driver bought this rickshaw for a rich man for a thousand rupees, and lay on his bed without money, what he did with the rest, because he already had more? I suspect that he left the rickshaw under the seat, and who was that Sardar in India where he had left her? sorry look how your stories intrigue me. And the ending does not give me peace like the stolen money from this rickshaw driver😂😄
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Bonjour
Comme certains d’entre vous l’ont vu sur mon dernier écris
Je mets mon blog en pause
Cela ne signifie pas ne plus écrire
Mais un bon moments de repos ne fais pas de mal à personne
Je passerai de temps en temps lire ceux qui voudront me laisser quelque chose
En attendant je te souhaite tout le bonheur possible , de bonnes vacances , santé
Ben oui parfois il faut savoir un peu arrêter
J’ai vécu ici des rencontres exceptionnelles
J’en sors bouleverser
Bise avec toute mon amitié
Bernard
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Thank you so much Bernard. I wish you all the best. I am sure you will get back to blogging once again.
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A well-told story, Trishikh.
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Thank you so much Mitch. I always tresure appreciation. It really works like wonder for my writing engine.
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Reblogged this on Alienigena.
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Thank you so much for liking and promoting my story in your blog. Really appreciate your kind gesture.
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Reblogged this on ali seda.
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Thank you so much for promoting my story in your blog.
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Reblogged this on andrea zarra mendieta.
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Thank you so much Andrea for showcasing my story in your blog. Really appreciate your kind gesture.
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this time my dear for me too strong jumps in actions, 😩🥲and even too much missing the description of events between actions, if the rickshaw driver bought this rickshaw for a rich man for a thousand rupees, and lay on his bed without money, what he did with the rest, because he already had more? I suspect that he left the rickshaw under the seat, and who was that Sardar in India where he had left her? sorry look how your stories intrigue me. And the ending does not give me peace like the stolen money from this rickshaw driver😂😹
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Dear Alic, you got the story a bit wrong. Sometimes it happens, as you read with the Google translator.
To clear the confusion – the rish man bought the e-rickshaw to gift to the rickshaw walla. The previous night the rickshaw walla had paid the criminals to save the rich man’s life, however, he could not confront the rich man with this fact, as then he would have to confess that he had been stealing money from him.
The rickshaw walla’s conscious was clear though, as he finally used the money for the good of the richman, to whom it belonged.
Many more hidden angles. I am always so happy to read your comment. They mean a lot to me, as you take the extra effort to translate and read my stories.
Hope you had a great American Trip. Take care have a great day.
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I have answered this comment in a seperate thread, however, let me repeat the answer here once again for the convenience of any reader, who might be following it. 🙂
Dear Alic, you got the story a bit wrong. Sometimes it happens, as you read with the Google translator.
To clear the confusion – the rish man bought the e-rickshaw to gift to the rickshaw walla. The previous night the rickshaw walla had paid the criminals to save the rich man’s life, however, he could not confront the rich man with this fact, as then he would have to confess that he had been stealing money from him.
The rickshaw walla’s conscious was clear though, as he finally used the money for the good of the richman, to whom it belonged.
Many more hidden angles. I am always so happy to read your comment. They mean a lot to me, as you take the extra effort to translate and read my stories.
Hope you had a great American Trip. Take care have a great day.
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ok there is a bit of air suspension, someone unfamiliar with indigenous Indian nomenclature has just such problems as me. In the movie you see the action and your imagination works better. The book must give a detailed description. On top of that, of course, there is an inaccurate Google translation, but I like it as usual😂😹 my journey is still going home, I only come back to Germany on August 1 and then I am still in Poland, after the bans it may be possible to ride only at the end, best regards
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Dear Alic, I am so glad to hear that you are still travelling. I truly believe there can be nothing better than travelling. Books are just an alternate to travelling. I am so happy for you. Have a safe journey and return back to Germany rejuvenated in August.
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Your short stories are always up to the task of bringing me joy. You have a great fantasy and write well. Maybe you should consider publishing them.
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Your beautiful words of appreciation brings so much joy to me. Yes, I do want to publish someday, I am hopeful that it will happen, though I have not worked towards it till now.
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Interesting narrative
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Thank you so much Ananda. So glad that you liked this little story of mine.
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It reflects a moment of nostalgia bringing back childhood memories of Calcutta indelible through the passage of time. Well written.. Thanks
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Thank you so much Michael. I really appreciate and treasure your comment. Yes the Rickshaw holds a strong nostalgic bond to anyone who has stayed in Kolkata prior the 1990s.
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Beautiful and absorbing write.
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Thank you so much Anita. Do gald that you find my story beautiful and absorbing. Appreciation works as a miracle for my writing engine.
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My pleasure always, Trishikh. I truly appreciate your work.
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What an honour me. I am deeply humbled.
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Its interesting how you have referenced British reinforced their master-slave power using a man to pull another human…………
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Throughout the human history the powerful have always thought of creative ways to make the lesser fortunate feel low and worthless. Indians have done it Indians, Kings have done it to peasants, the rice have done it to the poor, and this goes on even today. Thank you for reading, liking and commenting on my story.
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Couldn’t agree more.. Every generation every century there were ppl to dominate and there will be beyond the centuries..
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Yes, and then there are the heroes too…
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So happy to see my story showcased in your website. Always treasure the support. Now so many more people would be able to read my story.
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Great story.. Thanks for sharing trishikh
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Dear Akshita, so glad that you liked this story of mine as well. Glad to have been able to share it. Look forward to you reading more of my work whenever you feel like.
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My pleasure✨ absolutely I’ll love to read your content more.
Keep sharing and smiling😊
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The pleasure is equally mine. 🙂
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That’s very good
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Thank you Steve. It gives me great joy to know that you liked my story.
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I got lost in the last but going through the comments I could connect all the dots. Very nice.
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Am glad that you got it. Yes few have had a bit confusion with this story at the end, but then as you say, if one reads it minutely with a bit of concentration I think it has clarity.. so nice to hear your words after a long time.
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