Once upon a time, there was a cap seller. Not a stranger, but someone we all already knew. Remember the cap seller from childhood stories, the one who cleverly threw his own cap down and tricked the monkeys into returning all the stolen ones? Yes, that one. This was his grandson.
The grandson carried on the family trade, selling traditional caps and earning an honest living. He walked from village to village, his own and the nearby ones, calling out to customers just like his grandfather had. Old business, old customers, a simple rhythm of life. Things were going fine.
It was peak summer. One afternoon, after walking since morning and selling caps, he felt drained. The sun was overhead and relentless. Like his grandfather, he rested under the same old tree. The tree, too, had aged gracefully. For three generations, it had offered its cool shade to cap seller’s family, and for three generations, monkeys had played on its branches.
Hunger gnawed at him and exhaustion weighed heavy on his eyelids. He decided to eat a little and rest there. He opened his food bundle and dug into fresh bhakri with spicy thecha. After just a couple of bites, his hand instinctively slipped into his pocket and he pulled out his phone. Facebook opened, and there it was, a post from a friend in the village. A brand-new, gleaming bike. Price eighty thousand rupees.
Between scrolling through photos of the bike and the friend’s happy family, the meal ended without him even tasting it properly. A thought, one that had never crossed his mind before, suddenly appeared. I ‘need’ a bike too. He did not walk very long distances every day, but the walking was ‘exhausting'(his mind was telling him). That single thought quietly spread through his imagination. He began picturing himself riding through the village on a bike, just like his friend, stylish and admired. As he drifted into that pleasant fantasy, the number eighty thousand jolted him awake.
Now his mind was restless. He started calculating. Fifty thousand was locked in a fixed deposit for his child’s college fees, due in two years. Maybe he could take out twenty-five thousand as a down payment. But what about the remaining fifty-five? The numbers refused to settle. As the saying goes, money does not appear just because you wish for it. Whenever such uneasiness crept in, he had a simple escape. He unlocked his phone again and went back to Facebook.
Lost in calculations and dreams, he forgot the world around him. One monkey quietly climbed down and noticed him staring at bike photos, completely absorbed. The monkeys had learned by now that once humans disappeared into those shiny little screens, they lost all awareness. Soon, more monkeys climbed down and, one by one, began stealing his caps.
The cap seller opened Facebook again, uneasily. And then came the miracle. The very first post showed EMI offers for bikes. Pay a little extra and spread the cost over five years. In his imagination, the bike would ‘transform’ his life over those five years. The money problem felt solved. The dream became brighter. Wanting to share his happiness, he looked up and saw the monkeys running off with his caps.
He jumped up and chased them, but it was too late. Almost all the caps were gone.
Angry, he started throwing stones. But every time he picked one up, a notification buzzed on his phone and he stopped. The monkeys got bored. They began throwing the stones back at him and waited patiently for the next one.
He tried to remember what his grandfather had done in a similar situation. These days, remembering even simple things took effort. After all, once the phone arrived, there was no need to remember anything. After a few minutes, he remembered his grandfather’s trick. Just as he was about to throw his own cap on the ground, another notification popped up. A better EMI offer. No down payment required. He scrolled further. More offers. Better bikes than his friend’s. His thoughts now revolved entirely around this new information. Lost in the screen, he forgot both the monkeys and the caps and began walking home.
The monkeys were shocked and disappointed. He was not even trying to get his caps back. After a few steps, he heard a voice from behind.
“Hey brother, wait a moment.”
The leader of the monkeys stood there, holding all the caps.
“I have come to return these,” he said.
The cap seller was stunned. Mischievous monkeys, how did they suddenly grow a conscience? Curious, he asked, “Why did you bring them back on your own? I was going to come tomorrow anyway.”
The monkey replied, “There is no joy left in this game anymore.”
The cap seller frowned. “Why?”
The monkey spoke thoughtfully. “We troubled you to get your attention. Now your attention never leaves that device in your hand. We troubled you because we were a little jealous too. In evolution, you gained so much, especially wisdom and the ability to think independently. That is what made you different from us. But in the last few decades, ever since this device entered your lives, that difference has started shrinking. We imitate without thinking. Now you do the same, chasing whatever looks attractive on that screen without considering your needs, situation, or priorities. You have become like us. So there is no fun left. We will look for a more ‘advanced creature’ to bother.”
The cap seller stood frozen for a moment. But these days, even moments of shock did not last long.
The monkey continued, “And here, take your caps. They might help a little with the money arrangements for that ‘brilliant’ bike idea of yours.”
With a heart full of joy, imagining all the monkeys had ‘liked’ his bike idea and giving it a big ‘thumbs up’ (👍🏻), the cap seller cheerfully walked home.
The relationship between a man and a screen has affected the relationship of man with everything else and this has taken away lot of essence out of life . My mom said something today , “ how simple activities of craftsmen in the local bazars used to make us so happy and excited as kids and unfortunately such kind of joyful experiences have literally disappeared these days .”
I cannot agree more. Now I have problem calling these joys as ‘small joys’. Actually speaking, these have been the moments which made living worth while. But sadly we are losing it. But let’s keep doing our best. Thanks for the comment and my regards to aunty.