“I have to become a Bolero Class, Bhaiya! Look… you studied Management and moved into the Corporate Class. But as for me, I have no choice… I have to go into the Bolero Class…”Bolero Class! When Pikku first mentioned this term, I didn’t quite grasp its meaning. Living away from your village or hometown can make the local language feel alien. That year, during my visit to my native place, Pikku shared that he was soon opening a new restaurant on the main road of Rajabazaar. A new locality with affluent people had come up in the area. The inauguration of the shop was set for Dhanteras. I was slurping down a bowl of Rasmalai when he mentioned Bolero Class. I stopped and had a blank expression on my face. He could understand the predicament in my eyes. “Why are you surprised? It’s the vehicle of choice for every leader… all… big or small. If you were here, you’d understand the sense of power that comes with it when you drive through the streets of Sitapuri and Muzaffarpur in one of these vehicles with the ruling party’s flag fluttering proudly on the bonnet. And if you’re lucky, you might even spot a plate in front, boldly displaying ‘Vidhayak’, with a red beacon perched on top. It’s a King’s Chariot, you know… Kings! The roads may be dusty and chaotic, but once you roll up the windows, you’re in a world of your own. Even on these rough, uneven roads, the vehicle glides effortlessly, as if skimming on ghee. And then, of course, there might be a few people clinging to the sides… or perhaps even some women party workers inside.” He leaned in and whispered the last part into my ear, before bursting into laughter. Pikku was the younger brother of my school friend, Ramendra. However, he wasn’t much younger… just a year junior at Mathura Higher Secondary School, Ring Bandh. We were all part of the same group. After passing his inter-examination, Ramendra joined the navy, and I haven’t seen him in years. Whenever I visit home for vacations, it’s Pikku whom I meet. I pursued a management course through correspondence from a private college before joining a private company in Delhi. Over the past six years, I’ve switched many companies but what was constant was my stay in Delhi. Meanwhile, Pikku stayed in Sitapuri. After earning his BA degree, he explored various odd jobs. Initially, Pikku started an agency for a Chit-Fund company with a few friends. I was told that he managed the company quite well until it declared bankruptcy and shut down. Many people lost their money. His father sold some of his farmland to repay those people. However, he also informed his son that he shouldn’t expect any further help, as almost everything had been used to settle the Chit-Fund debts. This served as a kind of punishment. I heard that Pikku reassured his father not to worry and promised to repay him soon with interest before disappearing from his sight. After that, many stories began to circulate, but Pikku was rarely seen. It was said that occasionally, when Vidhayak Ajayab Singh, the legislator of that area, drove along the main road in his Bolero, Pikku’s face could be seen through the glass, seated in the back. By the time the Vidhan Sabha elections approached, everything became clear. When Ajayab Singh secured his second consecutive victory, his celebratory convoy made its way through the town’s main road. This time, Pikku was no longer in the background but he was seen hanging out of a Bolero right behind Vidhayakji’s vehicle, enthusiastically waving at the crowd and greeting people. People said that Pikku was one of the key figures behind Ajayab Singh’s victory. “I managed the votes of five villages,” he had personally told me. It was also said that after winning the election, Vidhayakji rewarded him with a handsome amount for his loyalty. The restaurant was a prasad from that election. When Ajayab Singh arrived to inaugurate Pikku’s restaurant, there was no doubt left about how close he was to Vidhayakji. Whether it was a mere coincidence or the good fortune of Vidhayakji’s lucky hands that cut the ribbon, the restaurant fared far better than Pikku’s previous ventures. Within days, business picked up. Rather, it was thriving. Now, whenever people talk about Pikku, they always mention how well his restaurant had taken off. Alongside this, many other rumours circulated. These days, during my visits home, I rarely get a chance to meet Pikku. Every time I plan to visit him or drop by his restaurant, something else would come up. Still, I kept hearing plenty of stories about him. I also learnt that Pikku had set up private cabins inside his restaurant… just like in the old days. These cabins became a rare sanctuary for college students seeking solitude amid the hustle and bustle of the town. And for offering this safe haven, he generously charged them over and above the cost of food. Someone once mentioned that after the restaurant closed for the evening and the shutters came down, it transformed into a meeting hub for local netas. An employee at the Saki Wine Shop confided in me that four or five bottles were delivered to Pikku’s restaurant every night. The more people talked about it, the more rumours spread. Anyway, his house now beamed with prosperity. After years, his ancestral home was renovated and painted. When his sister got married, almost a thousand people enjoyed the sumptuous food. The entire colony was lit up, and music blared everywhere. The last time I met him, he told me, “I have booked a new Bolero for Dhanteras, Bhaiya!”As Dhanteras approached, I heard some interesting news. The news began to stir up its own set of gossip. The local daily newspaper, Amrit Khabar, provided detailed coverage of this rumour. The recently transferred Superintendent of Police, Mayank Khare, had vowed to eradicate all criminal activities in the town. In a late-night operation, he raided Pikku’s Restaurant. Reports indicated that six trafficked girls from Nepal were rescued from the upper rooms of the restaurant. Sources even claimed that several prominent individuals were also arrested in connection with this case. The police claimed that they had brought an end to a human trafficking racket which was operating for several years. Many national leaders were also involved in this, as per reports. The restaurant owner, Pankaj, was taken into police custody. Numerous other stories and rumours continued to circulate. The Bolero never arrived, but perhaps his dream of joining the Bolero Class was fulfilled in a way. At the very least, alongside the names of prominent leaders who owned Bolero vehicles, his name also made it to the news headlines. Well, amidst the Diwali and Chhath festivities, this thought suddenly crossed my mind, bringing about a smile.Excerpted with permission from ‘Bolero Class’ in Kissagram: A Novella and Other Stories, Prabhat Ranjan, translated from the Hindi by Satyadeep Chhetri, Bee Books.