Each day after he finishes school, Pradeep Saxena goes straight home where he gives his mother a quick kiss on her cheek, pats his dog Lucy and then runs upstairs to begin his homework.

His sister Rita, always complained to their mother that Pradeep never came to say hi to her. “Ma!” she would say, “it’s as if I don’t exist in this world.”

Pradeep’s mother would assure Rita that she did indeed exist, and that Pradeep was on a mission when he got home. To that point, their mother would take Rita by the hand and walk her reluctantly into Pradeep’s room, where they found him hard at work tackling a maths problem. She would clear her throat pretentiously, causing Pradeep to roll his eyes and turn to face them.

“Ma!” he would say, “I have to finish my work before I can leave to go down to the station and every second counts.”

“You have plenty of time,” his mother would reassure him, “but you must say hello to your sister when you get home,” and then to see if it worked she added, “after all, once you leave the house Rita comes to me several times during the day asking if you’re going to be home soon.”

“No, I don’t!” interrupted Rita, “I don’t miss him. I wish me would leave home for good!” Of course, she didn’t mean that or at least their mother hoped she didn’t mean that. But to calm the raging waters, Pradeep who was all of 10 recognised the unmistakeable tsunami coming his way, forced a smile and said, “hello Rita, I hope you had a nice day.”

But before Rita had a chance to say, “I did until you came home,” Pradeep interrupted her thought pattern by adding quickly, “see there I’ve done it, Ma. Can I now go back to my studies?”

“Why did you tell him that I missed him Ma, when you know that’s not true?” asked Rita who was being reluctantly dragged from her brother’s room, before she could do any sustained damage. Pradeep rolled his eyes and went back to his maths problem. He could still hear his sister proclaiming her innocence all the way down the hall.

“I wish she would go away for good,” Pradeep said under his breath as his Alsatian Lucy came into his room. Lucy was the only welcome visitor in Pradeep’s room. She was the only one who came in recognising Pradeep as being superior in intellect and wagged her tail as a show of genuine love.

Pradeep’s parents were very patient with their ten year old son, who they discovered as having a focus like no one else. When he was in school Pradeep always received the highest of marks because he was always attentive and never created any problems for his teachers. When he was home, he knew he had certain things he needed to do. He knew he could not get from step A to step C without first navigating step B. Rita on the other hand, tried to see how many steps she could circumnavigate before being caught and then blaming her brother for her misfortune.

Pradeep ran home the half a mile from school with his book bag urging him on by thumping his back as he ran. He would rush indoors, drink his milk fast, kiss his mother on the cheek, say no thank you to the samosa she had got from the local market and then went upstairs to finish his homework. And all this because he needed to be on the southbound platform of the local railway station and be seated next to where the man in his official uniform would stand with the large ring in his hand. Those to Pradeep were steps A through F to be taken in order.

Right on cue, Pradeep ran downstairs half an hour later to seek his mother’s permission even though it had never been withdrawn, and then with the question for which he had the preprogramed answer ready, he was out the door to the amazement of Lucy. She would raise her head slightly off the kitchen floor and then lay it back down with a snort which caused some of the lesser known creatures who had made it indoors, to panic believing they had just felt the full force of the wrath of God and were about to be slammed against the concrete walls of the kitchen.

Pradeep, as expected by all both along the way and at the station, made his daily appearance and plonked himself down on one of the slatted wooden benches on the southbound platform waiting breathlessly for the whistle of the steam train. In all the years Pradeep made his appearance at the station, he never ceased to be amazed by the dexterity and skill displayed by both the man on the platform and the engine driver, who had never missed the exchange of the giant key ring. He had been there mere minutes before he heard the warning whistle from the train. He leaned forward on the bench to try and catch the first glimpse of the train which would be travelling at over 30 miles an hour. It was at the sound of that whistle that the most important man of the hour dressed in his dirty brown, highly stained uniform, which consisted of a shirt that had seen better days ten years ago and matching dhoti, walk forward to the invisible line on the platform close the railway tracks and stand there in anticipation. And then the exercise unfolded in perfect harmony.

As the train made its dramatic appearance and on the side of the carriages Pradeep could read the large black letters, ‘Kalka Mail Delhi Calcutta,’ the ring was thrown by the engineer at the far end of the platform and picked up by a local youth who dreamed of being the man of the hour one day. The man of the hour took two steps closer to the tracks and in one seamless manoeuvre, held up the giant ring with a single key on it and the engine driver, who was God to Pradeep, grasped the rung on the side of the engine with his left hand and reached down with his right arm bent scooped up the ring to the applause that was missing on the southbound platform of Ring Road Jct. Pradeep imagined the engine driver noticed him each time he came through and in his mind knew that he was becoming a celebrity. He imagined the driver telling his assistant, “there’s that wonderful boy again. I bet you he will grow up to be a celebrity one day.”

Once the ballet was over, Pradeep walked back home slowly. There was no need to run, supper wasn’t for another few hours and the less time he spent there in the possible company of his sister, the better. He walked looking rather dejectedly through the front door where Lucy made no move to the delight of the lesser known creatures that inhabited the rugs and cement floor. His mother smiled and asked, “would you like a cup of tea and a samosa?”

“Yes please mummy,” he replied, “did Rita have hers?”

“Yes, she has,” replied his mother.

“Is she in the house?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, “Rita is over at Sheela’s”

Oh good! thought Pradeep as he grabbed his samosa and his mother walked behind him with cups of tea for both Pradeep and herself placing them on a table on the veranda. They both sat down. His mother asked, “tell me all about today,” which Pradeep gladly did after all, until his father came home, he was the man of the house.