The Kabadi Man Who Bought Yesterday — A Ponmanipudi Story

🌿THE MAN WHO BOUGHT YESTERDAY

Ravivarma came to Ponmanipudi every morning on the old Yezdi.

The Yezdi coughed, sputtered before starting, protested loudly, and then somehow agreed to move — much like Ravivarma himself.

“Kabadiii… kabadiii…old articles....we buy annaa,” his voice would float through the lanes, half song, half announcement, enticing customers..

Old buckets. Broken chairs. Rusty vessels.

Clocks that had forgotten time.

Radios that remembered too much...

Ravivarma collected them all like precious possessions..

People said he was clever.

“He buys junk and sells gold,” they whispered.

Ravivarma just smiled.

“Everything has value,” he’d say.

“Only people decide if it is useless.”

That morning, as Ravivarma tied a crooked fan to the back of his bike, Loknath, the village policeman, stopped him.

“Ravi,” Loknath said, adjusting his belt,“how much profit today?”

Ravivarma shrugged. “Enough for today.”

Loknath frowned. “You never think of tomorrow?”

Ravivarma laughed.

“Tomorrow will come whether I think or not.”

Loknath shook his head.

“You people don’t plan. That’s why you remain small.”

Ravivarma tightened the rope carefully.

“Sir,” he said gently,

“I don’t remain small. I remain light.”

As they walked together for a few steps, Loknath kicked an old wooden stool lying by the road.

“See this,” he said. ..“Useless.”

Ravivarma bent immediately. He touched the wood.

Ran his fingers along a crack..."Rosewood,” he said. “Hand-cut joints. Old house.”

Loknath raised an eyebrow...“Still useless.”

Ravivarma smiled.

“To you,” he said..."To me, it’s already breathing again.”

He loaded it on to his bike.

By noon, Ravivarma sat under the banyan tree, eating curd rice flavoured with rock salt, calmly, serenely.

Loknath passed again..."Why are you not in hurry?” he asked.

Ravivarma looked around placidly..

“Where should I hurry to, sir?”

“Success,” Loknath replied promptly.

Ravivarma nodded.

“I reached there already.”

Loknath laughed loudly..“You’re joking.”

Ravivarma pointed to the sky.

The shade. The food. The quiet.

“I am full now,” he said.

“What more success should I chase?”

Loknath walked away, unconvinced, muttering in disbelief...

That evening, Loknath found Ravivarma again — this time outside a rich man’s house.

The rich man was arguing.

“Why you offering so little? This mirror is antique!...gold, man, gold”

Ravivarma looked at it calmly.

“Sir,” he said, “the mirror is old. But the memory attached to it is yours. I can’t buy that.”

The rich man fell silent.

Ravivarma paid what he felt was right and left.

Loknath watched carefully.

Later that night, at Appuswamy’s tea stall, Loknath sat quietly.

Ravivarma passed by, bike loaded, whistling.

“Ravi,” Loknath called out.

“Yes, sir?”

Loknath hesitated.

“You really believe everything has value?”

Ravivarma thought for a moment.

“No,” he said honestly.

“I believe everything had value once. And many things still do — if someone is willing to see.”

Loknath nodded slowly.

“And people?” he asked.

Ravivarma smiled — softer now.

“People too,” he said.

“But most people throw away their present…

while collecting only past regrets and future worries.”

Loknath didn’t reply.

As Ravivarma rode away, his bike rattling like scattered thoughts, Loknath stood still.

For the first time that day,

he realised something uncomfortable.

Ravivarma carried the village’s past on his Yezdi —but lived completely in the present.

And Loknath, who guarded law and order, was carrying tomorrow’s anxiety everywhere…

without knowing its weight.

That night, Dr. Chari watched Ravivarma pass by Sriranga Vihara.

The bike sputtered. Recovered...Moved on.

Chari smiled faintly.

Some people don’t collect objects.

They collect moments, repair them quietly,

and sell them back to life —at the right price.

And some people, without knowing it, teach everyone else, how to live today....