The day dawned like any other. Usha Nani took her basket of guavas and sat on her spot on Marve Road at 8 am. Since this was opposite a school, she had good traffic on all working days. Usually, she sold out her basket by late evening.

As soon as she sat at her spot, the school kids started trailing in. Many of them liked to have a guava as a snack before starting their day while some others popped one into their school bags to consume during lunch break. Usha Nani loved the morning rush. The chants of “Usha Nani, one for me!”, “Usha Nani, put spice on mine…”, “Usha Nani, this…”, “Usha Nani, that…” echoed all around her. She had a smile for each child.

Today, just after the school bell rang, a man walked up to her. “How many guavas do you have?” He asked. Usha Nani looked at him closely. She hadn’t seen him before.

“Maybe, about four dozen,” she said.

“How much for them all?”

“250 rupees,” she said.

The man took out two hundred and fifty rupees from his pocket and gave it to her. Usha Nani was shocked. Generally, people bought one or two. She didn’t even have a bag to put in four dozen guavas.

“Do you have a bag?” She asked.

“For what?”

“For the guavas,” she said.

“It’s okay. Keep them and keep the money. Take rest today. Go back home. People, as old as you, shouldn’t work,” he said. Usha Nani was shocked. Even before she could react, he sat down beside her and hugged her. He hissed into her ear softly, “Will you not bless me?”

“My blessings are with you, young man. God will always be with kind people like you,” she said. “But I cannot accept this money if you do not buy the guavas. I do not grudge my work. I enjoy it. It is blessing to have so many people treat a lonely old lady, like me, as their ‘Nani’… You need to take the guavas with you.”

He agreed and she took the basket to his motorbike and filled the luggage compartment with the guavas. A few still remained. She put them into a bag that he had with him. After that, she noticed that there was another man, standing near the motorbike, who was photographing her.

“Why are you taking my picture?” She asked him.

“You look pretty,” he said and gave her a big smile. When he noticed she wasn’t amused, he said, “I am a photographer.” Usha Nani did not like it but she let it go.

After a few days, when Usha Nani was seated at her spot, a boy came to her. “Usha Nani, you are famous. Do you know you are all over facebook?”

“What? I am in a book?”

“No. Facebook. It is like TV. See …” He said and took out his phone. He fiddled with it and then gave it to her. It was a video of the man who had bought the entire basket of guavas from her. He was talking about helping the old and the poor. Then, she came on the video. The video started with him asking about the guavas and giving her money and ended with her blessing him. It did not show him taking the guavas. It looked as if she had just taken the money.

“What? Is it over?”

“Yes.”

“But he took my guavas too …”

“It looks like he didn’t, in the video,” the boy said.

“How did you see this video?”

“Not just me. Thousands of people have shared it and lakhs of people have seen it.”

Usha Nani’s mouth opened wide in shock. “That is shameful. They all must be thinking I’m a beggar.”

The boy bought his guavas and left. Usha Nani knew no peace. She had to restore her pride and dignity. That evening, she took her hard-earned and wisely-saved money of five thousand rupees—that was kept for emergencies—and told herself this was an emergency worse than death.

She went to a mobile store and bought a phone—one that had a blank glass on it with no buttons—and pestered the shopkeeper to teach her how to use it. She will wait for that man. He is bound to come again. This time, she will take his video—a video of his confession—and the school kids will help her put it out to the world. She will teach him a lesson: one man’s fame cannot be through an another's shame.