i'll send money soon. his mother nods, as hasari erupts in a small cough which, by habit, he suppresses. his mother crushes aloka to her.
scared? no -- why? this is very exciting. as soon as we get to our friend's house, everything will be fine. but, despite hasari's charade of confidence, they are overwhelmed by the size of the station and the desperate energy of the humanity around them. as they press on, a small beggar woman huddled on the platform turns her eyes eerily on manooj.  as a deformed hand stretches into the frame. aloka senses someone: a beggar, face half-hidden and eaten away by leprosy. this terrifying image presses the boys tightly to their mother and moves hasari to encircle armita with one hand and attempt to wrap the other three inside the embrace of his other hand. it does not seem possible that he can protect all of them against the predatory eyes watching them. he moves them quickly to a wall.
wait right here. don't move.
please, can you direct me to my friend at this address? we are to stay with him. the vendor gives the address a look, shows it to the vendor next to him. both look at hasari.
but that's not possible.
manooj, go and get some fruit. come straight back. delighted with his task, manooj sets off, his eyes on the marquee of the theater with its huge cardboard cutout of kumar kapur, starring in hot gun. hasari calls out to him to watch where he's going; the mere crossing of the street is a potential parental nightmare. a hand ruffles manooj's head and a tall man with dark eyes and a sweet smile comes at the boy's anxious parents.
yes, how did you know?
three years without rain. nothing came out of the earth but debts.
i have only seventy-five, but as soon as i have work.
my name is pal, hasari. mr. gangooly rented this space to --
gangooly. you must be his cousin, mr. moti.
but this is true. we paid him a deposit of fifty --
don't let it frighten you. you have to be brave. i know we'll find work today. fear and doubt fill manooj's eyes. he nods.
what man? why -- did you ask him for money?
where is he? shambu looks, but the car's gone.
don't do that. we're not beggars. shambu is devastated. out of his own desperation, hasari feels he's been a little rough on the boy. he holds him close.
go back to the river. wait for me by the tree. don't go anywhere. do you understand? aloka, the boys nod. we watch them as hasari heads off, quickly becoming a small figure disappearing into the sea.
yes, yes of course. but i'm three days without work. i'll take anything. the clerk digs in his pocket, presses two rupees on hasari.
no, i don't want you to give me -- the next man in line forcibly moves hasari out of the way.
my wife, my children.  hasari rushes on. suddenly we -- cut to:
i told you to remain where i left you! i told you to stay there!
i would be proud if you would share our food with us. everyone looks at the food; there is no disguising their hunger.
what? she doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to wake the children.
it's all right -- what?
no! today, i'm just a mangy dog on the street, but soon, i swear, i'll look other men in the eye! i swear. yet on his face we see the extraordinary pressure to make this promise reality.
i thought you were only taking a little.
i'm feeling a little dizzy.
what are those?
it sounds like someone needs help. hasari bolts for the corner.
what are you doing? a man's being beaten here! as hasari runs down the alley, the motorcycle fires up and screams off and the three goons take flight.
no, please. max finds his pockets empty. then reaches for his wrist -- his watch is gone -- and then his throat -- his chai is gone, too.
you see, i can keep up.
i can do it. i could pull it.
oh yes, babu. can i.  uhm?
well, yes, babu, i can do that. would you like me to imitate a horse? finished with the pimple, ashoka wipes a finger on his shirt and takes a helping off a plate of sweetcakes as.
i have a wife and three children, babu.
i shall be eternally grateful to you. from now on, i shall be as the youngest of your brothers.
someone has blessed us. a job, a roof, a school. soon i'll be able to send money home.  .  and put away a little bit for your dowry. in their excitement, the boys run.
i'm sorry, i don't know where that is. you're my very first passenger.
yes, thank you, you can depend on me. the girl runs into the school yard, met immediately by friends. hasari looks around at the clean, bustling school, at all the children in their crisp uniforms and a look of great yearning comes over his face.
so we can watch something grow.
amrita, i saw a beautiful wedding sari today. amrita is terribly embarrassed.
if you have it.
that's very generous but no, thank you.
you have repaid me by sharing our supper.
i can run and get dr. sunil.
you're a doctor, how can you not help?
i think perhaps you are a good man. hasari brings his hands together and goes inside.
i'm sorry, forgive me. it won't happen again.
oh, i am so pleased for you! panting helplessly, hasari smiles.  as he helps the school girl's mother into the rickshaw.
good morning, missus. briskly, he takes up the shafts and sets off.
it's farther that way, missus.
i was just.
yes, babu.
it's more than a father could hope.
from the godfather's son. for you and the doctor. amidst instant concern, joan opens the envelope. looks at max. we hear the sound of bangladesh music.
the godfather.
the godfather.
is it permitted to speak? there are quick nods around the room. with great difficulty, hasari says his piece.
i want my children to be educated and cared for; this is our home, we have never had such friends. but many of us owe a great debt to the godfather. he is strong and could kill us.  but we must choose. i trust my big brother. i say we must stand up. there's still dissension, but somewhat more support. said makes a fierce, unintelligible supportive sound. surya sighs again. eyes flick at the old man.
yes.
no, please, get in. max climbs into the rickshaw beside the two lepers and hasari pulls away.
i told them that your father provides us with a great deal and that -- ashoka slams his hand on the register.
please, babu, this is as if the ground has opened up. i have to speak to mr. ghatak! hasari starts for the house. the goonda stops him and, quickly, has hasari on his knees, his arm twisted pain- fully behind his back. ashoka jumps at hasari, grabs his ear.
i have a family!
they took away my rickshaw. aloka's hand flies to her mouth. hasari peers at max with his drunken gaze. it's a terrible moment for max, but.
but i trusted you.
i don't know how i'm going to pay the rent, how we're going to eat.
the children must leave the school; they'll have to work. and you will not have anything to do with the clinic or those people anymore. ram joins them.
you can't support all of us. you have a family in your village, too. hasari touches his friend and goes into:
take more. the attendant shakes his head.
take more. the attendant looks at rafik, who shrugs, nods.  and allows the blood to flow on out of hasari's body.
still stealing from refugees? gangooly looks at hasari, recognizes him, and gives him an amazing smile.
i'm touched.
i lost my rickshaw. gangooly gives hasari an appraising look for a moment, then.
which, fortunately, it is.
it's not a question of money. we'll survive on our own. that's it. hasari lies with his back to max. after some moments of silence, aloka indicates max should go. and he does. after another moment.
no! i'm your husband and you'll do as i say! unless, of course, you've become an american wife and then you'll do as you please!
stay away from them. they are not part of us. they will only be good to you as long as you please them. the children, aloka are frozen, she very close to tears. hasari lies back down, again turns his back on them.
if i were to go on the street with this machine, i would end up in a gutter with my throat cut.
doctor daddah, i'm just a small man. don't try to tempt me again with big thoughts. hasari starts to leave. max blocks his way.
but can you be trusted?
close the door! max is very surprised but, needless to say, pleased. he looks at the rickshaw, looks at hasari.
close the door. the godfather has more eyes than a pineapple.
i was saying to manooj that if a man bows down too many times, there will come a day when he will no longer be able to stand upright. the two men look at each other.  and then hasari gets on with his work.
if a man makes a promise.  max brins his hands together and starts for the door. hasari picks up one of the worn seat boards.
you're my wife, aloka, you and my children are all my wealth. but if max daddah and big sister joan have need of you, you may go to them. max comes out of the hospital. the two pals stare at him.
max daddah is our friend. if they're trying to harm him, then they're trying to harm all of us. we must stand by him as one.
i'm going on the streets tomorrow. this gets everyone's attention. the pullers shake their heads, they're worried for him.
i'm going to speak to his father.
babu, please, i beg you, hear my words! as the goonda is about to land on hasari we hear a feeble.
may i say first, babu, i wish you long life and good health.
when you gave me work, i swore i would be as your youngest brother. your son thinks i have been disloyal. he took my rickshaw. with my friend, i have remade this one. i beg you to let me go again onto the streets. i have my family. the old man looks at the rickshaw, at the obvious care that went into its renovation, at this unlikely team of refurbishers. he reaches a shaking hand out toward a shaft. hasari brings it close. the old man rubs the shaft.
thank you, babu.
an allure, babu -- thank you. the godfather stares at hasari, then at max.
if a man dies and he's not burned, what do you think becomes of his soul? the manager turns his palms up, continues chewing. hasari stares through the window at the row of skeletons.
i must provide for my family.
what's going on?
friends! the godfather at least is a caring man! this one, though, the son -- a signal from ashoka and one of the thugs knocks hasari down.
friends -- don't! if we stand -- he gets hit again. a number of the pullers come forward and a riot starts. the police move in, beat and arrest many of the demonstrators. ramatullah and chomotkar try to help hasari, but they are descended on by cops who hurl them aside and beat hasari senseless until the:
the life of a rickshaw puller is not one a man would choose if he had a choice. our feet blister and burn up from the boiling asphalt, our noses burn from the fumes of countless motor cars and buses, our backs curve permanently from the loads we carry hour after hour, day after day. but i am proud to be one of the human horses who carry my countryman from place to place and i am thankful for the opportunity to make a living. but i will not keep silent anymore and i will not be cheated and threatened anymore. life is hard enough. no more. ramatullah starts to applaud. rassoul follows suit. the judge bangs his gavel.
fifty rupees, your honor? that's --
really -- a boyfriend, amrita?
is there someone you care about? the look in amrita's eyes tells us indeed there is. hasari smiles at amrita and then at aloka.
then i must speak to his father and i must complete your dowry. amrita squeezes close to her mother. this is serious and joyous.
you will make people sigh at how beautiful you are. and i shall drop tears of joy.
the monsoon is the great durga's gift to the human horse! hasari glances at ram, who isn't a part of the joking.
what's the matter?
eight rupees.
who else needs a ride? i am available at a price!
the price just went up! ten rupees! in advance. the marwari hesitates only as long as it takes him to dig in his soaking wet pants and to slap the bills into hasari's hand and climb aboard. hasari sets out with great difficulty -- and greater determination -- through the floodwaters, flicking his eyes at the goonda as he goes.
how can i help?
here! i'm here!
yes, that's correct. he looks at his brothers, on either side. they look at him.
yes, yes, i was, my daughter told me, thank you.
it's too deep!
i can offer no more than i've offered! no more! all right, i'll add two dhotis, two vests, and a punjabi. but that's all. mr. ghosh lights up a bidi, looks at his brothers, wrinkles his brows at hasari.
my daughter's qualities will make up for what is lacking.
that's robbery! the child of a rajah might be worth that, and i'm not even sure of that! impossible! we linger on shambu a moment.
get back! stay back!
please, don't touch her, babu.
i said, please, don't touch her. hasari glances over his shoulder, his eyes bouncing off the goonda's impassive face. now, the knife comes out of ashoka's pocket, snaps open, glints in the light.
life is hard enough. no more. leave us alone. hasari backs off, leans against a wall, stares down at ashoka, his hands in tight against his body. manooj and shambu stare at their father in awe. shambu sees something on the ground where the first blow was delivered to ashoka's chest. everyone has moved slightly to one side. he bends and closes his fist around something. the goonda steps between ashoka and max and hasari.
a man's journey to the end of his obligations is a very long road. and you have to remember that you can never give up. we pray that life will bless us, that we will be kings, with possessions and money that we can rule over all around us. but it's a mist; the only thing that makes it possible to endure life is our love, one for the other. a beat, the family and max tightly bound together. and now we hear the dim sounds of rickshaw bells.
i was dreaming the sound of rickshaw bells, and now i hear them. max opens the windows. manooj helps his father sit up.
are they here for me? unquestionably, they are.
a city so big. when we arrived, we didn't have a place to live, a friend. he smiles.
get serious! i've agreed to the bicycle, i've agreed to the 1000 rupees! i can go no further. i have nothing more to give!
you never did belong to me. you were only lent to me by god until you marry and continue the wheel of life. amrita stares at her loving father and slowly her arms come up around his neck, the flower against his curved back. tears fill hasari's eyes, but a smile graces his lips.
i would be pleased if you would stand with me in the place of honor to the right of my daughter.
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