There is things that we can’t say,and even if we want to,we can never say that things and why?,well,this is a question that we need to find her an answer right?

–this is something that i wrote when i was about to tell someone something that i knew that can hurt him,but at the end i didn’t say anything and i don’t konw if i was doing the right thing but what i know is that i didn’t hurt him and i really happy that he is happy..

i really hope that you are doing the best choice for you and for the people you love,and i’m saying that as an advice,from me to you…

All lanes escorted on their never ending quests,

By battalions of steel pillars,

Suited in star-bright helms,

Helmets off at sunrise, men!

And the orange of the eastern morning rose up high,

And it set, and it rose, and it set once more,

Until a single soldier’s helm remained unplaced one night,

Time stopped and waited,

For the humanoid maker with the yellow hat,

For repair and replacement of helm and time.

Its sharp features, its objective eyes, yellow and all-seeing,

Cradles no malice nor fear in its depths.

Its heart serves only the blood swimming in its veins.

It has no elegant discourse with the sky for with its own leave does it rape the wind.

Scourge of those past the sense for hope.

Drink-full it does of their drips.

Soft bits, torn and tender spatter into the gritty dirt.

All respect for the dead taken in a sharp beak and flown off to feed the hungry young.

Mothers Day – cards, flowers, a surprise lunch, hugs and kisses all round. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Trouble is, that’s what you do when there is affection there….what are the rules when affection is lacking? Clearly, my mum loves me. Or, loves the idea of who I am now. But when growing up, and occasionally even now, she doesn’t love me enough – she loves the bottle more.
I grew up in a pretty standard family; from an area you wouldn’t go house-hunting in. Then though, everyone was poor. There were still the kids with sovereign rings and earrings, 4 gold necklaces all worn at the same time, and the highly fashionable wedge haircut, while dressed in the latest Bay City Rollers tartan gear, but there were few of them. The rest of us had nothing. Still, having little material possessions wasn’t the end of the world, we didn’t know any different. Oh, I knew that some of my Christmas presents were second hand, and I wanted to cry , but I also knew that it was second hand or nothing.
“She’s wearing second hand hats, second hand clothes…that’s why they call her second hand Rose…”

I loved Barbara Streisand singing about second hand Rose – but didn’t like facing the fact that this was my lifestyle. Holidays? Not a chance, unless I was bundled onto a boat to the Isle of Man with my grandmother – pleasant enough, but spending the whole journey in a smoky bar, while she drank her considerable weight in Guinness, wasn’t pleasant at all. Drink, it seemed, was destined to feature in my life.

I was twelve years old when things began to change. Every month, at around the same time, Mum would go to the off license for a bottle of vodka. She’d tell me it was secret, I wasn’t to tell Dad, so of course, I didn’t. She clearly felt shame, using a variety of different off licences to purchase her goods, as supermarkets were thin on the ground back then, and alcohol was off limits to a lot of people. The irony of it was , she was a barmaid by trade – alcohol was freely available to her, but embarrassment kept her drinking underground. Gradually, the gaps between trips to Threshers , or Ashe and Nephew, as it was then, became shorter, weekly sometimes. There was a distinct smell around my mother – she claimed vodka was untraceable, with no smell. Not from my point of view – she had a continuous haze of ‘ hairspray’ smell about her – a smell that I can recognise in an instant, 30 or more years later. Vodka. Gin. She’d never drink wine – a convivial glass of red with dinner. Or a nice chilled glass of white – no, it would be clear spirits, consumed in secret, the bottles always hidden. She was oblivious to the fact that her behaviour was erratic, and going downhill. Her mothering instincts headed for the hills, along with my hopes of a secure, happy childhood.

Before long, I was fifteen, and in the throes of first love. One day, I came back from school after a lingering walk home, daydreaming about romance and making plans for the weekend with my boyfriend, when we walked in to find my mother flat out on the landing. Unconscious. My boyfriend was in shock ‘ oh my god, should we call an ambulance? I’ll go, leave you sort it out’. Charming. He fled downstairs and out of the door . This enraged me – here she was , out for the count, clothes in disarray, hair matted, reeking of vodka – making me look a fool , I thought, in my teenage naivety. Did I call the ambulance? No. At that moment, I didn’t care if she lived or died, and turned on my heel and left her there.
I knew without doubt that she would come round and go about her business as usual. Dad would arrive home, find her in her usual, drunken, vicious state, and immediately leave – heading for the sanctuary of the nearest pub. My siblings and I were left to deal with Mum on our own. We wouldn’t see him for three days, whilst he holed up in Grandma’s house – we knew we could find him there. When Mum was drunk, but only mildly – there were different depths to her alcoholism – he would not disappear for days, but would stay out all of the daylight hours, only to sneak in quietly when she’d passed out, and head up the stairs to bed, where he’d grab a few hours sleep until she realised he was in, and would torture him physiologically all night.

For night-time, was when Mum would come alive. Having spent all day in a drunken stupor, she’d be raring to go by bedtime. I would go to bed, knowing full well that at any point in the night, she’d kick the bedroom door open, and scream at me to ‘ get downstairs and fix the stereo ‘. The constant fear of sleep deprivation, of harassment, of mental torture, was ever-present and is still tangible, many years later. I’d walk down the street, and look at peoples windows, thinking ‘are they happy? Do they suffer? Are they able to sleep all night?’. Dad slept though a lot of Mums midnight rants as he was medicated with his own alcohol – being only 15, this wasn’t an option for me, or my siblings. Therefore, we took the brunt.
I don’t harbour resentment for Dad’s behaviour – he was emotionally weak, and couldn’t live with her drunken behaviour, just as he couldn’t live without her. We would have been thrilled if he’d thrown her out, but no – refuge from Mum was out of our reach. Just as we’d have jumped for joy if one of our many Aunts or Uncles had taken us in – they all knew Mum was an alcoholic, but we were forbidden to tell them the true extent of what we were enduring, and thus our passage to safety was cut off.

There was the odd comical moment – one time in particular, I found an empty bottle of vodka with cat food smeared on its end. This, I later found out, was Mums way of locating any bottles she’d lost – the cat would hunt them out! Mostly though, these years were lost to me, my teenage years should have been spent having fun, going out , dressing up and putting on make up . Instead, I left home aged 17, and even as I left, she was drunk and threw all my belongings out of the front door. I moved into a bed and breakfast – not particularly pleasant, but after living on a knife edge for so long, even a derelict house was a better option. I progressed to a bedsit, paying the princely sum of £10 a week rent. I was in heaven. My latest boyfriend (who later became my husband ) and I would snuggle up, watching telly and eating takeaways in peace and quiet. His family were, and still are, quite normal. I frequently told him how lucky he was living in such a warm and comfortable family environment. ‘I’m not lucky, it’s you that’s unlucky’ , he’d say.

Now, I’m a grown up. Mid forties, with two grown up children of my own. Dad died a couple of years ago , and I often wonder was it the stress of living with my Mother that killed him – I will always wonder . Mums drinking gradually lessened, so that she’d only binge once a year, then once every two years, and now she is largely abstinent, but I am always expecting a binge at any moment. She bore Dads savage illness, and abstained from alcohol until the day after his funeral – she then let loose. I mentioned to her that I thought she’d done well, considering how stressful everyone’s lives had been – she said ‘ oh, I can’t drink until the funeral is over’. Clearly, she was planning a binge. You may say, reading this ‘ well, you can’t blame her’. I wouldn’t blame you, the reader, for thinking that. But, we had lost our father. Her children had lost their father. Instead of being able to turn to Mum and reminisce on happier times, she was raging drunk on Christmas day, surrounded by vomit and mess.

I, have turned out ok. My siblings have not. My brother, 18 months younger than me, is now divorced and drinking heavily, suffering from depression. My sister 4 years younger than me, is an alcoholic herself, and is subjecting her own daughter to the misery that she herself endured. Luckily for my niece, she has family who have given her refuge.

I reflect on the realisation that Mums drinking started around the time of her periods – clearly, there was a connection. If only there had been the medical support then, the whole sorry mess may never have occurred. After Dad’s death, when driving to the cemetery, she told me that she thought her drinking had been a way of punishing him for their earlier marriage problems. ‘What about us?’ I wanted to ask. But it was too late.

There are many people who have had much worse childhoods than I – those that have suffered much more physical, sexual and mental abuse. On the flip side, there are many who had rosy childhoods, who were reared in a cocoon of support and stability. These people go to lunch with their parents, call them regularly, pop in all the time., My Mother is not the same – she doesn’t think, or talk in the same way as other people, as if alcohol has damaged a part of her brain. She lives in her world, and is concerned only with things that interest her. So, I now revel in the knowledge that my children and I have a proper relationship. I do all the things with my daughter and son that my mother should be doing with me.

I mourn the Mother daughter relationship that died a long, long time ago. Mother’s Day, is not quite the same for me.

The shrill whistle of the goods train rocked me back to reality .after the last passenger train had left the station, a goods wagon left, to deliver to the people of the city the wonderful goodies procreated by Chhailgam & enjoyed by the whole district as well exported out of the country.Strawberries. The box of strawberries rested firmly atop the Tuk-Tuk which had brought me to the station .Tuk-Tuks were small passenger rickshas,amply available for transport on this small hill station …Cheap & Efficient !!!!! Also.Mugdha loved strawberries…!!!!!

After paying the “Tuk-Tuk wala”,who promptly replied in his broken English ” Thank you Saarrrr…hope you coming again Saarrr…Shall I hold your luggage to station Saarr ??.” I declined his offer politely and picking my luggage I trudged into the station only to find that that train had already left the station a hour ago and there was no rail transport back to the city for the next 72 hours !! That was 3 days !!!!!. All these years never had such a thing happened …all thanks to my near-sightedness because of which I had read the train timings of 6:30 as 7:30 …I cursed myself to no extent !!! Imagine a person coming to the hill station for such a long span of time and not remembering the train timings !!! Damn me .!!!!!.The Tuk-Tuk wala,Dinanath sensing my dilemma rushed in to the station and offered to drop me again to my cottage.” It will get verrry dark Saarrrr, Wild animal roam in jungle Saarrr !! You go back to Hotel Saarr ..???”..”Dinanath leave you …Saarrr !!!” But I had different plans for the day ” Dinanath,Tell me one thing…do you know any one who owns a taxi here, I want to go to the city at any cost “.On saying this I looked up only to find Dinanath staring at me with his mouth wide open.” You no go Saarr !!! Jungle verrry dangerous roads bad…!!!!…night time .!!!!.no guarantee…Please don’t go Sahib !!. Dinanath see many accidents in past…night time going not at all safe !!! Also “daku” and bad people waiting for rich gentleman like you .no safe at night please don’t go..Saarrrr !!!!” I wish I had heeded Dina’s advice that day and not gone ..But I did not .” Dinanath !!! I too don’t wish to…but I have to go ” !!!! Muds …Mugdha must be awaiting me !!!! “…I MUST go !!!!

The journey back again to the town took 8 hours by train .but by road it was never possible to reach the city in less than 12 hours ..sometimes Never !!!!.And now that I was traveling at night it was going to take more time than usual. Dinanath had persuaded an old friend of his,Munna to drop me to the city for a hefty sum of 1500 rupees ..5 times the normal train fare .Damn me !!!!. Munna was a middle aged man nearing his forties…heavily built, a thick long moustache, slick black oiled hair wearing only a vest and “lungi” which reeked of alcohol .desi daru” Alcohol !!!!!!!!!! .” Munna”I questioned him.”You are not drinking & driving, are you ??” .”Yes Sahib…Munna need something to keep awake whole night .Don’t worry Sahib .I can even drive a aero plane even when I drinking. Sahib…Keep faith in me !!! ” What else could I do !!! Me and my destiny !!! .all this only for my sweetum Muds …” Oh !! Mugdha, All the things I do for you . !!!”

The taxi was an old, run down, cranky and shaky vehicle which needed a gallon of water after each two hours or so. My journey back again started on a really bad note after the taxi required me and Dinanath to push it to get its engine heated up. Now after 3 hours of a shaky drive ,all the bones in my body were in a bad state and I had to constantly keep talking to Munna to ensure that he didn’t fall asleep at the wheel after all he had emptied an entire bottle of “desi” before we embarked on the journey. My constant blabbering was irritating Munna ,who by nature seemed a quiet individual. After a while Munna stopped answering my questions, obviously bored by my inquisitiveness, but still I stuck to my task ..What else could I do ???” Munna, !!! Are you married??” I asked him …but no response !!!!” Munna !!! How many children do you have ??” ..Silence “Munna !!!! How much do you earn in a single day ???” .still .” Munna !!! What is your wife’s name ???” .Screecccch !!!! The car same to a screeching halt.Munna definitely was now infuriated..”Look Sahib Munna don’t talk much ..Munna is married man ..Munna don’t like stranger asking about Munna’s wife .Please don’t force me to leave you in jungle Sahib !!! Munna not liking talking much OK Sahib” …Oops !!! I decided to keep my mouth absolutely shut for the rest of the journey !!.For nearly two hours after that…not a word was spoken. also now I too was enjoying the night silence of the forest. The cool breeze blew in my face reminding me of the sea faces of Kerala.The constant animal talks in the jungle, the various noises and cries of the wild animals had always intrigued me.

Today I hoped that I would get to see atleast one wild animal on my return journey ..but no luck yet !!. There had been talks amongst the country folks of a man-eater tiger roaming on the outskirts of Chhailgam ,but the forest officials had dismissed it as another panther who was eating up the fowls in the village nothing more .but Dinanath had claimed that he himself had seen that magnificent creature…but then there also had been no instances of any villager mauled or eaten by this “man-eater”. Must be A vegetarian man-eater I thought…Haa!!!.If not the man-eater, I hoped that I would atleast get to see a wild boar or a wild cat for that case I hoped !!!.

The road now was really bad. We were passing through the heart of the jungle .”Yup !! now is my real chance to spot any wild animal !!! ” I thought.I wiped the dew from the window pane to get a better view of the jungle outside.But to no avail…it was pitch darkness all around .The temperature too was beginning to drop.I took out a shawl from my tote-bag and wrapped it around my quivering body. I wondered how Munna was managing on only a “lungi” and a vest. I wanted to ask him if he wanted something warm to drape around him .but remembering his bloodshot eyes and his earlier warning, I decided to keep quiet.Anyways Munna was not exhibiting any signs of the cold affecting him a bit.So I decided to keep my mouth shut. “These country folk must really strong from inside” I said to myself.”Sahib !!!” Munna’s heavy voice pierced through the silence of the night.” Sahib” He said” Car go no further ,Sahib” …Oh no !! not another breakdown I thought”. But Munna’s problem was something else.” Sahib,Munna go no further Maut ka kua.Sahib .night time .no car dare to go ahead bad for us ..evil spirit roaming near kua.Sahib we wait till morning Sahib in 1-2 hours sunrise will happen sahib…then only I will drive ahead, Sahib..!!!” ..”What Bullshit…!!!” I thought” Nothing doing Munna ..I have to reach the city urgently .I got a flight to catch to my home, I bluffed , and don’t give me this Evil spirit bullshit and all all bloody old wives tales.Munna !!! I didn’t know that you were such a fraidy cat. You are a man damn it !!!!. Don’t act like a child and get driving or else..!!!” I was surprised to find myself talking to Munna in such a tone, but it seemed to work.”Munna,not believing in “bhoot” and evil spirit Sahib but many accident happen near Kua, Sahib !!!. That’s why Munna afraid !!” Munna said defensively.” It’s OK, I’ll drive then ” I offered to drive ahead. As I opened the car door, the sudden cold waft of air sent a chill down my spine. I further wrapped the shawl tightly around myself. Somehow I too felt some apprehension about driving ahead, but I banished my thoughts and slipped into the driver’s seat But still something really wasn’t right about this place. Again the sound of the car’s engine shattered the cold peace of the forest as if it was an alarm for the Demons of the Jungle. I drove ahead on the bumpy stretch.Munna was getting panicky sitting besides me. He constantly was chanting some prayer, trying his best to keep his eyes shut !!!.”What cowardice for a big sturdy man like him…Haa”.I thought. But Munna was right in some way .there were spirits around the Kua but in my case it was a good spirit !!!

As we neared the kua,the road was in an undrivable condition. now I realized the run down state of Munna’s taxi…Imagine driving through such kinda roads…that too twice or on some instances more like on today !!. It really was taxing on the car’s suspension and it’s body. Also Munna wasn’t so well-off to service his car once or twice a month. Also …suddenly a pair of twinkling eyes flashed from a nearby bush !!!.Munna let out a short scream and hysterically started chanting the prayer more loudly this time. I too felt a sense of fear grip me .but my fears were different from Munna’s.”The Man Eater … !! The man eater of Chhailgam ” I thought.I took out my torch from my bag…” SAHIB !!!” wailed Munna “Don’t stop Sahib,Bhoot will kill both of us Sahib …Munna not want to die .!!! Sahib !!” By now Munna was at my feet…pleading me to drive on .But no !! I was determined to catch a glimpse of that magnificent beast ..if it really existed in Chhailgam…this had to be him !!!” It was around 4o’clock in the early morning Yup !!! Tigers usually hunt in the wee hours of dawn…I knew…this further assured me about the existence of the Man Eater…and now this brutal creature was right in front of me. I flashed my torch from the safety of the car…but now there was nothing outside .not even a leaf crackled .As if the whole of the jungle was quiet in respect & awe of the ‘King of the Jungle’ .!!!

15 nerve-wrecking minutes passed by .but still no tiger…not even a small rat !!!. “Damn it ..what a waste of time .It must have been my imagination !!!” Till then,Munna who had passed away in fright also came to his senses ” But heyyyyy .Munna too had seen those eyes ..it just couldn’t have been my imagination..!!!!” But then now it was really getting late. I too was getting late. And I knew that if I didn’t get back home on time again…I would have to face another Man-Eater…my wifey Mugdha…for whom I was enduring this car journey !!!.” Man ,she would certainly eat me up if I didn’t get to her on time ” but I also knew that she loved me a lot …that’s why she couldn’t bear living from me for a longer span of time .!! I started the car yet again only to be greeted by yet another shock !!!. There was a small, half naked boy standing in front of the vehicle with his arms spread out wide and calling out at me in an unknown language.Munna ,too, was ecstatic after seeing him .He shouted out to the boy in a local dialect. The boy came rushing towards the car .

“Sahib !!! This is Dipoo…the village woodcutter Shiva’s son .Last week .Bagh…tiger killing Shiva villager finding Dipoo’s clothes near entrance of jungle We thinking Bagh kill him too !!! But He is alive Sahib…he is alive Dipoo is alive ..!!!!!”.

Chapter # 02

Dipoo brought into our life the much needed zest that our life had lacked ..He brought into it adventure along with emotion with his innumerous stories about the jungle and how the tiger had mauled his father to death. Many a times at night ,He would get up screaming only to drift back again to sleep once that nightmare would have been broken .Poor chap !!!! I was doing the best I could do for that fella !!. Muds too took an instant liking to that lad He called her “Akka”-elder sister …But insisted on calling me “Sahib”. On asking why?? He just used to hug Muds by her tummy!!! Poor lad!!! He was just 8-9 years of age. …imagine losing both your parents at such a tender age !!!! He took to Muds as an elder sister .She too showered the much needed affection and care on Dipoo. Muds had plans of adopting him, but I was thinking on other lines.Dipoo was not suited for the city, he had to return back to his abode….the lush, green countryside of Chhailgam. The first and the foremost things to do now were to take Dipoo back to Chhailgam and enquire about Dipoo’s relatives because Munna seemed to know nothing about him.” He from neech kul….sahib…village people don’t go near him….not good !! “ Saying this he had even refused to let him in the car…..but with a little persuasion thrown in with some extra money ,he had finally given in.

The day arose , when I and Muds along with Dipoo, of course, arrived in Chhailgam.The moment the train chugged into the station, the glow on Dipoo’s face was for everyone to see. He jumped around in the bogie, merrily dancing and shouting in his native tongue. Poor chap…..He really had missed his land. On the contrary Muds was a little upset. The bumpy train ride along with the sad realization that Dipoo would now probably be separated from her, was eating her. She had become very much attached to him in the past 5-6 days, unlike me.

This was Muds first visit to Chhailgam, earlier she had always refused to accompany me to this paradise, thinking it to be a run-down place, where the guides and the locals fleeced the touristers especially the ‘firangs’. But now even she was convinced about the existence of “paradise” on Earth. The lush greenery, especially the strawberry laden shrubs transcended her into a partial state of hypnotism…a kind of rapture !!!.Once after alighting on the platform, like a small kid ,she ran into the greenery adjoining the station. With both her arms spread apart, she revolved around herself chuckling like a two-year old gurgly toddler. Dipoo stared at her with wide eyes, forgetting his own joy after being a witness to Mugdha’s euphoria. And all I could do is just smile ? !!!. All this was not new for me. Right from the time I started knowing Mugdha, this childishness was not new for me. Those were the times when she would insist on me accompanying her to her kindergarten school…..just to play with the toddlers there, to help them with their studies, to accompany them to their various picnics as an volunteer ….to helping them blow balloon for their bi-monthly kiddie parties…….whew !!! She did all that was possible by her then. The school teachers too knew her by name, after all 10% of her’s monthly earnings was donated to this “Tiny Angel’s Nursery”……so aptly named !!! I too used join Mud’s in her once or twice a month visit to this place brimming with kids of all sizes !!. After all my Mud’s too had ‘graduated’ from this “Angel’s” school……..and she was an “Angel” too….!!!?

The hooting whistle of “ The Chhailgam Express” leaving the station for the car-shed broke into Mugdha’s trance. Shyly she walked towards us, obviously embarrassed by her kiddish show of pleasure. Dipoo still had his mouth wide open as yet !! But still I had enjoyed every single bit of it……..after a long time had I seen Mugdha open up like this.

“Why didn’t you stop me,dumbu ?” hissed Mugdha into my ear. All the people on the station were now staring at us as we walked towards the ricksha stand. Mugdha by now had turned beet-red by all this unwanted attention. The crimsonish glow on her dimpled cheeks made her looks all the more cuter. Her shy, sweet embarrassed smile rocked the village folks….some even mistook her for some Bollywood actress, their ‘murmur’ reaching our ears. Here was Muds……a 30-something woman who looked not more than 21…!!! Just then the breezy winds of Chhailgam caressed her silken hair, sprawling them across her face………and lo and behold …..the entire district of Chhailgam was stunned by the ethereal beauty of my darlin’ Muds………..!!!!

Chapter # 03

Quite some time passed with we being in Chhailgam, but still no clue was found about Dipoo’s relatives. Nor were any village folk eager to provide any sort of information regarding Dipoo. Each one was the victim of the same old ideology…..that Dipoo was of a lower cast or’neech kul’ ,the villagers used to say. I was disappointed to see that such casteism existed even today. But hey !! This was just one of those villages where people still believed in ghosts and evil spirits and some hodgy-podgy ‘Maut ka kuas’……I could just scoff at such people. But Muds was very disturbed by this no-show. She even went to the extent of hitting one of the village women……who had foul mouthed Dipoo on his caste, thanks to Dinanath, the local Tuk-Tuk driver who ran in to my rescue and averted any possible scuffle which could have erupted between Mugdha and the village women. Poor Muds…she certainly had become too attached to that little child. On the contrary Dipoo was enjoying a lot. With no proper home to stay, he was staying with us at the village dak-ghar. He used to spend the entire day loitering in the adjoining jungle and his evenings were spent in rummaging the old, shady corners of the dak-ghar. He always was an inquisitive chap. Muds too sometimes used to join him in his expeditions…….but most of the times, at the end of the day, she would be too exhausted even to keep her eyes open. Everyday I had to carry her to the master bedroom upstairs in the dak-ghar, this, reminding me of the days just after our marriage ?

Radha used to turn red with embarrassment at such times…….Radha was a middle aged woman appointed by Dinanath to take care of us during our stay. He had promised her a fat amount of money for looking after us. Though very talkative, Radha was an excellent cook…whipping up a variety of dishes even at a short notice. I too used to praise sincerely. Muds, but of course turned green with envy at such moments. “ I’ll kill you if you butter that fat Radha again…I’ll never talk to you again if you utter any single word of praise for her”, she used to say. But once after Radha served the dinner on the dining table, Muds too used to savor the lip smacking contents of her plate with gusto..!!!.In a short span of time, Radha had become one of the family. Dinanath too used drop in frequently to enquire about us. He treated Radha as her daughter, always reprimanding her on her talkativeness. But amidst all this ….Dipoo was still homeless

Not able to speak his language, Muds too couldn’t coax him to make him talk about his relatives or anyone he knew in the village. Radha had this casteism bit for Dipoo but she didn’t show it….fearing Muds of course !!! So she avoided Dipoo most of the times, never approaching the kid directly. Dinanath was an old ricksha driver who knew nothing of the jungle and all Dipoo could speak was a few broken words of English…….thanks to foreign tourist invasion in Chhailgam.

But one day something out of the ordinary happened…It so happened that monsoon had arrived in Chhailgam. It usually arrived a lot more earlier in these hill-stations than in the city ……The entire of Chhailgam was bathed in the green glory of the rains, little brooks erupted in the mountains out of nowhere, the Mohami river which flowed through the valley gathered more speed…all the flora and the fauna of the jungle had found respite from the Summer heat….the jungle behind the dak-bunglow was also beginning to grow more and more dense with the rains……also the rains never seemed to stop, as if the Gods were crying on our failure to relocate Dipoo back to his kin, seven days a week ,24 hours a day…it just kept on raining and raining and raining.

.. But one day it arose with the Sun shining brightly in the sky ?..there was no sign of any black cloud in the sky…the entire stretch of horizon had opened up to bask in the long lost sunshine ….colorful birds adorned the blue sky with their presence chirping gleefully in their golden voices….everything around was rosy and happy until then.

It was around 12o’clock in the afternoon when Radha was on the terrace drying clothes in the crisp monsoon sun…normally due to monsoon all the drying was done in a special room in the dak-ghar….but today Mugdha insisted that the clothes be dried on the roof. Maybe her insistence was for a reason…??? Sulking over the fact that she had to now dry clothes out in the blazing sun, Radha stomped all the way up the terrace stairs. Me and Muds were enjoying our afternoon siesta down in the dak-ghar living room…,the sudden change in the atmosphere had made us all sleepy…..but not Dipoo, he as usual was missing from the bungalow…maybe playing out in the courtyard or rummaging in the jungle behind !!! Muds did not care about the fact that Dipoo was in the jungle behind unless he didn’t get himself dirty ? …..Just then a shrill scream pierced through the heavy afternoon air…Muds woke up with a start…. I too didn’t understand anything at first…. but then we both realized that the voice was of Radha’s who was drying the clothes upstairs. We hurried upstairs only to find Radha trembling away ,her face all white with fear and eyes stark open as if she had seen something ghastly……she stood shaking by the terrace door pointing her finger towards the terrace wall, hinting me to look down. Instructing Muds to take her down, I rushed towards terrace wall overlooking the dense jungle only to find Dipoo playing below, happily humming to himself . It seemed as if he hadn’t heard the scream at all….but how could it be ??? Radha’s scream had shaken the whole of the dak-ghar and how did Dipoo not hear it ???……..and what was that ,which had made Radha scream on top of her lungs ??? I don’t know why but all seemed very strange to me….Just then I felt someone tugging at my sleeve…. I turned back to find Dipoo pulling at me, beckoning me to play with him…..i guess he must have seen me overlooking the terrace wall and must have come up then ….but how did he get here sooo fast……….How long was I here on the terrace ???? Didn’t Mugdha see Dipoo enter into the dak-ghar ??? All seemed like a puzzle to me and the solution to this puzzle rested with Radha……..Radha !!!!! How was she ??? Had Mugdha taken her downstairs and given her proper medication…..the stark, white, frightened face of Radha loomed before my eyes…….i rushed downstairs with Dipoo tagging me along ……!!!!

Radha till now had collapsed from the frenzy of the incident and she was lying flat out on the living room sofa, with Mugdha mopping her forehead with a damp swab of cloth. On enquiring I came to know that Radha had fallen unconscious right after she had come downstairs with Mugdha, even Mugdha not knowing as to what had Radha seen which had frightened her so much.? !!!!!!

The entire afternoon passed with Radha unconscious, Mugdha now was really getting tensed about her.” What possibly would she have seen, Adi ??”, she asked me. But I had no answer.? Dinanath also had heard the news and he too was present besides Radha’s bedside. Dipoo, too was running small-small errands for Muds, was on his toes the whole afternoon……small kid ? ,he was not understanding what had happened to Radha. Also the doctor who had come to see Radha failed to understand what had happened to Radha, diagnosing it as “mere exhaustion”, administering her a sedative injection before he left. But recollecting that frightened look on Radha’s face that afternoon, I knew that something somewhere was not right and I had to wait till Radha regained consciousness ..and it sure was a loooong wait?

Chapter # 04

By now the sun was setting in all it’s glory in the western skies, still Radha hadn’t woken from her slumber sleep ….good , the doctor had advised bed-rest for her….but still I needed to talk to her.

Evening time in the dak-ghar brought along with it numerous sounds from the adjoining jungle, with different birds and animals contributing to it….you could hear the whistling of the warbler, the rat-tat-tat of the wood pecker, the mean laughter of the hynea..the screeching of the monkeys…at times you could even hear the trumpet of a solitary elephant…but then these animals were far away from the dak-ghar and except for an odd monkey, no animals ever ventured near the village…and speak about a man-eater….haa…I scoffed at the thought. But today the jungle was surprisingly quiet, as if the whole of the jungle was mourning the death of someone or something……but little did I know that it was the peace before the storm !!!! Also it hadn’t rained a single drop the whole day, providing a well sought relief from the constant pitter-patter on the roof the whole day….no sooner the thought had crossed my mind, I heard a mild rumble.

Looking out of the window, I couldn’t see any traces of rain-cloud in the diminishing sunlight outside, “strange…!!!!”, I thought…again I heard a rumble again….only this time around I realized that the rumbling came from my tummy which was unfed the whole afternoon, thanks to the excitement of the noon. I went in the kitchen to see what Mugdha was doing…and a sweet waft of Gajar-halwa hit my nose. I saw Muds ,wearing a baby pink apron ,leaning over the cooking range, stirring into my favorite Gajar-Halwa. I tiptoed behind her and grabbing by her waist impromptu planted a big kiss on her cheek.”Dumbu..!!! what are you doing ??”, she shouted “What if I would have………” and before she could complete her sentence our lips were interlocked in a what seemed a never ending kiss ? !!!! ….Minutes must have passed by when Dipoo entered the kitchen and gave out a cry of excitement seeing us……Muds pushed me away, wiping her blushing face she started stirring the already stirred halwa ?. I too buried my face in a week old newspaper that lied on the kitchen shelf. Dipoo till then was looking alternately at us with a quizzical look…

Suddenly Muds burst out laughing seeing Dipoo’s reaction……..and we both to joined in her laughter. Mugdha looked a million dollars in that pink apron ? …she patted Dipoo on the head and giving a quick peck on my cheek, she stepped out with the casserole having the halwa towards the dining room. And all I could do was gnarl my teeth at Dipoo who had played spoilsport……….”Grrrr……stupid kid.!!!!”

Anyway, the bell would ring, I would give mum a kiss and then join my friends in class. I’d spend the first ten minutes pretending to tidy my tray as the other kids would discuss last night’s TV. I couldn’t join in these conversations as I was in bed by 8 o’clock every night. Unless they were talking about childrens TV, I was excluded from these conversations. Mind you, I was also usually excluded from conversations about ‘Fudge’ and ‘Childrens Ward’ as I was only allowed to watch BBC.
We’d all get our bits and bobs out – our books, our lunch boxes (or an old sandwich bag if you were me), our pencil cases. Pencil cases were funny things. Every term everyone would come to school with new bags, new shoes, new coats and definitely new pencil cases. What a simple thing to go and choose a lovely new pencil case every term. Everyone would have lovely flowery or stripey cases. Some of the girls had pink furry pencil cases. Not me. Mum bought mine as a little surprise and treat for me. It was a yellow Sherlock Holmes ‘Case of the Missing Pencil’. The kind of pencil case a boy would have. For me it was an embarrassment and I had tried to swap it, tried to give it to people as a gift, tried to lose it, but that Sherlock Holmes always found it’s way back to me, complete with all the pencils with dad’s work logo on, and the plastic pencil sharpener and my collection of pencil shavings.
No Naf Naf notebooks for me. No Oilily, Laura Ashley, Ton Sur Ton. My notebooks were all courtesy of one of Dad’s customers. They didn’t have little hazy pictures of flowers or bears in the corners of the pages. Mine had dates, prices and quantities.
My painting shirt wasn’t one of mum’s old Fruit of the Loom tops. My painting shirt was an oversized man’s tshirt with dad’s company name emblazoned across it.
After taking the register the teacher would let us go and get a toy to play with until assembly time. It was always a huge rush for the best toy. The boys would go for the tractors and cars. The girls would head for the teachers old net curtains which we would make into veils to get married in. The boys would then disappear under a table somewhere while we tried to impress them with our pretty headdresses, chasing them under the tables and tripping over our long net curtains. The rigmarole usually ended in my having a nose bleed (really, every day) and I would spend the ten minutes of ‘toy time’ in the caretaker’s office holding the bridge of my nose.