M.

Featuring:

M;

Grandfather Beloved; and

Grandmother Beloved.

Daddy Strongest and Mother Dearest often went away to distant shores to teach and talk, or atleast that is what I understood of the reasons behind their periodic absences. Not that I cared much- even the prospect of receiving fantastically made toys and clothes upon their return failed to elicit much excitement from me for them- I was just very happy that I would be with the Grandparents Beloved again. Mother Dearest always tells me I spent more time with her parents than she ever did!

My large tin trunk is packed, loaded into the family car and off we head to the best place in this whole wide world.

Grandparents Beloved, two Uncles (one adopted) and two Aunts lived not too great a distance away from the quaint little town in Assam that had our home. Another Aunt and Uncle had gone away to get married and work, respectively, but they would always visit.

I must stop for a bit and tell you about the small settlement where Grandfather Beloved had made home many years ago after reading in a great university but wanting to run a small school. He chose to build his home on one side of a highway. There was a railway track that ran alongside, which provided us with great entertainment twice a day. There were only a few families who had their homes close by. There was also a fair sized community structure, named after the greatest Indian Freedom Fighter, but referred to simply as the ‘Library’ by all. This small settlement was largely inhabited by members of a different religious community who lived on either side of the highway. For the longest time, I did not know that the peaceful happy community consisted of people with radically different ideas of religion- I was never made to feel it!

Anyway, to return to the current narration- after several stops to rest, more for our family car than us, we reach the small settlement. We are met on the lovely front porch by a twinkly-eyed Grandfather Beloved. Grandmother Beloved and the Aunts and Uncles follow with large jugs of freshly squeezed fresh lime juice. The Uncles wrestle my large tin trunk off the family car as we greet the Grandparents Beloved, albeit with a certain amount of restraint. Not so, with my Uncles and Aunts! As the four elders sit down to talk, I inspect the home piggybacking on my Uncles with my Aunts prancing behind us- it is always a triumphant return! I quickly check the vegetable and flower patches for any exciting new appearance; I take a peek at the band of friendly monkeys that reside just behind the home; I am giddy with happiness. I forget to wave goodbye to Daddy Strongest and Mother Dearest.

Much later, in the early hours of the evening, I am summoned by Grandfather Beloved to the lovely front porch and handed a sheaf of papers, which are filled with his exquisite handwriting- the papers contain my routine for the days to follow. I quickly glance through each page and note with satisfaction that all is fair as usual – equal time for study and play! My day would start at 7 AM after breakfast and I would study till 10 AM with a bit of revision thrown in for an hour between 5 PM and 6 PM but oh wait, what do I see! This time, Grandfather Beloved thought it would do me good if I went out of home to play! But, but, who with, I silently ask myself, not daring to question wisdom! Sensing my doubts, Grandfather Beloved looked up and said that he had arranged playmates for me.

10 AM. I gulp down the glass of milk and snacks Grandmother Beloved hands me and run out to the lovely front porch with a touch of trepidation I must say. I see four grown up boys waiting by their bicycles outside the front gate! Grandfather Beloved looks up from his book, shrugs and says that these were his pupils from the past and they would take good care of me. But I was NOT to cross the highway under any circumstances.

And I meet M.

M leads me by my hand and places me firmly on the handlebar of his bicycle. We sail away.

We play Ping-Pong in the Library. We run around chasing butterflies. We build mud huts. We fish in the ponds. We venture into the wooded areas all the while creating stories of terror. We read books. We run along the railway line making up stories of the places that must lie on its sides. M and the boys bring me back home at 1 PM, not a minute sooner or later. Days fly by. Life is as good as it can get.

Just as always, Daddy Strongest and Mother Dearest write to inform their return – which is exactly a week hence. Well, I had a week and I would make the most of it! M, the boys and I play harder and laugh louder. We create new games, think up new stories and make several promises to each other.

M comes home and says his mother has cooked a special biryani[1] and a few other treats for me- he asks if I could visit his home for an hour in the afternoon of the next day.

I wake up in the morning with a fever much to my consternation and that of everybody at home. I am sent straight back to bed. I am angry with myself, I am wasting a day lying around and I know for sure I would not be able to visit M’s home. I can hear Grandfather Beloved explaining to M that I would not be able to visit and the sound of M’s bicycle as he rides away.

I am feeling better in the evening. I get out of bed and walk towards the lovely front porch. Grandparents Beloved, Aunts and Uncles are huddled together urgently whispering to each other. They see me and give me wan smiles. Grandmother Beloved hurriedly gets up and hustles me back to bed. I think nothing more of it.

M and the boys do not come in the morning. I am furious. As I wait, hoping they would come, I see the men in the house dressed in simple white clothing, preparing to leave home. I ask where they were going but they leave without answering me. I go inside and badger Grandmother Beloved. With tears streaming down her face, she tells me M is dead. M was killed in an accident while crossing the highway in the afternoon of the previous day. Grandfather Beloved and my Uncles are going to see him laid to rest.

I wait till Grandmother Beloved goes into the kitchen and my Aunts go about their work. I slip out of home and start running. I run along the railway track remembering vaguely being told that there is a burial ground on its side some distance away. I stop when I see a group of people on a patch of land on the left, bent as if in prayer. I inch closer and hide behind a tree.

I watch as the men, including Grandfather Beloved and my Uncles, stand up, lift a white shrouded bundle and place it in a freshly dug pit. Is that M? As I watch from behind the tree, there is just one thought that runs around in crazy circles in my head- would M have been alive if I had visited M’s home yesterday? I start running again. Eyes blinded by tears, I stumble and fall many a times as I run back along the railway track. I do not feel pain; I just want to go home.

Grandmother Beloved perhaps sees me from a distance. She hurries out of home and carries me inside. As I sob and babble incoherently, she cleans and dresses the numerous cuts and scrapes on me. She holds me and gently rocks me as I fall asleep in the warm embrace of her arms.

[1] Biryani, also known as biriyani or biriani, is a South Asian mixed rice dish with its origins among the Muslims of the Indian subcontinent. It is popular throughout the subcontinent and among the diaspora from the region. It is generally made with spices, rice and meat. Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biryani.