The Journey - Part 3

"The Quiz"

It is said that time heals every wound, does it? Time only leaves a scar which protects the wound from the outside world. What about inside? Some people can’t let the wound go and others simply manage to pretend that they can. Life should not be counted in number moments you smiled, but the number of moments when you actually forgot the pain. She have had her share of baggage, more than she was capable of carrying. Her life was an advice she would have never given to anyone else. She probably would have asked others to get over the self-pity and stand up for themselves. She had lost the right to tell people what to do. Everything she said was invalidated by her one decision. Everything always came back to one thing, how she could do this to other woman being a woman herself. Suman was staring at the infinite starry galaxy. She didn’t know what she was looking at but she felt empty. The baggage was gone, like someone took it away from her. It had defined her and now it was gone, just like that. She suddenly felt lonely. She badly needed something to distract herself.

“Anushri, your profession sounds very interesting.” Suman tried to sound excited.

“You can call me Anu, that’s what everyone used to call me. It was indeed interesting. I had a great time working. Business is exciting, stressful, and hectic. It was strange that I used to find peace in the stress.”

#13 had to pitch in with his fundas, he had this irritating itch of impressing the dead people.

“That is because you might be fond of challenges and loved the sense of accomplishment after the stress.”

“True, but sometime we failed terribly and hardly accomplished anything”

“Failure is also an accomplishment. Outcome does not define the effort. Death does not define life.”

“Mr. 13, do they teach you to talk like this in some course at heaven?” Mrs. Sarpotdar asked very politely. She had the royal poise which made her beautiful face even more attractive.

“They actually do, but I can stop making remarks about death if you don’t like them”

“No, it is good to discuss for a change. It is been long time I discussed something with someone without looking for conclusions, please continue”. Mrs. Sarpotdar always sounded very sincere.

“So what I was saying to Anushri, is that - everything is relative. The definition of failure or success depends on bar you set for yourself.”

“Very true, one defines his/her own success or failure, but at the end of the day you need at least one person other than you validating that success or failure.” Suman loved challenging her own philosophies.

“And sometimes we spend our entire lives waiting for that validation from the other person and we never get it.” Mrs. Sarpotdar reacted.

#13 slowed down the car and turned his head towards the back seat, “Ladies, please. I am generally known as a Yamdut whose dead deliveries smile when they get down at the heaven, and these boring theoretical discussions are definitely leading to destroying that reputation, help me here! I am sure you have some real experiences to share rather than making vague philosophical remarks as if you have understood the whole purpose of life and death. Believe me or not but you are nowhere near finding the truth.”

Nobody reacted for 2-3 seconds. Ladies didn’t like his remark. Sharing the experience with strangers was a horrible idea. But #13 was obsessed with manipulating people. He decided to play one more card, “Do you remember how much you wanted to know how you died?” He could now see clearly that he had their attention.

”I still won’t be able to disclose that information but if you answer 3 simple questions correctly then you might strike the right memory chord and you will remember the cause by yourself. There is always a 50-50 chance whether you remember it correctly but it is better than knowing nothing. Choice is yours.”

“Now knowing is killing me like anything.” Anu took out the frustration.

“You are already dead” #13 interpreted the sentence too literally.

“I am in, let’s take a chance.” – Anu.

 “Agreed, even I am curious and what’s there to lose now”, replied Suman.

 “I am not curious as much as you two, but I don’t want to ruin Mr.13’s reputation”, said Mrs. Sarpotdar.

“Okay, that’s what I expected, let me put car on auto drive so that you have my full attention. Since we have covered the name age and profession part, I will skip basic questions”.

“Is this like the reality show ‘Moment of truth?” Anu sat in her ‘ready to quiz’ position.

#13 laughed, “No, there is no lie detector here, but I am sure you will tell the truth because then your probability of knowing the death cause is better. Let’s call it – ‘Retracing memory map’ ”

“And I will be the only one asking questions now on! Is that clear ladies?” #13 spoke with extra stress on every word. Ladies laughed, #13 was looking funny trying to impress them with rough tough quizzer image.

“We don’t have light and sound effects but please imagine that we have. Here you go with first question – What is your best childhood memory? I repeat, what is your best childhood memory? Anu is youngest and her childhood is more recent than Miss. Suman and Mrs. Sarpotdar. She will take less time to remember. Anushree, you go first.”

Anu was excited, “Obviously I have very little life experience as compared to Suman aunty and Mrs. Sarpotdar , so my memory might not be as good as theirs. But I am anyways going to tell since I want to know how I died.

I am born and raised in Mumbai. Dad is a successful businessman and mother is a social worker.”

#13 corrected her “You are using present tense again”

Anu thought for a second, “See my parents are still alive and are always going to be part of life or afterlife. I am not yet ready to refer them in the past. I am terrible at letting go people.”

They have raised me like a princess. My dad has built his empire from almost nothing and mother has come from a well-educated but poor family. They both know the value of life and respect effort rather than success. I could not have asked for any better life than what they offered me. Mom always made a conscious effort not to turn me into a spoiled rich kid who takes everything for granted. She made me play with kids of Radhakaki - our maid. She also took me to orphanage visits.

In spite of all her efforts, the fact was still true that I was a rich kid and I had my tactics to get what I wanted.

I was 12 years old and I wanted a new fancy bicycle in that summer vacation. Mom had complained to Dad about something I did the other day which she was upset about. My application for bicycle was straightaway rejected by Dad. Once Mom and Dad formed a team, then it was a hard to break them with emotional blackmail. The next day, Dad came up with the proposal that if I go to a summer camp for 20 days and survive complete 20 days, he would buy me the bicycle I wanted. I had been to the summer camps before, where all rich kids used to gather and learn art & craft, dancing, singing and played few rich games like basketball, football, tennis. They even let us call Mom and dad every day. It was fun.

I probably didn’t hear him saying “survive” and accepted the condition right away. He knew me so well. He didn’t tell any details about the camp. Mom had my bags ready. I didn’t had any time to pack or see what mom packed for me, but I trusted her. We left by train in early morning to go to Himachal. Mom and Dad came to drop me. Mom hugged me and asked me to take care of myself. I felt strange as her voice was little shaky.

When the group leader gave us instructions, I finally understood that it was not an art and craft type camp. It was more like a scout camp. Now I understood why going to camp earned me bicycle. I thought I will give it a shot for the sake of bicycle. Train journey was good. I met one boy –Anish and a girl - Suchitra who were of my age.  They also came from a rich families. We became good friends due to our love for video games. Suchitra had been to this camp last year and she loved it. Anish was as anxious as I was. We took a bus from city to one village and then after walking for more than half an hour through small jungle, we reached the camp site - a beautiful and huge Lake. It was almost evening. The sunset at the lake was just mesmerizing. I could see a deer drinking water at the other side of the lake.

The instructor then gave us our tents. Suchitra was experienced so our group had an advantage. On the first night, all leaders lit the fire and cooked dinner for us. We had round of introduction during dinner. ‘Pretty easy’ I thought to myself. We had to get up at 5:30 in the morning the next day for god knows what. I and Suchitra went to sleep chitchatting about our schools and other friends from Mumbai, little girly gossip.

                                   

We got ready on the time early morning next day. I expected that they will serve the breakfast just like dinner, but instead we were asked to form groups and take trip in the jungle to find the wood for the fire and eatable fruits. Now I and Anish started getting hang of it. I was tired walking, exploring, coming back to camp site, learning to cook on the fire. I just wanted to run from there. The day was exhaustive, my whole body was aching. Before going to sleep, I and Anish asked Suchitra if we can call our parents and ask them to take us back to Mumbai. She said quitting the camp is only allowed if you fall sick and get badly injured. Anish looked at me and I knew he was thinking about faking sickness or injury. Suchitra just could not understand why we wanted to leave. According to her it was fun and we just had to try harder for first 2-3 days. We survived another 3 days of physical stress plus not talking to Mom and dad. I had not been away from my parents for so long. I and Anish both didn’t feel like staying for another 12 days with such a strict group leader. It was like a military camp. A bicycle was not worth the torture of 20 days.

Anish was rebellious, he tried to hurt himself during one of our expeditions to hill near the lake, but the injury was treatable as per camp doctor. I too tried to fake sickness the next day but I guess camp doctor knew this old trick. On 5th day of camp, we were all going to be taken to village by walking. We were allowed to spend money and buy things we wanted to. I and Anish saw an opportunity and had this plan to run from the camp so we took all money and the necessary things in small backpack. When we reached the village, we found a moment when our group leader was distracted and we ran to bus stand. We took the bus to the city and had plan to take train from there. There was only one bus per day from village to city, so we were sure camp people will not be able to chase us unless they made special arrangements. Our group leader didn’t realize our absence until it was time to go back to the camp. This was obviously later confirmed by Suchitra.  We reached the city in another 3 hours. We asked around for directions to train station. We didn’t know how much train ticket could cost so we saved money by not eating anything even if we were hungry like hell. We walked to the station which was quite far from the bus stand. One or two people asked us if we were lost but Anish was smart enough to lie that our parents were going to meet us at the station. I don’t know till date how I dared to walk on my own in totally strange city. I had never done that in Mumbai also.

We went to train station by the evening. The station was not much crowded. We read schedule board as enquiring at the enquiry window was risky. Once we knew the train, we bought tickets till Mumbai went alone to get the tickets and acted as if my father asked me to get them. The arrival of the train was 2 hours away. We had to hide somewhere before camp people came searching for us. We found a corner at back of the bench. We were so tired that we slept off holding each other’s hand. Suddenly Anish woke me up, a creepy man was standing beside us. He asked Anish if we could give him some food. Anish said we didn’t had any. He was persuasive, he asked if we could buy him some food. We wanted to get rid of him, so we bought him biscuits. He went away, we went to other lonely place across the platform. We both were scared, but Anish didn’t agree to go to station master, he thought I was over reacting. Creepy man again found us and started asking questions. We both started running in opposite direction and he started following us. There is a thin line between bravery and stupidity. We were surely on the side of stupidity that day. We went to direction which was lonelier and away from station master’s office. We ran for like 20 mins, Anish was little chubby. At one point he was out of breath and so was I. I asked Anish to stop and hit creepy man instead of running. We both were not sure how. We didn’t even had time to stop and think about how scared we were. I wanted to cry but somehow I was holding up.

It was impossible to run now. The man also knew that we were tired. The Man finally caught Anish, took his backpack. He threatened to hurt Anish if I don’t give my backpack. I was little away from both of them. I pretended to drop my backpack and picked up a big rock in case I needed.

I started handing him over my backpack. He left Anish and sat, started searching through our bags. I noticed he was distracted and so I hit his head with the rock. Anish also followed me and hit him hard with another rock. He was bleeding. He soon fainted. We again started running back to the station before he was cautious again. We reached the station, train to Mumbai was at the platform. The camp people had reached the station and were searching for us. Anish boarded the train. I was still at the platform. He tried to convince me that we should go back to Mumbai on our own otherwise this all effort was in vein. I told him he can go alone but I am sure about going to the station master. I was firm on my decision.

Finally camp people found us, none of them really scolded us once we told them the whole story. We both had little scratches and wounds as we had fallen off while running. We were sweating like pigs. Camp people thought we both were traumatized, but we were not. I could see Anish’s grinning eyes. I had realized the seriousness of the whole situation but I too was not traumatized as such. Anish was appreciating me for presence of mind. Till date, I still don’t believe that I was being brave. We both realized that we should have continued the camp to experiment our adventurous side rather than running away and learning the lesson hard way. We were scared in the situation but we still overcame the fear and acted on it. I also realized that life isn’t too easy on the streets, what my mom tried to show me was the reality and not the one inside the bungalow.

When camp people took us back to Mumbai, I saw mom and dad in tears. They were glad that I was safe. I threw myself in their arms for a warm hug without thinking about the lecture I was going to get the next day. I had learnt the lesson my mom always wanted to me learn – you cannot take anything in life for granted , you have to earn everything in life to make it worth living.

That’s all, that’s my memory!

Anu smiled as if she liked her own story. She was surely the happy go lucky girl!

#13 said “Fantastic! Story of stupidity and bravery, I like that. You could have avoided the moral at the end, it sounds like Panchatantra story now”

Suman replied “there is a saying – Bad choices make good stories. I am glad Anu that you were safe. You can’t always get away with impulsive decisions and mistakes. Sometimes we end up paying very high price for that. You were lucky”

Mrs. Sarpotdar appreciated Anu, “I am glad you shared that memory Anu. It is very hard to admit and laugh at your own mistakes.”

#13 was curious “Did your Dad buy you the bicycle?”

Anu smiled as she remembered exact expression on her Dad’s face that day, “No. he was man of his words. I didn’t deserve the bicycle since I didn’t finish the camp and he wanted me to pay the price for what I did. That way mom and dad made me remember that running away from situation is never a good solution.”

                                                                                                  

#13 wrote some score against Anu’s name and asked, “Who is ready next?”

Mrs. Sarpotdar was confused, her childhood was the best part of her life. She came from a typical lower middle class family. Her father was a government servant earning just enough money to maintain the middle class status. Mother was a real home-maker who pursued her small entrepreneurial adventures trying to lift them from lower middle to upper middle class. Mrs. Sarpotdar was their only child who always got just enough grades to move to next class every year. Her Mother was very proud her daughter for being such an amazing artist, she used to call her paintings ‘soulful’. Father used to hold the painting and wonder, “I don’t know what soul you find in this? Is this not just a house, a tree with swing and The Well?”  Her mother always dismissed father by saying that those paintings were as beautiful as her daughter was.

                          

Mrs. Sarpotdar finally could pick one memory out of thousand. It was not the best one but had left deepest impression on her mind.

I was in 8th class. My exam results were going to be out the next day. I was pretty tensed about whether I would be able to pass that year. I was trying to distract myself with my favorite hobby drawing, but ended up tearing apart bunch of papers instead. I started cribbing so my mother asked me to help her with one in her latest business of selling home-made pickles. She was going door to door that day. We started around 10 o clock in the morning when husbands were out to work, children were out to play in summer vacation and housewives were free to see our products.

It was almost 1 o clock. We had gone to almost 16 houses and sold only couple of jars. I was tired, hungry and thirsty and little irritated. This was worse than not being able to draw. Mom could see the disappointment on my face but she could not afford to lose hope. We went to a next home, asked for water and asked if we could eat our tiffin lunch there. My mother was excellent conversationalist. The woman was chatty too. They found some common connection from our very big family tree which I could not understand even that time, but the link was just enough for them to continue the friendly conversation. They started talking about their children - favorite topic of all mothers. My mom always talked more about my painting than school as she thought my paintings would compensate for my bad grades.

I wasn't really paying attention to their conversation as I was busy looking at the décor of the room. Things were not expensive but whoever had chosen those pieces must have had a pretty great taste in art. That beautifully painted vase just looked perfect at that spot. If it was moved even an inch away then it would have ruined its chemistry with painting on the wall. The vase had painting of Radha and lord Krishna sitting on a swing in a garden. They were not looking at each other, but were looking in the same direction. Like they didn't had to look at each other to understand each other. Their silence spoke for them. It was just beautiful. The painter should have been a passionate artist to be able to show that unseen love and chemistry.

And then there was a painting on the wall. A man was sitting at the bank of a river. The serenity of landscape was enriched by the beautiful huge trees, the polished stones, flying birds, and a bridge to go across to the other side. I loved the positive vibe the landscape depicted. Freshness of the color scheme enhanced its beauty. I envied the man sitting at the shore, I wanted to be at his place to distract myself from the tension.  I went to take a closer look.

“Aunty, can I see the painting closely? It looks really very pleasant and beautiful.”

“Go ahead dear, but don’t ask me anything about it, I’ve never understood a word from what my husband explained me about any painting.” she smiled.

As I took a closer look I could see there was a small wrecked ship at the other side of the river. It looked like it might have been there for years and nobody cared to move it or repair it. It was destined to be wrecked. Strangely, the man wasn't looking at anything from the beautiful sunset but he was staring at the broken ship. He didn't looked sad, but looked lonely. It was a mirage. The pleasant sunset which i had seen before, vanished from that painting, only thing I could notice now was the wrecked ship and a lonely man. It was brilliant.

My chain of thoughts was broken by sound of banging at the door. Someone was pushing the door to open it. Aunty opened the door, there was a drunk man at the door. He entered but didn't notice us. Like any drunkard jerk he asked her for more money. She begged him not to drink more and go inside. He started yelling at her and started looking everywhere for the money. He turned the room upside down. The room was a wreck now. He couldn't find anything so he rushed back with intention of hitting aunty, when suddenly I saw my mother holding his hand in the air. She gave him a tight slap. He collapsed. The man got up, my mom rushed to me to protect me from him and was ready to again hit him if she had to. To our surprise, He was crying like he was ashamed and helpless, he got up and went inside. I was looking at my mom with a proud feeling. She stood up for what was right.

The chatty and joyous aunty now looked embarrassed with a strange quietness on her face. This was probably a routine to her. Her husband was an artist. The painting and vase in living room were his only work left which he had not traded for money for drinks. Those two pieces were too close to his heart. According to aunty, he was a quite a happy man 2-3 years back when they had just started the family. He always painted and tried explaining her his art but she never had time or energy or artistic view to understand him. As the years passed, the communication had almost stopped. She thought that he had lost interest in her and he was having an affair. He stopped painting after he painted the landscape on the wall. They fought a lot over this. He stopped talking to her, their kids and even to his artist friends. He finally went into clinical depression which was worsened by drinking. He used to be sober occasionally, but she had either given up on him or accepted that this reality was never going to change. My mom told her to let us know in case she needed any help.

We went back home, I had understood very little from whole story at that point of time ,but important thing was that my mother was my hero that day. Mom never told me anything about life’s lessons, she just lived her life the way she wanted me to live mine.

I am the one who lived the most here, but truth is that I didn't live half of the life the way my mother did.

Anu was excited “Mrs. Sarpotdar, I loved the story and especially the way you told it.”

Mrs. Sarpotdar smiled, “Being a grandmother really helps”

Suman murmured “Loneliness in the crowd.”

#13 asked with a straight face, “By the way Mrs. Sarpotdar, did you pass? What was the result?”

Mrs. Sarpotdar laughed “Yes, with flying colors, I’d got 52%”

#13 wrote some score against Mrs. Sarpotdar’s name, “Well congratulations! Suman, you are next.”

Suman was as confused as Mrs. Sarpotdar was, but not because she could not pick a memory, she was afraid if she could make it look like happy memory. It was last good memory of a childhood for her.

Suman had come a long way, she was born in a very poor family. Her father was a clerk in court and a farmer. She was the eldest daughter with 2 other siblings. She was a very bright and smart student. Mother was a typical mother who was worried about making both ends meet. She wanted Suman to be at home and take care of her siblings, learn the household work rather than going to school. Her mother thought that these qualities will compensate for her daughter’s not-so-good looking face at the time of marriage. Suman loved being at home and do daily chores but she used to go to school to avoid looking at her mother’s worried face all the time. Suman thought as if her mother was angry with her for inheriting father’s look rather than hers. Suman had almost become atheist and hated God for doing this to her, but she didn't realize hatred for god was acceptance of his existence in a way. God had been really hard on her. Like he gave a responsibility of creating Suman to an inexperienced low confidence fresher assistant. Couldn't he offer even one good feature - good shape, flawless skin, shiny hair, bright eyes, sharp nose, proportionate lips, or good voice? She struggled her whole life making up for these features with her hard work and sincerity in academics.

Suman started reliving the memory she cherished.

It was the year of my 9th grade. I was feeling very lazy and was in no mood to go to school. My mother woke me up at 6 AM to get ready for the school which used to start at 10 o’clock. Getting ready was not a four-hour-task for a girl like me, however I had to walk 5 kilometers one way every day for school. The super reliable bus service was not at all affordable to us.

I was almost ready and was leaving for school. Aunty who lived next door asked me to call my mom and they talked something in lowest possible level of volume. My mom told me that she had to go with aunty to take care of some important work in next village and will be back by evening. I was relieved that I didn't have to walk and go to school since my youngest sister who was 3 years old, needed me in absence of mom. Brother was already ready and had left for school. Father left with my mother and now the house was all to me and my kid sister for whole day. Her name was Sarita but I used to call her Chinu. She was the only person who was totally happy with me. Mom was always worried about me getting married, father worried about me passing out from school and getting a job to earn my own dowry, younger brother was in 7th grade who was jealous of me for getting good grades in school and setting high bar for him. Chinu had absolutely no expectations from me.

Chinu used to be at her best behavior only if she got a good sleep, so I decided not to wake her up. I went to the backyard. I watered the plants. We had huge trees one of tamarind and one of mango. There was wooden swing attached to one of the branches. It was there since generation of my great great grandmother. The backyard used to just light up with freshness when sun rays fall on the flowers. I just sat there for some time with a hot cup of tea in my hand. The swing was my favorite place. It was near the house yet far from it. It was my comfort zone. I had this funny feeling that swing used to understand me. I used to sing songs, write poems, read books, and study, basically do everything on that swing. The rhythm of the swing used to match my mood. It was literally my mood swing. Later when I grew up and started looking for logic in each and every damn thing, I realized it was just me who used to move the swing as per my mood. I killed the magic in that swing. I still blame myself for destroying those fantasies of my own little world.

                                                               

My mother didn't let me play on the swing since 7th grade. She told me that I was a grown up and now climbing trees and playing on swing didn't suit for that age especially for girls. But today, she was not at home so I couldn't resist to free myself from the obligations. I had stopped hating my mother for keeping me under the radar all the time, I could only sympathize her now. She was doing her best for giving me best future which she could think of. It was not her fault that her thinking was fenced by society norms and her horizon was limited by the natural motherly instincts of protecting me from the world. She just wanted me to be happy but she didn't know what my happiness was.

I was very curious about motherly instincts. I was not sure if those instincts came naturally or get developed over time because other people expect you to have them. Absence of those instincts surely troubles a woman and makes her question her completeness. I don’t know what it was, maybe the thoughts about mom, or the swing, or fresh breeze or colorful backyard, I started joining words to form a small poem about the motherhood. I was happy with my first four lines till I saw Chinu standing in the backyard door and crying as if she saw a ghost. Maybe it was because she saw no one around when she woke up, especially mom. Well, being alone is like seeing a ghost, isn’t it?

I ran to her and asked if she was hungry. She stopped crying, nodded and asked me to pick her up. We went inside and brushed her teeth. Mom used to be angry since Chinu used her tantrums only on her and not me. Chinu was always very happy to be with me since I sang her songs, read stories, and let her play on the swing as long as she wanted to. It was one of the best days I had in long time.

In the afternoon, we both were so tired, I badly needed to take a nap. I forced Chinu to sleep. When I woke up after an hour, Chinu was nowhere to be found. I got up in total panic mode and ran to the backyard. She wasn’t there. I searched every little corner of the home but no luck. My brain was frozen and I could not think where she might have gone. Like every insecure human mind, all bad thoughts started occupying my mind. I was sitting and crying for 5 mins, I was clueless how to handle this.I knocked at neighbor’s door without realizing aunty had gone out with my mother. To my surprise Harish, Aunty’s son opened the door. He was 4 years elder than me, so he probably had an off at college that day. He was my friend till 4th standard, but later our mothers didn’t like our friendship and I thought he was ashamed to be seen with me since his friends made fun of me as ugly friend.

He asked me in and asked about what the matter was. I explained him the blunder I did. He assured me that there was no need to be scared and he will help me to find Chinu. Somehow I trusted him. We both decided to first search the entire house again. He climbed up stairs to check the attique. With no luck, we went out and checked each and every home in the area. Everyone was taking their afternoon nap, so no one was outside and had seen Chinu going anywhere. Since it was a village, everyone offered to help and told me that they will also check around. I used to gather myself together every five minutes and burst into tears again. I was a total mess while Harish was very calm and supportive. I don’t know what I would have done without him that day. I broke down, sat on the stairs outside one of the homes and asked Harish if she might have gone to broken well and fallen off inside. He could not deny the possibility, so he decided he will go and check.

He asked me to stay there. Every minute he was gone felt like an hour. The thought about my parent’s reaction had not touched my mind. I was too worried about Chinu. I was scared to death to lose the most favorite person of mine. I was terrified to be alone. Harish came back all wet, but he was alone. Obviously he could not find her there. We both didn't know what to do next. We sat there for another hour where I kept blaming myself and Harish convincing me that it could have happened to anyone. Harish wanted to go to Taluka so that he can inform Police. I wanted to accompany him but there was no bus at this time, he had to go on his bicycle. He sked another neighbor to take care of me and left. It would have taken him at least 2-3 hours to go to Taluka place and come back.

I was surprised that Harish was back in just an hour. Chinu was not with him. My heart started racing, there was definitely a bad news, why he would not go to Taluka and come back. He parked his bicycle and he was out of breath, he was smiling, he kept his hand on my shoulder and told me Chinu was fine and there is no need to worry. I had convinced myself so much that she was not coming back , . I could not believe that she was fine for a minute. Apparently, Chinu went on road and hurt her leg. The school teacher who was transferred to the village just 2 days ago, found her and didn’t know whom Chinu belonged to. He took Chinu to Doctor in the next village which is on the way to Taluka. Harish was asking people on his way to Taluka, so he got to know about this.  He could not get Chinu on the bicycle as her leg was hurt badly.  He had rushed back so that he can tell me.

I was definitely relieved from the tension, but I felt really happy inside, the way I used to feel while playing on the swing reciting the poems. I insisted Harish to take me to see her. I just looked at Chinu and my world was upside down. I was crying and laughing at the same time and Chinu was just confused with my expression. I hugged her so tight, she started crying. We took her home. I made tea for me and Harish. I could not thank him enough. We went to backyard and sat in that little garden, it was almost evening. Chinu was sitting on my lap. I was feeding her favorite fruit - mango. Chinu had it all over her face. I and Harish started talking about the early days when we had so much fun. We talked and talked about our other friends, he told me about his college. He asked me if I still write my silly poems. I laughed. I recited couple of them to him and he really liked it. He asked me which one was my favorite. I recited the lines I wrote than morning about motherhood. I didn’t realize Harish was staring at me. I finished the poem and looked up at him for his reaction. He just looked right at me and said “That is beautiful”. I blushed, it was first time someone had used that word for me.

It was my first experience of motherly instinct for Chinu. I think Harish loved that motherly bond between me and Chinu more than my poem or me.

Mrs. Sarpotdar was moved by the Suman’s memory, “Miss. Suman, the memory was definitely worth sharing, I wish you would have written and published it, your students must have been very lucky to have wise literature professor like you.”

“I wish I had a sibling. I always asked my mom how to get one when I was a kid!” Anu said.

#13 wrote some score against Suman’s name “Nicely told. I am impressed as you chose something so close to your heart.”

#13 was ready with his next question, but he saw all the three ladies thinking about something so he decided to give them a moment.