Let me tell you a story today, a story of a boy, who lived in the woods. He was alone in this world, his grandmother had died when he was very small. That was the only human touch he remembered in a long while. All around him were mountains and trees. The forest had trekkers, occasionally, who seemed to enjoy his forest home. He had the company of his dog who was also his best friend. He lived off on the river stream ample with fishes and the seasonal berries were his favorites.
Sometimes, he would go down town in case he needed something which he called his house. It was nothing more than a ill assembled set of branches given a shape like a house. The roof was made of shafts covered with tree branches and the leaves so much so that the house looked like an integral part of the forest. He remembered his trips to the down town with his grandmother to the store every month. His grandmother used to live off on the alms and freebees given by the travellers and the boy had learnt the same. He had also built a small tea stall infront of his house which used to engage a lot of passerby during the chilly season.
The visits to down town were a remarkable feat for the boy, for he didn't seem to gel with the down town people. With the small sum of money or goods that earned from the passerby and travellers by tea and selling fish, he used to get chores for his survival. However, every trip to the down town was carefully planned, He would wear a shirt that day, and also tie around his head a towel as if it is a turban. His legs would be covered with one or the other piece of cloth often donated by the tourists and passerby. He would look at himself in the broken piece of mirror and comb his hair locks with his slender long fingers.
There was another reason for all this ritual, a reason which would make him stammer at the shop, his eyes looking dreeamy and his throat getting choked - she is beautiful, that's all he could think of whenever she was infront of her , angrily asking - " will you say something , what you want or should i call dada ?" Her voice armed with the anger would just seem like a lullaby to him, before dada would come and break his heavenly dream. He never understood why he was unable to speak in front of her. He wanted to say so many things to her, tell her how he can just grab a fish out of the flowing water, climb trees with ease and pick up the sweetest berry , how he can throw stones in the stream which would jump more than 8 times before dissapearing into the river bed....but he couldn't speak even " 1 kg sugar" infront of her.
Every month, the ritual would be repeated and he just left the downtown cursing himself, why he can't get the courage to talk to the girl. Often in his dreams he would see the same girl, bright and big eyes, neatly done two locks of hair and the yellow bangle in her hand. It had been three years when he had first seen the girl and still in 36 times he met her, he had only been able to stammer in reality.
The boy, although with no formal education had learnt his ways with the visitors and travellors and his memory helped him retain the counting he had once learnt from a trekker and also a bit of english from the tourist guides, who seemed to rever in the ruins of the fort on the top of the hill. He had been there many times with the tour groups helping them with the luggage and getting money and food in reward.He had also got few books from kids and their parents and despite his best efforts he could just look at the pictures and draw faint connection to the letters along side.
Today was a special day again, one where he would see "simi", yes that was her name, her dada used to call her. He was looking good in his green towel turban and humming a broken tune from his grandmom. His eyes were looking for simi, when dada called out " what do you want". He recited the monthly rationing he needed - his eyes still searching for the bright eyes and the twin pony tailed and the cute frown. He could find none.
While getting the ration, dada said - "kisko dhoond raha hai" , he could just say ...." siiiiiiimm.." . "Woh tho gayi , shaher padhne ke liye, kuch kaam tha.............."
and the rest was just noise to his ears...
He looked in disbelief on the road up hill, which everytime he climbed up heartily with the hope that he could come back and see her again.
It seemed so trecherous now ......
---------------------------------------------------To be continued----------------------------------------
Sometimes, he would go down town in case he needed something which he called his house. It was nothing more than a ill assembled set of branches given a shape like a house. The roof was made of shafts covered with tree branches and the leaves so much so that the house looked like an integral part of the forest. He remembered his trips to the down town with his grandmother to the store every month. His grandmother used to live off on the alms and freebees given by the travellers and the boy had learnt the same. He had also built a small tea stall infront of his house which used to engage a lot of passerby during the chilly season.
The visits to down town were a remarkable feat for the boy, for he didn't seem to gel with the down town people. With the small sum of money or goods that earned from the passerby and travellers by tea and selling fish, he used to get chores for his survival. However, every trip to the down town was carefully planned, He would wear a shirt that day, and also tie around his head a towel as if it is a turban. His legs would be covered with one or the other piece of cloth often donated by the tourists and passerby. He would look at himself in the broken piece of mirror and comb his hair locks with his slender long fingers.
There was another reason for all this ritual, a reason which would make him stammer at the shop, his eyes looking dreeamy and his throat getting choked - she is beautiful, that's all he could think of whenever she was infront of her , angrily asking - " will you say something , what you want or should i call dada ?" Her voice armed with the anger would just seem like a lullaby to him, before dada would come and break his heavenly dream. He never understood why he was unable to speak in front of her. He wanted to say so many things to her, tell her how he can just grab a fish out of the flowing water, climb trees with ease and pick up the sweetest berry , how he can throw stones in the stream which would jump more than 8 times before dissapearing into the river bed....but he couldn't speak even " 1 kg sugar" infront of her.
Every month, the ritual would be repeated and he just left the downtown cursing himself, why he can't get the courage to talk to the girl. Often in his dreams he would see the same girl, bright and big eyes, neatly done two locks of hair and the yellow bangle in her hand. It had been three years when he had first seen the girl and still in 36 times he met her, he had only been able to stammer in reality.
The boy, although with no formal education had learnt his ways with the visitors and travellors and his memory helped him retain the counting he had once learnt from a trekker and also a bit of english from the tourist guides, who seemed to rever in the ruins of the fort on the top of the hill. He had been there many times with the tour groups helping them with the luggage and getting money and food in reward.He had also got few books from kids and their parents and despite his best efforts he could just look at the pictures and draw faint connection to the letters along side.
Today was a special day again, one where he would see "simi", yes that was her name, her dada used to call her. He was looking good in his green towel turban and humming a broken tune from his grandmom. His eyes were looking for simi, when dada called out " what do you want". He recited the monthly rationing he needed - his eyes still searching for the bright eyes and the twin pony tailed and the cute frown. He could find none.
While getting the ration, dada said - "kisko dhoond raha hai" , he could just say ...." siiiiiiimm.." . "Woh tho gayi , shaher padhne ke liye, kuch kaam tha.............."
and the rest was just noise to his ears...
He looked in disbelief on the road up hill, which everytime he climbed up heartily with the hope that he could come back and see her again.
It seemed so trecherous now ......
---------------------------------------------------To be continued----------------------------------------
1 comment:
Good write up again..
Ur story gave rise to the urge of hearing more about the characters....
Hope to have the next episode soon.
Post a Comment