A Blanket on A cold Night
He was in his home. The steps by the riverside were his home for as long as he could remember. During the day he would wander off to different tourist spots showing them juggling tricks which always brought in enough coins for his daily bread and tea. The day he could have all the five balls in the air together, it would mean he could buy his favourite dish from the corner food stall.
It was his favourite past time to stare at the river flowing, through seasons, calendars, decades ,just doing its job, flowing with the same spirit. He smiled, he too grew up much the same way. Abandoned on the steps, found on the steps, taken away from the steps and then coming back home to the steps.
A boatman had found this baby wrapped in rags whimpering, too weak to even cry. He took the baby home and made place in his already crowded life. His wife protested, one more mouth to feed but her heart softened seeing the baby's tiny pale face. They made room. He grew up fast. The first lesson he learnt was that the river was their lifeline. Every morning he prayed to the river along with hundreds and sometimes millions of pilgrims who come here for a holy dip.
Yes it was tourist season again and he had learnt that it meant fish for lunch, unlike other days when potato and boiled watery lentil was all that they would have on their platter. But this time it was missing, his young mind could not comprehend why. He heard the old man saying to his wife that his boat had become old like him and tourists seldom called for him. Standing by the river he had seen the newer boats, brightly coloured, cushioned seats and smart boatmen alluring tourist with their accented English. Secretly he had pledged, standing on the steps that he would get one for his father when he grows up. The river was his witness .
Even before the season had ended the boatman decided to go to his village and join his brother in cotton cultivation. All was packed, their little hutment fetched him some money. They all went to the riverside to pray one last time. The old man had tears shimmering in his eyes. The river had been his life for eternity and today he has to move on, bowing to new times. The young boy felt an unusual tug at his heart as he walked up the steps. This is where he belonged he felt. His wet footprints on the steps also told him so. He stayed back.
The first night on the steps he realised that he was not alone. He had quite a family. Some were hostile and asked him to stay away from their designated bedroom! He smiled and found a spot to call his own. Sleeping under the vast blue sky with a river flowing dilligently had a thrill of its own. Who cares what tomorrow brings, for today it is goodnight.
Well into his sleep, he felt someone pushing him to snuggle under his cover. He let out a yell and it was answered by a yelp. A dog seeking warmth. He extended his patched cover and silently the dog settled in. We all need to co- exist were his last thoughts.
Now a young man and a deft juggler. Had learnt to enthrall the crowd with his humour and his tricks. He too could now speak accented English, never mind the grammar. Tourists loved it and coins jingled into the tin cup which he would take around after a trick. Evenings he would get back and relax in his home. The cool breeze blowing across the river had a balmy effect. He would sit crosslegged arms spread out, sipping tea. His friend, the dog would be munching into biscuits. Both existed in perfect harmony. The boats bobbing up and down with their twinkling lights would often pull his heart strings. He had wanted to buy his father a boat but life did not give him time. He would look away but the blaring music from the boats told him how song of the river was getting replaced by loud music that was the order of the day.
It was winter again. Nights were beginning to turn chilly. He needed another blanket but that would mean ripping his coat pocket where he had neatly stiched the notes away. That was afterall his safty vault! Tonight was really cold. He was shivering and his friend of many seasons was curled up beside. The dog had aged and was a little under the weather for the past few days. "Come" he called out to the it as he went towards the corner stall for dinner. The dog did not follow today. He had his dinner and called out again. Maybe it had gone to sleep. He walked back to make his bed. He pushed the dog lightly, it looked up with pain in his eyes.
The look told me him something. He pulled out his coat in one swift jerking motion and ripped the stitches he had once carefully sewn. Pulled out the rolled up notes and ran up the stairs. If he makes it fast enough, he might still find a shop open. Panting he reached the shop selling blankets. The shopkeeper was winding up for the day but finding a buyer at this hour was surprised. Exchanging a few words, he pushed the price into the shopkeeper's hand and snatched the blanket not waiting for it to be put in a bag.
He raced back.Flew down the stairs and spread the blanket on the dog. It looked up at the sudden warmth. He was relieved. He could not allow one more wish to remain unfulfilled and the river being his mute witness. He sat and watched the river flow on. Life too is just this, flowing on.
Today his wish also got fulfilled on the steps. He curled into the dog's blanket, happy at not having missed the boat this time.
It was his favourite past time to stare at the river flowing, through seasons, calendars, decades ,just doing its job, flowing with the same spirit. He smiled, he too grew up much the same way. Abandoned on the steps, found on the steps, taken away from the steps and then coming back home to the steps.
A boatman had found this baby wrapped in rags whimpering, too weak to even cry. He took the baby home and made place in his already crowded life. His wife protested, one more mouth to feed but her heart softened seeing the baby's tiny pale face. They made room. He grew up fast. The first lesson he learnt was that the river was their lifeline. Every morning he prayed to the river along with hundreds and sometimes millions of pilgrims who come here for a holy dip.
Yes it was tourist season again and he had learnt that it meant fish for lunch, unlike other days when potato and boiled watery lentil was all that they would have on their platter. But this time it was missing, his young mind could not comprehend why. He heard the old man saying to his wife that his boat had become old like him and tourists seldom called for him. Standing by the river he had seen the newer boats, brightly coloured, cushioned seats and smart boatmen alluring tourist with their accented English. Secretly he had pledged, standing on the steps that he would get one for his father when he grows up. The river was his witness .
Even before the season had ended the boatman decided to go to his village and join his brother in cotton cultivation. All was packed, their little hutment fetched him some money. They all went to the riverside to pray one last time. The old man had tears shimmering in his eyes. The river had been his life for eternity and today he has to move on, bowing to new times. The young boy felt an unusual tug at his heart as he walked up the steps. This is where he belonged he felt. His wet footprints on the steps also told him so. He stayed back.
The first night on the steps he realised that he was not alone. He had quite a family. Some were hostile and asked him to stay away from their designated bedroom! He smiled and found a spot to call his own. Sleeping under the vast blue sky with a river flowing dilligently had a thrill of its own. Who cares what tomorrow brings, for today it is goodnight.
Well into his sleep, he felt someone pushing him to snuggle under his cover. He let out a yell and it was answered by a yelp. A dog seeking warmth. He extended his patched cover and silently the dog settled in. We all need to co- exist were his last thoughts.
Now a young man and a deft juggler. Had learnt to enthrall the crowd with his humour and his tricks. He too could now speak accented English, never mind the grammar. Tourists loved it and coins jingled into the tin cup which he would take around after a trick. Evenings he would get back and relax in his home. The cool breeze blowing across the river had a balmy effect. He would sit crosslegged arms spread out, sipping tea. His friend, the dog would be munching into biscuits. Both existed in perfect harmony. The boats bobbing up and down with their twinkling lights would often pull his heart strings. He had wanted to buy his father a boat but life did not give him time. He would look away but the blaring music from the boats told him how song of the river was getting replaced by loud music that was the order of the day.
It was winter again. Nights were beginning to turn chilly. He needed another blanket but that would mean ripping his coat pocket where he had neatly stiched the notes away. That was afterall his safty vault! Tonight was really cold. He was shivering and his friend of many seasons was curled up beside. The dog had aged and was a little under the weather for the past few days. "Come" he called out to the it as he went towards the corner stall for dinner. The dog did not follow today. He had his dinner and called out again. Maybe it had gone to sleep. He walked back to make his bed. He pushed the dog lightly, it looked up with pain in his eyes.
The look told me him something. He pulled out his coat in one swift jerking motion and ripped the stitches he had once carefully sewn. Pulled out the rolled up notes and ran up the stairs. If he makes it fast enough, he might still find a shop open. Panting he reached the shop selling blankets. The shopkeeper was winding up for the day but finding a buyer at this hour was surprised. Exchanging a few words, he pushed the price into the shopkeeper's hand and snatched the blanket not waiting for it to be put in a bag.
He raced back.Flew down the stairs and spread the blanket on the dog. It looked up at the sudden warmth. He was relieved. He could not allow one more wish to remain unfulfilled and the river being his mute witness. He sat and watched the river flow on. Life too is just this, flowing on.
Today his wish also got fulfilled on the steps. He curled into the dog's blanket, happy at not having missed the boat this time.
posted by Autumn Leaf | 10:53 PM
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