Part-I
His brown eyes seemed bigger now, the lush pink glaze has
now died out, his tooth has started to dig its way out of his gums but his
clothes still reeked of the sharp-tasting smell of sulphur and sulphates. His
crib was in a sordid condition, the edge of it broken at one end, the hinges
creaked, whose sound would be audible with every jolt that his mother gave him,
yet he lay there with his staggering eyes fixed on the ceiling above. The room
had only one window to its left side and a door, the door also creaked with
every movement and all this was included in an area of 10 square meters. It was
his house, if that is what houses looked like. He was just 8 months in this
world and already life had given up on him. Milk was his staple food and the
water was so dirty that before boiling the water, she had to cleanse it using
ground-earth techniques and yet it was insalubrious.
But, what could she have possibly done? With her husband
working on a meager income at a local fireworks factory and the state still
deserting their demands, there was very little hope to cling on to. Her youth
had already eluded her, with the fine cracks in the hands and feet pretty
noticeable, the skin had started to sag down forming an ill-looking persona of
her; the tattered red sari, which was knitted at multiple places only added to
her ill-looking charm and she hadn’t mentioned it to her husband but she had
already started seeing things bit hazily, and she was only 27.She was one among
many mothers who cursed themselves for bringing their children in this wretched
world, because cursing was the only thing that they could afford to spend
without thinking about the consequences.
His father, Harish, was a quiet person, rather beat-down
with this work of his. He had been a part of this for a long time, for Harish’s
father was into the same business. A look at his eyes, and you would see the calmness
that lingered around. His voice was cracked but it still held the depth of his
calmness. Needless to say, he was in a much worse condition than Kamala, his
wife. With only one eye remaining -or whatever remained of it- he was
practically a handicap; losing his eye in a work mishap that left many workers
without limbs, where he was considered lucky, lucky enough to have his vision disabled
rather than limbs. That night he thanked his lucky stars for keeping him alive
while others cursed theirs for keeping them alive. In his younger days, he was
a child whose hopes were free like the kites in the sky, he dreamt of building
a palace out of his hopes and he wanted the world to know about him, about his
story and about his family but fate had other plans. Time crippled his
thoughts, brought an arsenal of distresses to break his castle but they were
not enough, so time did what it did best, took away the remaining time from his
father’s life-clock and then hell rained over. Without a job, he and his mother
were left to rot, the people they knew shut their doors on their face and what
remained of him was his will to fight, his will to not succumb to the pressure
and so he found a job somehow, in the same factory where his father worked and
slowly and slowly, he traded his dreams for his mother and their livelihood and
then the fate smiled, satisfied with the job. He didn’t want the same thing for
his son, Azad. He wanted him to dream, to achieve what he dreamed and then
guide the others. He wanted him to believe in himself and that there is a place
beyond this horizon of sulphur dust. He wanted him to be free, free to dream
without the fear of being toppled over and so he named him, Azad.
*-*-*-*-*
“The dal tastes good today, what did you put in it Kamala?”
“Sulphur, I think, you want some more, Harish?”
“Ah, why such a harsh tongue Kamala? I know you are not
happy with what I provide but do we have an option here?” said a calm and
composed Harish.
“I am sorry, I was just thinking about Azad here. I don’t
think he deserves such fate as ours. We must’ve sinned in our previous lifetime
to get thrown in a life like this, don’t you think?” said Kamala, wiping the
tears from her eyes.
“Now, don’t cry. Let us cherish what we have got. We at
least have a roof over our head and manage a two-time meal, plus if we had
sinned in our previous life, do you think, god would have been so kind to give
us an angel in disguise? On the contrary, I think he wants to see, if we can
appreciate what he has given us. I tell you kamala, Azad will fly one day, so
high and so fast that even the clouds would have to look up and the wind will
have to chase him. It’s in his name, Kamala.”
“You always keep on saying things like this, and even you
know how shallow that sounds! We are two now and we eat so less. What do you
think will happen when Azad grows up, hah?” asked Kamala with vehement.
“He will eat from my share.” said a smiling Harish.
“And if he eats from your share, then what will you eat? And
if you won’t eat then how will you live and if you won’t live then who will
provide for us?” said a teary-eyed Kamala and the droplets of the tears flow
down her cheek and fall on the ground with the sound of each drop hitting the
ground audible, such was the silence in the air.
Harish cleared his throat and tried to conceal the redness
in his eyes and then in his usual self says, “Let’s be grateful for what we
have today and not think of the future, for you never know what it holds for
us. For, every tear that you have shed today in sadness, I promise, you will be
shedding more in happiness when Azad gets older and achieves the greatness that
he is entitled to. No one can take that away from him, not you, not me, not
god.”
She wipes down her tears and pours herself some water and
then begins to eat. With every bite off of the chapatti, she looks at her
son-Azad-felling sad and determined at the same moment and they sit there
completing the meal while the moon-light bursts in the room through the window
and falls directly on Azad’s face, who is still looking at the ceiling, making
imaginary gestures in the air using his hands and squealing in happiness
sometimes, while his mother keeps looking at him and his father eats in
silence, thinking, thinking about what he said and how much he actually meant.
The light goes out in an hour or so and Harish cries; the
first time since his mother passed away; he forgot what the tears tasted like,
so he let the drops flow and reach his lips and slowly he passes into the unconsciousness
of the sleep. He remembers something, rather someone whom he had met years ago;
the three-legged man......
To be continued...............
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