Through the mists of time

it was a cloudy Monday morning. A five-year old, with an orange-black bag on her back, and a red mango water bottle dangling from her neck—with wide limpid eyes, dragged the few steps from her doorstep to the car standing at the gate—clutching a father’s hand. It was a distance that on other days this kid could cover easily with a hop, skip and jump.As her mother dressed her in an odd grey  skirt and a white shirt (and even tied a red tie with a black elastic band around her neck—oh! the tie was so bad (the black elastic pressed at the depression of her throat) it was clear that they were not going a-visiting…indeed, today was different. Today, she almost tripped over as her tall father strode, holding her hand. As she looked up to her tall(long actually, because the ladder too was long) it occurred to her that  baba nowadays seemed to grow shorter—she wondered why as she looked upto see her father’s face—nice shaved chin and two holes that were his nose—he had such big holes it made her giggle each time, hers were nice and small,; but he seemed dark today…oh! he was standing against the daylight …but how could there be daylight when the sun was hiding behind the clouds …I think they will tell that too in school, she thought—over the last few days, each of her umpteen questions were answered with the same ‘wait till you go to school, then you will know everything’s-- but suddenly the thought of school clouded her mind…school meant getting up early:and she lo-v-ed sleeping till late--when the sun was frowning angrily on everyone outside, and inside maa was busy with her books. And she could have as many ices as she wished; and then there was Minu too. You don't know Minu? Why Bina ayah's niece, that tikli whose nose was running all the time, like the twisted water tap outside the servant quarters. Minu was three-year-old. they played  house-house, all the time, and always Minu was the servant; and she could do anything she wanted. It was so nice...And now, a frown increasingly clouded above her brow, Minu can play all the time and I have to go to school. The world blurred before her eyes...


"Wow what a beginning!" Swati exclaimed, "Megha you're seriously good. Just work on this, and you'll have such a good novel. Seriously man! Let's do one thing, let's call ..."
"Hell no" Megha snatched away the phone , "It's too early to call Ashok. This is, just, something that came out last night, in a flow. That doesn't mean this will be a good story. I don't even know what to do next".
"Aw, c'mon Megh. Don't say this. A talented writer like you, saying that you don't know what to write next is....I mean..silly!"
"No, sweetheart, try and understand. This is not something I cooked out of thin air. No. This is somebody's story, a life, a world is at stake. I can't simply write all this for the world to read. I told you, it's.. something that came out in one gush. You may even say that I tore a few pages out of my own life and placed it before you..."
Swati was silent. A thin soft veil of distance descended, as Megha drifted into her past
a phone rang somewhere
"You know Swati, this is to do with my past, some people from my past"
 a pause "...whom I love..."
the shrill phone tried in vain to pierce the silence

a tear rolled out of an eye, and quietly kissed the floor...   

Realising that she was now far away, Swati softly closed the door behind her.

(to be continued...)