Sunday, November 23, 2008

Treasure.

A clang had been enough to excite the entire village. The news had spread like wild fire. Rumors had also been doing the rounds. Everyone was talking about it. He had struck something. Some said it might be a trunk full of gold. Some were of the opinion that it might be a bag full of diamonds. Each one of us had a spectacular view on the contents of the trunk. Me and my friends wished for some nice toys. Everyone had gathered around the site while a small metal box had been dug out.

It was an usual Saturday morning. Most of the people were working in the fields. A few were working in the pottery shop. There was a long queue outside the shop and the shop keeper was trying to meet everyone's demands in the best way he could. The fisher man had just come to the village. We were busy playing.

At that very moment we saw people flocking towards the fields keeping all their work aside. Out of curiosity we mingled with them and that's when we heard them talking about the trunk and the gold and the diamonds.

The entire village had gathered to witness the opening ceremony of the metal box. Some were happy for him. Some were jealous. A few dreaming about finding the box themselves. Some planning to dig their fields to try and find a big fortune. Some doubting the character of the man. Each group of people showing a different emotion.

All the eyes were now turned on him while he opened the box. First to come out were a few amulets of silver. Then two golden bangles. He was smiling. Every one was expecting some diamonds to appear when he held held out something that looked like a paper. There was no smile on his face anymore. He had dropped the metal box and also dropped the ornaments . As the box fell out came a few pieces of cloth. There were tears in his eyes. But he seemed to be happiest man in the world. He was smiling again with tears still flowing from his eyes. It was a photograph. He was meeting his parents after 19 years. It was the only one he had.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Gift.

It was announced that our gift for this year was to plant twenty three trees. One each for each child in the village. We were disappointed. I had been expecting some toys and so did the others. We were unhappy to receive the news and launched a strong protest to no avail. The annual gift day in our village had been a disaster for us.

Twenty three seedlings had been bought to the village. The soil had already been prepared for planting them. For days we had wondered why the digging was going on. Now we knew why. We were angry.

We had been coaxed into coming to the site where the trees would be planted. Each one of us was given one seedling and asked to plant it. We suddenly had a feeling of responsibility. The trees had been planted. Do we get any gifts now? someone asked half-heartedly. There was no reply.

It was our responsibility to make sure that our seedlings grew well. Every day we would visit the site and water the plants. We would check for pests and weeds. Each one was excited when there was even slightest of progress. We had all cried when one seedling had died. For the first time we were together and united in what we were doing. Toys had always divided us with each one craving for the others toy. But this time it was different. This was a collective effort. We had even forgotten which seedling belonged to whom.

Today the trees we had planted and cared for have grown big. The village gets immense benefits from them. To us it taught the meaning of collective effort and unity. I was reading an article in the news paper which talked about celebrities throwing extravagant parties when my thoughts went back in time.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Visitor.

It was well past mid night. The wind was howling and the rains were pouring down. Me and the village elder were guarding the fields. We were sitting in a small unfurnished shed with two chairs and a lamp. From far away we could see a dim source of light approaching us. Who could it be at this hour? Would it be a person in need of help? or Would it be someone with malicious intent?

A bullock cart halted in front of the shed. An old man walked up to the shed. I wanted to go to the city in a hurry, he said. But the rains had made his progress slow. He was looking for a place to rest until the rains stopped. We walked him to the village temple and asked the old man to take a nap until the rains relent.

The two of us were walking back towards the shed. The village elder seemed unsettled. He was in a deep thought. The old man looks like a decent person. Why do you look worried? I asked. He was still immersed in a deep thought. I asked the same question again. He seemed to shrug off his thoughts. Oh nothing he said. But I could still see some doubts creeping on his face. A thought of old man being a thief had crossed my mind.

We were back in the shed and siting quietly for a hour or so. The village elder was not looking himself. He seemed lost. Doesn't the old man look too old to be driving a bullock cart at this hour? I casually mentioned intending it to be a pun. Then it had struck him. Too old. Ah! he said. Why had I not thought about it?

We were running towards the temple. I didn't have any clue as to why. But there was no bullock cart in sight. The old man had vanished. Lying on the floor was a bundle of money. The village elder looked stunned. Who was the old man? I asked.

We were in the library. In a long lost book I could see the picture of a freedom fighter who would have greatly resembled the old man if he had lived to see this day.

The entire village was working to renovate his bust that had been destroyed last year during the rains. I was taken sick for a few days but enjoyed every bit of the holiday.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Hunt.

A small portion of the field was dug up and the crops were destroyed. An emergency meeting had been called to prepare for the impending danger. A war time effort was launched to secure the fields from the wild boars. Everyone in the village was working tirelessly to prevent a catastrophe. Everywhere in the village people were discussing the incident that happened three years back when a sounder had destroyed the crops single-handedly.

A force had been assembled to make a preemptive strike. They had searched the forest for the entire day but returned empty handed. Every one was worried about what the night would bring. The memoirs of past were haunting the village.

I was accompanying one of the hunting parties consisting of two persons. I was too young to be there but I had managed to convinced them. It was thrill to be with them. Walking towards the field with them in the night and then climbing the tree and sit on the machan was an exhilarating experience. In the night sitting up on the tree and overlooking the below area was a dream come true.

It was late into the night and it all hush. The initial thrill had died down and I was bored. All the dreams of a tiger turning up were shattered. In the night the only sound that could be heard was me coughing out of boredom and then the ssshhh sound from the others asking me to keep quiet. I wanted to go home but no one was willing to accompany me. So I stayed there looking at the sky and waiting for the the time to fly by. But there were no shooting stars. I was ruing my luck. And then there was a strange noise.

Out had come a wild boar. The hunter in our group had in a flash lifted the riffle and aimed at the wild boar and we were eagerly waiting for him to fire. He had the reputation of never missing any target. But the bullet would not leave the gun. And then we realized what was going through his mind. It was a lone boar with three piglets. The boar looked right into our eyes and then looked at the piglets. How could he fire the bullet? Then the boar and the piglets were gone. They did not return the next day and the day after.

The hunter had killed an enemy soldier in his younger days. They said the enemy soldier had said something to the hunter on the death bed. Perhaps this was his remorse or perhaps his reprieve.

Videos