Monu's World: Mahe’s Brother
Monu and her friends sometimes had company when they played on the road in front of the row of houses where Monu and Raka lived side by side. This so called ‘company’ comprised of two children - Mahe and her brother Happy. These two were the offspring of a couple who were known as ‘family friends’ of Tinchu-Pinchu’s parents. At least that is what Tinchu went about telling everyone who asked. In reality Tinchu’s mom and Mahe’s father worked in the same office and to cement the acquaintance they belonged to the same regional state of India. Secretly, Monu believed that the families were probably related. But she never told anyone of this other than her best friend Meethi. After all best friends did not have secrets from each other, did they!
Tinchu and Happy were about the same age and were thick friends while Mahe was the same age as Raka, and this left poor little Pinchu as the youngest of the foursome. But they shared a good camaraderie and it so came about that whenever Mahe and her brother came visiting the foursome would venture out to play with Monu, Raka, Meethi and the rest of the kids. Moreover, Happy’s arrival had the effect of fortifying the group of Tinchu, Neeba, Shri and Radha much to Tinchu’s relief as he sometimes felt exasperated by being the only boy in an otherwise all-girl group. The girls all took unanimous decisions while he, more often than not, was left muttering in silent anger for being reduced to the mercy of the majority’s viewpoint when playing group games. So, by getting another boy in his group and one who shared his views too, Tinchu’s delight was always palpable and he wore it proudly too on his sleeve, much to the chagrin of the older girls who resentfully gave in when faced by the vociferous protestations of the two boys.
The group of the younger kids, on the other hand, was better balanced and more united in terms of teamwork. Although most of the decisions were taken by the trio of Monu, Meethi and Raka, they always listened to what Pinchu and Teepi has to say too. So, the addition of Mahe was simply an added bonus to them that they gladly accepted while having a firm conviction in the strength of their group.
Mahe was the silent type. She was couple of years older than Monu and had a shy, enchanting smile that showed off a set of pearly, white teeth when sometimes she was caught unawares and her smile broadened into an unexpected grin! Happy shared his sister’s smile but he was a tad more adventurous as well as boisterous, and tended to laugh freely and more often than his demure younger sister.
Left to themselves, the boys would bond together and all four - Raka, Tinchu-Pinchu and Happy - would engage in ‘boys’ games’ as Raka said, such as cricket, football, gilli-danda, kanchhe and tire racing. The latter involved tapping a bicycle tire with a wooden stick in order to make it roll along in front and then running after it tapping it all through to give the required momentum. The moment the tire lost balance and fell down the person lost his chance and the next boy took over. Monu had tried her hand at it but her efforts at controlling the tire fell woefully flat and she soon gave up, deciding instead to watch the boys of whom Raka seemed the most skillful. He used to expertly maneuver the tire and seemed to effortlessly propel it forward in front of him, his tongue peeking out from the side of his mouth as he ran after the tire to give the appearance of him trying to lick his lips intermittently. In those innocent days of the eighties, women’s lib had not taken root in this particular neighborhood and the children were content with their gender-based classification of the games, mainly because they never heard about terms like women’s cricket or women’s football. Their contentment regarding such a classification also arose from the fact that although certain games were meant for the boys the girls were never really excluded from them. So, if any of the girls wanted they were always free to join the boys and even got eager training techniques and tips from the boys. So, as far as games went the neighborhood was a pleasant democracy where the motto of ‘the more, the merrier’ was diligently followed.
So, it came about that rather than be mute spectators for long while the boys played, Monu, Meethi, Mahe and the rest of the girls would vociferously join in. The results were typically creative - a diluted form of Cricket called ‘One-Tip Cricket’, slower bowling speeds for the girl ‘batters’, and more sensitivity when it came to handling football for fear of hitting the girls too hard. There was no false sense of hurt pride, the girls took it as their right to expect this ‘discount’ from the boys’ side in the games. Of these games Monu really enjoyed ‘One-Tip Cricket’ where after the ball was hit the person trying to catch it was allowed more reaction time in the sense that he or she could catch it even if it hit the ground and bounced once. So, that one ‘tip’ was the discount that the girls enjoyed when playing Cricket with the boys. Another game she enjoyed playing with the boys was ‘Kanche’ where players had to mark out and hit with a marble accurately other marbles that were scattered carefully on a small limited area of the ground.
Then there were the other regular games like ‘Chhupan-Chhupai’, ‘Gallery’ and ‘Pitthoo’ where all the children played together and more players only meant more fun and enjoyment. Of these, ‘Pitthoo’ was Monu’s favorite while ‘Gallery’ came a close second.
Bothe Happy and Mahe were enthusiastic participants when it came to games and played fairly and sportingly. Happy, particularly ensured that the slippery Shri or the treacherous Neeba did not resort to cheating or did not get away if they did try any tricks. This was a good thing for the youngsters particularly, who were often at the receiving end of the trickery of the older kids where even the outspokenly un-biased Tinchu would sometimes be seen resorting to a white-lie or a sleight of hand in the blink of an eye when he thought no one was watching to uphold the interests of ‘his group’ - mainly the older kids. But when Happy was around none of the older kids including Tinchu, would dare exhibit their parlor tricks. And Happy’s sharp eye would not miss the little schemes of clever Radha either, though it was not often that she allowed herself the ‘fall-from-grace’ or ignominy of appearing to hide her misses or lapses and being guilty of an untruth, any of which was enough to label her a cheat. And Radha possessed too much pride to be seen as to stoop so low as to cheat. In her pristine world there was place only for those who exhibited strengths - strength of mind and spirit being top amongst them.
The arrival of Happy and Mahe on the scene at any given point would suddenly change the atmosphere all around. They made everything more colorful and fun and charged up everyone to give their beat and to refrain from giving off any negative vibes. So, the neighborhood always welcomed the times that Happy and Mahe came around. Both were soft-spoken and good-natured and just being around them was enough encouragement for the other kids to be at their best behavior too. And the resulting shouts of glee and squeals of excitement and delight along with the serious intonation of mock warnings issued by Happy and sometimes even by an inspired Tinchu as the ‘watchguards’ to keep the rest in check would make the air resound for a long time. It was as if the surroundings had come alive with these and a hundred other sounds that are the part and parcel of the unique environment that is created when children play with free spirits, unhindered enthusiasm and happiness unbounded.
To Monu, it seemed as if these visits by Mahe and Happy were few and far in between. She looked forward to the times that they came, and because it meant more kids to play with, her excitement only increased. And every time the clock would signal the hour for them to say goodbye until the next time, it always left her wistful and a tad sad. She would fervently wish that they stayed behind for a while longer so that they all could play for a little more time.
It was one such morning in the autumn of 198-. The air was full of expectation as if something big was about to happen. Monu was restless feeling that Mahe and Happy would come that day, and had stepped out to see if Raka was around. There was no wind which was unusual for that time of the year. The sides of the roads were full of dry leaves that had been falling since the past few weeks. Another couple of weeks and winter would be upon them. The bog Peepal tree by the red brick wall looked magnificent in its nakedness. It was as though it were stretching awake from slumber and readying to go somewhere leaving behind all its leaves that crackled below it whenever some passer by stepped on them.
As Monu rounded the bend in the road in front of her house, she spotted Raka. He was with a boy and had a look of disturbed disbelief plastered all over his face. When he saw her approach he signaled to the boy who quickly took off running in the direction of the Market area. “Kya hua?” she asked as Raka looked up. Poor Raka looked distinctly uncomfortable as if he wished he were miles away at that instant. Monu caught hold of his arm and shook him as if to make the words tumble out of his stubborn little mouth that wouldn’t open to reveal what was inside. Again she asked him what happened. He looked at her, something trying to stifle him and simultaneously burst forth from inside him, and as suddenly looked down. He couldn’t say the words, and then just as she started to shout at him for his silence, a sob escaped his pained face and a mumble, “Happy mar gaya”. Monu stared at him not quite hearing or perhaps comprehending what he was saying. The air around had suddenly started to feel chilly and she was aware of her breath coming short and hard. Trying to fist up and shove her soon-turning-icy fingers into her folded arms she just stood there looking at her dear friend’s face that had gone ashen gray.
They stood there for a long time. She trying to rub her fingers and blow on them to keep them warm and he with his fingers shoved tightly inside his trouser pockets. Suddenly they were interrupted by a loud horn. It was the neighbor from house number 75 on his scooter coming from the Market road and they jumped aside to let him pass. The motion perhaps broke the trance and they got back sensation in their minds. “Kya keh raha hai!” Monu’s eyes were as round as saucers and she looked as if she was bursting with questions. Incredulity, disbelief, shock, hurt, anger - all these emotions flitted across her face like processions in fast forward mode. “Haan.” Raka was nodding his head. “Kal shaam ko. Tinchu-Pinchu aur unke mummy-papa gaye hain Mahe ke ghar pe.” He told her his dad had gone too. She listened, now silenced by the enormity of what her mind was registering. As he talked giving sketchy details of what he’d heard she grew quieter and felt her body go still as if her life force were slowly leeching out. She did not relies when he stopped talking. She was lost in a reverie as her mind started flashing back images in quick succession - images full of the wonder that had been Happy. She felt Raka take her arm, “Main bhi jaa raha hoon kuch der mein. Tu jaegi? She looked into his face, tears starting to mist her eyes and nodded, “Haan”. They both stood there out by the roadside, two teary eyed little children crying for the loss of their friend who had stood at that very spot not a week back!
Monu went with her parents to Mahe’s house. Crowds had gathered in large numbers in and around the house. She stood with her parents near the outside steps that led inside the hall. She could see Mahe and her family seated inside. Mahe’s brother was laid out in the center of the room and women were gathered around crying inconsolably. Mahe sat as if turned to stone. Her father with tears running down his face was comforted by relatives. But it was the sight of Happy’s mother that arrested Monu’s eyes. The sight of a woman - a mother- who had lost forever her beloved child, perhaps her very source of life, her reason to live, was something that Monu would never forget. All who ever came into contact with happy had loved him and were affected by him, and he had been the darling of his family, the apple of his parents’ eye and the best friend of his sister. And it was to these three family members that he was irreplaceable. No one could ever fill the void that he left behind. The sorrow on his family’s face was heartrending but it was the mother who perhaps took the hardest blow - her heart would go on bleeding for her lost boy for as long as life remained in her vacant eyes - eyes that would in time begin to see again, and sense and comprehend, and talk and even smile, but eyes that would never again be imbued with the warmth and feeling that made them dance and come alive when her son stood alive before her.
People talked. They spoke in low murmurs and hushed whispers. Monu heard with amazement and horror talk of unnatural death and conspiracy theorists argue about something sinister surrounding the boy’s death. “They say he was driving a motorcycle. And there was another boy seated behind him. There was an accident. But the boy seated behind was wearing a helmet and so escaped with minor injuries. Why did he not wear a helmet while the pillion rider did? Was he driving too fast? What was the vehicle that hit them? Were the boys drunk? Did the bike hit a post” There was no end to the stories and the versions that floated around. The questions seemed to increase exponentially.
But Monu was not looking for answers. She was only picturing to herself Happy on a motorbike. Maybe he would have been nervous at first but the fear would have lessened as he rode. How truly happy he would have been with the wind playing with his curly black locks and the shy, pearly white smile dancing on his lips and reflected in his shining eyes. She turned to look at Mahe’s stone-like figure. Mahe sat upright, her back ramrod straight and her face looking straight ahead. Her eyes were not moist; nor did she blink often. It was as if she were in another dimension altogether. Shocked and numb no doubt and unable to grieve in the face of circumstances that completely overwhelmed her. But grieve she did, when the people had left and the emotions finally came rushing into her mind in wave upon wave of acute pain and inconsolable grief.
By and by Mahe would come to terms with her loss and time would try to fill the void left in her heart and her family with changes that would help them adapt to new situations and new people. But many a time Monu would bear witness to the searing pain that lodged somewhere in the depths of Mahe’s heart and that would come brimming up to the surface. A particular day of the year when the sight of colorful pretty Rakhis tied on the wrist of Tinch-Pinchu would suddenly trigger memories that made a smiling Mahe suddenly rush indoors with teary eyes and a grief that threatened to last a lifetime - a grief that had turned Mahe overnight from a shy, young girl with smiles to share and the very starlight reflected in her eyes to a woman with a smile that would never make her eyes shine and which would always remind all those who beheld that brave face of the reason for that change - of the young beautiful life that had been taken from her - of Mahe’s brother.
Tinchu and Happy were about the same age and were thick friends while Mahe was the same age as Raka, and this left poor little Pinchu as the youngest of the foursome. But they shared a good camaraderie and it so came about that whenever Mahe and her brother came visiting the foursome would venture out to play with Monu, Raka, Meethi and the rest of the kids. Moreover, Happy’s arrival had the effect of fortifying the group of Tinchu, Neeba, Shri and Radha much to Tinchu’s relief as he sometimes felt exasperated by being the only boy in an otherwise all-girl group. The girls all took unanimous decisions while he, more often than not, was left muttering in silent anger for being reduced to the mercy of the majority’s viewpoint when playing group games. So, by getting another boy in his group and one who shared his views too, Tinchu’s delight was always palpable and he wore it proudly too on his sleeve, much to the chagrin of the older girls who resentfully gave in when faced by the vociferous protestations of the two boys.
The group of the younger kids, on the other hand, was better balanced and more united in terms of teamwork. Although most of the decisions were taken by the trio of Monu, Meethi and Raka, they always listened to what Pinchu and Teepi has to say too. So, the addition of Mahe was simply an added bonus to them that they gladly accepted while having a firm conviction in the strength of their group.
Mahe was the silent type. She was couple of years older than Monu and had a shy, enchanting smile that showed off a set of pearly, white teeth when sometimes she was caught unawares and her smile broadened into an unexpected grin! Happy shared his sister’s smile but he was a tad more adventurous as well as boisterous, and tended to laugh freely and more often than his demure younger sister.
Left to themselves, the boys would bond together and all four - Raka, Tinchu-Pinchu and Happy - would engage in ‘boys’ games’ as Raka said, such as cricket, football, gilli-danda, kanchhe and tire racing. The latter involved tapping a bicycle tire with a wooden stick in order to make it roll along in front and then running after it tapping it all through to give the required momentum. The moment the tire lost balance and fell down the person lost his chance and the next boy took over. Monu had tried her hand at it but her efforts at controlling the tire fell woefully flat and she soon gave up, deciding instead to watch the boys of whom Raka seemed the most skillful. He used to expertly maneuver the tire and seemed to effortlessly propel it forward in front of him, his tongue peeking out from the side of his mouth as he ran after the tire to give the appearance of him trying to lick his lips intermittently. In those innocent days of the eighties, women’s lib had not taken root in this particular neighborhood and the children were content with their gender-based classification of the games, mainly because they never heard about terms like women’s cricket or women’s football. Their contentment regarding such a classification also arose from the fact that although certain games were meant for the boys the girls were never really excluded from them. So, if any of the girls wanted they were always free to join the boys and even got eager training techniques and tips from the boys. So, as far as games went the neighborhood was a pleasant democracy where the motto of ‘the more, the merrier’ was diligently followed.
So, it came about that rather than be mute spectators for long while the boys played, Monu, Meethi, Mahe and the rest of the girls would vociferously join in. The results were typically creative - a diluted form of Cricket called ‘One-Tip Cricket’, slower bowling speeds for the girl ‘batters’, and more sensitivity when it came to handling football for fear of hitting the girls too hard. There was no false sense of hurt pride, the girls took it as their right to expect this ‘discount’ from the boys’ side in the games. Of these games Monu really enjoyed ‘One-Tip Cricket’ where after the ball was hit the person trying to catch it was allowed more reaction time in the sense that he or she could catch it even if it hit the ground and bounced once. So, that one ‘tip’ was the discount that the girls enjoyed when playing Cricket with the boys. Another game she enjoyed playing with the boys was ‘Kanche’ where players had to mark out and hit with a marble accurately other marbles that were scattered carefully on a small limited area of the ground.
Then there were the other regular games like ‘Chhupan-Chhupai’, ‘Gallery’ and ‘Pitthoo’ where all the children played together and more players only meant more fun and enjoyment. Of these, ‘Pitthoo’ was Monu’s favorite while ‘Gallery’ came a close second.
Bothe Happy and Mahe were enthusiastic participants when it came to games and played fairly and sportingly. Happy, particularly ensured that the slippery Shri or the treacherous Neeba did not resort to cheating or did not get away if they did try any tricks. This was a good thing for the youngsters particularly, who were often at the receiving end of the trickery of the older kids where even the outspokenly un-biased Tinchu would sometimes be seen resorting to a white-lie or a sleight of hand in the blink of an eye when he thought no one was watching to uphold the interests of ‘his group’ - mainly the older kids. But when Happy was around none of the older kids including Tinchu, would dare exhibit their parlor tricks. And Happy’s sharp eye would not miss the little schemes of clever Radha either, though it was not often that she allowed herself the ‘fall-from-grace’ or ignominy of appearing to hide her misses or lapses and being guilty of an untruth, any of which was enough to label her a cheat. And Radha possessed too much pride to be seen as to stoop so low as to cheat. In her pristine world there was place only for those who exhibited strengths - strength of mind and spirit being top amongst them.
The arrival of Happy and Mahe on the scene at any given point would suddenly change the atmosphere all around. They made everything more colorful and fun and charged up everyone to give their beat and to refrain from giving off any negative vibes. So, the neighborhood always welcomed the times that Happy and Mahe came around. Both were soft-spoken and good-natured and just being around them was enough encouragement for the other kids to be at their best behavior too. And the resulting shouts of glee and squeals of excitement and delight along with the serious intonation of mock warnings issued by Happy and sometimes even by an inspired Tinchu as the ‘watchguards’ to keep the rest in check would make the air resound for a long time. It was as if the surroundings had come alive with these and a hundred other sounds that are the part and parcel of the unique environment that is created when children play with free spirits, unhindered enthusiasm and happiness unbounded.
To Monu, it seemed as if these visits by Mahe and Happy were few and far in between. She looked forward to the times that they came, and because it meant more kids to play with, her excitement only increased. And every time the clock would signal the hour for them to say goodbye until the next time, it always left her wistful and a tad sad. She would fervently wish that they stayed behind for a while longer so that they all could play for a little more time.
It was one such morning in the autumn of 198-. The air was full of expectation as if something big was about to happen. Monu was restless feeling that Mahe and Happy would come that day, and had stepped out to see if Raka was around. There was no wind which was unusual for that time of the year. The sides of the roads were full of dry leaves that had been falling since the past few weeks. Another couple of weeks and winter would be upon them. The bog Peepal tree by the red brick wall looked magnificent in its nakedness. It was as though it were stretching awake from slumber and readying to go somewhere leaving behind all its leaves that crackled below it whenever some passer by stepped on them.
As Monu rounded the bend in the road in front of her house, she spotted Raka. He was with a boy and had a look of disturbed disbelief plastered all over his face. When he saw her approach he signaled to the boy who quickly took off running in the direction of the Market area. “Kya hua?” she asked as Raka looked up. Poor Raka looked distinctly uncomfortable as if he wished he were miles away at that instant. Monu caught hold of his arm and shook him as if to make the words tumble out of his stubborn little mouth that wouldn’t open to reveal what was inside. Again she asked him what happened. He looked at her, something trying to stifle him and simultaneously burst forth from inside him, and as suddenly looked down. He couldn’t say the words, and then just as she started to shout at him for his silence, a sob escaped his pained face and a mumble, “Happy mar gaya”. Monu stared at him not quite hearing or perhaps comprehending what he was saying. The air around had suddenly started to feel chilly and she was aware of her breath coming short and hard. Trying to fist up and shove her soon-turning-icy fingers into her folded arms she just stood there looking at her dear friend’s face that had gone ashen gray.
They stood there for a long time. She trying to rub her fingers and blow on them to keep them warm and he with his fingers shoved tightly inside his trouser pockets. Suddenly they were interrupted by a loud horn. It was the neighbor from house number 75 on his scooter coming from the Market road and they jumped aside to let him pass. The motion perhaps broke the trance and they got back sensation in their minds. “Kya keh raha hai!” Monu’s eyes were as round as saucers and she looked as if she was bursting with questions. Incredulity, disbelief, shock, hurt, anger - all these emotions flitted across her face like processions in fast forward mode. “Haan.” Raka was nodding his head. “Kal shaam ko. Tinchu-Pinchu aur unke mummy-papa gaye hain Mahe ke ghar pe.” He told her his dad had gone too. She listened, now silenced by the enormity of what her mind was registering. As he talked giving sketchy details of what he’d heard she grew quieter and felt her body go still as if her life force were slowly leeching out. She did not relies when he stopped talking. She was lost in a reverie as her mind started flashing back images in quick succession - images full of the wonder that had been Happy. She felt Raka take her arm, “Main bhi jaa raha hoon kuch der mein. Tu jaegi? She looked into his face, tears starting to mist her eyes and nodded, “Haan”. They both stood there out by the roadside, two teary eyed little children crying for the loss of their friend who had stood at that very spot not a week back!
Monu went with her parents to Mahe’s house. Crowds had gathered in large numbers in and around the house. She stood with her parents near the outside steps that led inside the hall. She could see Mahe and her family seated inside. Mahe’s brother was laid out in the center of the room and women were gathered around crying inconsolably. Mahe sat as if turned to stone. Her father with tears running down his face was comforted by relatives. But it was the sight of Happy’s mother that arrested Monu’s eyes. The sight of a woman - a mother- who had lost forever her beloved child, perhaps her very source of life, her reason to live, was something that Monu would never forget. All who ever came into contact with happy had loved him and were affected by him, and he had been the darling of his family, the apple of his parents’ eye and the best friend of his sister. And it was to these three family members that he was irreplaceable. No one could ever fill the void that he left behind. The sorrow on his family’s face was heartrending but it was the mother who perhaps took the hardest blow - her heart would go on bleeding for her lost boy for as long as life remained in her vacant eyes - eyes that would in time begin to see again, and sense and comprehend, and talk and even smile, but eyes that would never again be imbued with the warmth and feeling that made them dance and come alive when her son stood alive before her.
People talked. They spoke in low murmurs and hushed whispers. Monu heard with amazement and horror talk of unnatural death and conspiracy theorists argue about something sinister surrounding the boy’s death. “They say he was driving a motorcycle. And there was another boy seated behind him. There was an accident. But the boy seated behind was wearing a helmet and so escaped with minor injuries. Why did he not wear a helmet while the pillion rider did? Was he driving too fast? What was the vehicle that hit them? Were the boys drunk? Did the bike hit a post” There was no end to the stories and the versions that floated around. The questions seemed to increase exponentially.
But Monu was not looking for answers. She was only picturing to herself Happy on a motorbike. Maybe he would have been nervous at first but the fear would have lessened as he rode. How truly happy he would have been with the wind playing with his curly black locks and the shy, pearly white smile dancing on his lips and reflected in his shining eyes. She turned to look at Mahe’s stone-like figure. Mahe sat upright, her back ramrod straight and her face looking straight ahead. Her eyes were not moist; nor did she blink often. It was as if she were in another dimension altogether. Shocked and numb no doubt and unable to grieve in the face of circumstances that completely overwhelmed her. But grieve she did, when the people had left and the emotions finally came rushing into her mind in wave upon wave of acute pain and inconsolable grief.
By and by Mahe would come to terms with her loss and time would try to fill the void left in her heart and her family with changes that would help them adapt to new situations and new people. But many a time Monu would bear witness to the searing pain that lodged somewhere in the depths of Mahe’s heart and that would come brimming up to the surface. A particular day of the year when the sight of colorful pretty Rakhis tied on the wrist of Tinch-Pinchu would suddenly trigger memories that made a smiling Mahe suddenly rush indoors with teary eyes and a grief that threatened to last a lifetime - a grief that had turned Mahe overnight from a shy, young girl with smiles to share and the very starlight reflected in her eyes to a woman with a smile that would never make her eyes shine and which would always remind all those who beheld that brave face of the reason for that change - of the young beautiful life that had been taken from her - of Mahe’s brother.
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