My
parents decided to send me to my uncle's place for a while. They felt this
would help to discipline me.
"Study
seriously. I've placed high hopes on you, my child," warned Father as I
was leaving.
"Don't
bother your aunt and don't play with the bad boys there," was Mother's
parting advice.
At
the new place I felt lonely. Foi a few days, after returning from school, I
stayed at home and spent the time doing home-work and revising lessons.
Soon
I made friends. All of them were fond of playing games. We went to school
together and came back in a group.
The
temple priest gave me sweets every Tuesday. The carpenter made a gulli danda*
for me. The black-smith gladly sharpened my khurpi** But I liked Faqira, the chowkidar,***
most of all. He loved children. We all enjoyed his jokes. His voice was husky
and he had a shrill laugh.
One
evening, I came home late. "Where have you been all day?" asked aunt
sternly.
"I
went with Shankara to his fields," I replied meekly.
"You're
in our charge. I won't allow you to neglect your studies," she warned.
I
opened my satchel and started studying.
"If
you do this again, I'll have to tell Chachu Chawdhary," she continued. I
looked at her, but did not daie ask who Chachu Chawdhary was.
"Have
you seen Chachu Chawdhary?" asked Shankara on the way to school the next
morning.
"Chachu
Chawdhary?" I was surprised to hear the same name again. "Who is
he?" I asked.
"Look
there," he pointed towards a nearby field.
I
craned my neck. A big able - bodied man was fighting with a bull. He was
pushing the strong animal.
On
the way back I asked Shankara about Chachu. "Chachu has wild red eyes and
a wide jaw," said
Shankara.
Dalipu
confirmed Shankara's description of Chachu by imitating his waddling gait,
while Ahmedi added, "Chachu is six feet three inches tall and quite
fat."
"The
strongest and most feaied person in our village," said Rinu.
"No,
not only in our village, but in the whole area right upto the canal. No one
dare oppose him." To make his point Shankara emphasized every word.
As
we approached the house I saw aunt standing at the door. I ran home without
even saying good-bye to my friends. I had some milk and quickly sat down to do
my home- work. But Chachu remained in my mind all the time. 'Chachu is the most
feared person in our village', I repeated the words to myself.
At
night I asked Uncle about Chachu.
"He
is a brave man with a lion's heart," said Uncle. "He killed three
dacoits who had come to loot our village once."
"He
killed them alone?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes,
no dacoit has ever dared to come anywhere
|
|
near
our village after that," Uncle said proudly.
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|
"Then
he must have got a big prize for bravery."
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|
"Would
you like to meet Chachu?" asked Uncle
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|
abruptly.
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|
"No,
no, I'm afraid of him. I don't want to see
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|
him," I
said frightened. Uncle
laughed, but Aunt
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suppressed
her smile.
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|
I
also came to know that the village Sarhala was
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|
popularly
known as Khooni Sarhala, because of the
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|
murders
that had taken place there. For a while, I felt
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|
ashamed
of studying in a village with such a nickname.
|
|
One
day, while returning from school, we saw a
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|
man
digging a grave. That was the first time I was
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|
seeing
a grave. It was a deep, dark pit.
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|
At
noon, one Sunday, when everybody was indoors,
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|
I
decided to dig the ground in front of our house.
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|
"What
are you doing, dear?" I heard a throaty voice.
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|
"Digging
a grave," I replied without looking up.
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|
I
was sure it was Faqira.
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"For
whom is this grave?"
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"For
your ghost, Faqira."
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"But
I'm too big for this small grave."
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"I'll
cut you into pieces and
|
"
|
A
resonant laughter followed.
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|
I
turned. It was Chachu. I couldn't find my voice.
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"Why
are you upset, dear?" he asked affectionately.
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|
I~ran
for shelter, leaving my khurpi and chappals*
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|
behind. I didn't enter the house,
|
for I was afraid
|
Chachu
would come in.
|
"Why are you running
away from me? I'm Chachu —your own Chachu," he spoke loudly.
I
heard something more which I could not under-stand
For
three hours I hid behind a bush. The butter-flies didn't interest me. It
appeared they spied on me and would report back to Chachu about his 'grave
digger'.
After
this incident, I avoided Chachu as much as possible.
One
rainy morning, five of us class-mates were wading happily through ankle -deep
water. It was Chachu who came to our help by warning us of a nullah* ahead.
"Chachu
is really great," said Dalipu. I could only nod my head.
One
evening, when we were playing on a sand mound, Dalipu boasted, "I'll catch
hold of Chachu's neck when I grow stronger."
"But
he has no neck," retorted Ahmedi. All of them laughed. But I did not.
"Chachu's
head is like a truck's headlight," said Rinu. There was another ripple of
laughter. This time I smiled, a feeble artificial smile.
"Here
comes Chachu," cried Shankara. I broke into a cold sweat. But thank God,
it was only a joke. My heart was still pounding.
I
stood first in my class in the first quarterly test. Uncle patted me on the
back. Aunt gave me a piece of sweet bread. My triends demanded a treat.
Chachu,
too, came to congratulate me. On seeing him, I shut myself in the bathroom. But
I could hear him talking to Uncle and Aunt.
"Where's
our little nephew—our good nephew?" asked Chachu.
"He
must be playing outside," said uncle.
"I'll
give him a prize if he stands first in his final examination," announced
Chachu.
I
felt proud and decided to step out. But when I saw Chachu at a distance, I beat
a hasty retreat.
One
afternoon, I was watching a juggler's show. "Is my grave ready, Pashu?"
a voice asked from behind. Without looking back, I ran from the scene.
I
was sure Chachu would one day catch hold of me and punish me.
In
the half- yearly test, too, I stood first, in spite of the fact that I
deliberately left two questions in one paper unanswered. Once again, my friends
and others flocked to our house to congratulate me. My parents, too, sent me a
letter of congratulation. Thank heavens, Chachu didn't come this time.
That
night Uncle told me, "Chachu is quite generous to the poor."
"Does
he really help them?" I asked. "Yes," said Uncle. "Also, he
loves childien."
I
was stunned. "Then why does he frighten us?" I asked.
"Maybe
for the fun of it."
"Does
Chachu beat those who don't study?" Uncle smiled, shaking his head. But
Aunt hastened
to
say, "Chachu never spares those who do not obey their elders."
Examinations
over, I went back to my parents. I knew I would have to discontinue my studies
as there was no high school in our village. Moreover, my father had a limited
income. I did not want to return to Khooni Sarhala because of Chachu. Deep, in
my heart, I did have a sneaking regard for him. I cursed myself for being so
afraid of him.
The
results were out.
"Pashu,
you have broken the school record. You got more than 80 per cent." Uncle
himself brought us the good news.
I
was thrilled. But, when he said, "Chachu has not forgotten his
promise," I turned pale.
"I'm
not going to the village just for the sake of receiving from Chachu a gift of a
couple of notebooks and pencils," I said curtly but firmly.
"Chachu
won't eat you," said uncle.
"A
present is a present, however small," said father. Mother intervened. "Pashu won't go now. He'll go there after
some time with me. I know Chachu loves
children."
The
next week, a message came from Sarhala. "Chachu is ill. He wants to see
Pashu."
I
thought it was only an excuse. I didn't go. But I thought of Chachu and prayed
for his recovery.
Three
days later, another person came from Sarhala. "Chachu Chawdhary has sent
this so that Pashu can pursue his studies," said the messenger, thrusting
a few currency notes into my hands.
'Why
has he sent money? Isn't he well?' These questions raced through my mind as my
eyes welled up with tears.
"How's
my Chachu? I'll go to him. I'm not afraid of him," I cried, quite
overwhelmed by now.
Mother
counted the money. Five hundred rupees! "Chachu has no child of his own
and feels lonely,"
said
the man fiom the village.
"I'll
go there. I'll study there," I said, tears pouring down my cheeks.
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