The shadow which isn’t for life time…

Not many long times ago, there was a huge mango tree. A little boy, whose name was Ravi, loved to come and play around it every day. He climbed to the treetop, ate the mangoes, took a nap under the shadow.. he loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him. Time goes on ….. the little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree as usual.

One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad. ‘Come and play with me’ the tree asked the boy. ‘I am no longer a kid, I do not play around trees any more’ Ravi replied. ‘I want toys. I need money to buy them.’  ‘Sorry, but I do not have money’ the tree said, ‘but you can pick all my mangoes and sell them. So, you will have money.’ Ravi was so excited. He grabbed all the mangoes on the tree and left happily. He never came back after he picked the mangoes. The tree was in grief. 

One day, Ravi, who now turned into a man returned and the tree was excited ‘Come and play with me’ the tree said. ‘I do not have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?’ he replied. ‘Sorry, but I do not have any house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house’ the tree answered. So Ravi cut all the branches of the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but he never came back since then. The tree was again lonely and sad. 

One hot summer day, Ravi returned and the tree was delighted. ‘Come and play with me!’ the tree said. ‘I am getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?’ said Ravi. ‘Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy.’ So Ravi cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a long time.

Finally, Ravi returned after many years. ‘Sorry, my boy. But I do not have anything for you anymore. No more mangoes for you’ the tree said. ‘No problem, I do not have any teeth to bite’ Ravi replied. ‘No more trunk for you to climb on’ the tree said.  ‘I am too old for that now’ Ravi said. ‘I really cannot give you anything!.... the only thing left is my dying roots’ the tree said with tears. ‘I do not need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years’ he replied. ‘Good! Old tree roots are the best place to lean on and rest, Come, come sit down with me and take the rest you need.’ Now the old and retarded Ravi sat down and the tree’s shadow and the tree was glad and smiled with tears in eyes....

The same happens to everyone of us when we are child. The tree is like our parents. When we were young, we loved to play with our Mum and Dad to the fullest. When we grow up, we leave them, only come to them when we need something or when we are in trouble. No matter what, parents will always be there and give everything they could just to make you happy. You may think the boy is cruel to the tree, but that is how all of us treat our parents. We take them for granted we don’t appreciate all they do for us until it’s too late. The shadow which isn’t for life time… Are we being responsible enough? A big question that shouldn’t be asking to every child while they are child!!!

Dedicated to my parents, and to every other parent, who are dying to see their li’l one’s smiling…

A perfect Gift!!!

Since retiring to this moment, my dad, and I have seen deer, monkeys and a lot of dogs as well— but nothing capable of making the bizarre noise that was coming from outside. I dropped my studying and flew to the window. “It’s a dog! A little white, cute dog.”

Dad came running, and I glanced back outside. The small beast looked up at me with squinty doggy eyes while munching my shocks. “Stop that!” I ordered, rapping on the glass.

We puzzled about where this small li’l puppy had come from. Then we remembered: The Banerjees’ teens were raising two dogs. I tapped in their number, but the phone rang and rang. Maybe we could lure it home with food.

My rural Murshidabad childhood had taught me that who love in living beings, can open the door of heaven, so I was in a rash for anything to give, but the closest we had was cornflakes. Being desperate, we dumped the cereal in a small pail and hurried outside.

Dad held the bucket and shouted, “Here dog, here dog, here!” The puppy eyeballed the pail, grunted and waddled closer. Dad slowly backed up. Doggy took three small steps and stopped. Dad pushed the pail closer.

The dog shoved its snout deep inside and snuffled around in the cornflakes. Instead of eating, however, it pulled back, gave a small snort and trotted back to my flower bed.

Maybe we could lasso it? Dad got a rope from the garage and, summoning his inner cowboy, fashioned a rope, which he swung around over his head. Sadly, Dad is not an actual cowboy. After countless failed attempts at doggy roping, he finally just walked up to the dog and placed the loop over its head.

“Come on, dog,” Dad said. “Time to go home.” He tugged the rope. The dog squealed and took off in the opposite direction. Across the lawn went dog and Dad, sometimes Dad pulling the dog, but most times it resisted, zigzagging toward the neighbors’ house. The houses’ people and passerby corralled there pricked up their ears, galloped over to the fence and lined up like spectators at a rodeo.

The dog, startled, stopped and stared back. Dad snatched the opportunity and tied the rope around a fence post. The dog pulled and pulled, but the post wouldn’t budge. A little spotted kid slipped between two men and yell softly to the dog. At last, doggy slept.

Late that afternoon, Banerjees came, we went to them and enquired about it. They said, for a certain reason, they need to shift their base, & an unfortunate thing is, the other, means the parent dogs they had, are been sold to others. We came to a great surprise, that how did it slipped from the hand of them & ran towards our house. After listening every bit of discussion, I came up with request to my dad & Banerjee uncle, that “I think she chose me, (actually it’s a bitch!) & it would be quite great if I also do the same”. I demanded my father for that gift! which by seeing everything, he couldn’t deny.  He untied the rope, scratched his dog’s snout & back, and said, “Come on, Marshmallow. Time to go home.” It trotted along behind me, catching the tiny white marshmallows Dad tossed our way as we walked home together…

A promise to be kept!

I was returning from work, driving. Quite late actually it is, as I’m a manager in contact center. In the watch it’s about to be 11:46 PM, means few more minutes, and a new day as usual. I was driving & in my car a soft music was playing on, & was stopped due to the signal, it was red for the time. In a second, I noticed a hoarding in the road side, in which was written, “victory of good over evil in few days, its coming.” The poster was about our famous festival ‘Durgotsav’. Quite good, the poster was. Suddenly my eyes got stuck up to the beneath of the hoarding! A few young kids were sleeping, or were trying to sleep in the bright DAYLIGHT like ambience, with just a ripped Package, which is made by jute. Beside them bundle of ‘Kash phool’,  in English which is ‘Kans grass’ or ‘Catkins’. It’s their nowadays a biggest weapon to survive on the streets, or the effort to their well-being for coming few days. In the mean time, my signal accessed me, so I drove off the car but my mind’s thinking of that particular snap of that under-privileged family’s children. Frankly speaking, looking at them, I reached to my childhood days, where no any tensions were there. I belong from a village, over there it used to appear in month of September, October, & we all used to pluck it in bundles and were decorating our house, puja pandals, etc.

 It reminded me of those days, where my dad used to work hard for us, & he used to try to make us happy with whatever he got, he could arrange for us,  but the time we used to spend together was a real family time. We may come from a middle-class family, but my parents made sure we get everything, to make me happy enough, even though they are not. But, the children of the footpath, their situation a bit different from me, over here they all, need to find a piece of bread for tomorrow again, for them & if possible for any other of the family member. And in this certain process, they are found selling these ‘kash phool’ into various points, such as, traffic signals, train stations, or near any junctions of road where bigger crowds can be attempted.   We, the so called smart people, are ready to walk to the memory lane by buying such stuffs. If we be happy to some extent, we buy or we’re even eager to bit or simply drive away, those li’l brats if they come to us that way of nagging. A few are possibly going in wrong turns, I mean, in a tempted way; the city is going to spoil them. Few deaths would be there, which news we can’t be reading in newspaper, Anyways night just started, I’m back my home thinking all this nitty-gritty & I can’t just erase off the pictures, which I just experienced. 

Post this incident, I swore to myself that come what may, I will never let my kids imbibe this kind of culture in their life and we have to teach the kids to help in small chores right from the beginning. With him only, I’ll find at least one child of those, & gift some clothes, sweets, and if possible, if he/she into study will be purchasing entire year’s book for that kid, so that my child can have this lesson to share with the bigger family. This much for sure, I’m going to do, in this puja itself, where ‘good over evil’ is making its true sense.  I still can’t find happiness as a promise to be kept.  That’s because happiness lies with people who are content in life, & looking at this view, I’m not…