Bile was walking on the wet roads in Kolkata, almost unnoticed, with the rainbow colored umbrella in hand and tiny steps taking him nowhere, but away from the cold, dark and silent house. The road was bustling, but quieter than usual days, when he comes out to go to school. He walked alone – slowly, but surely enough not to return again!
The umbrella was not heavy for him, but the slippers were. They were already wet and he was not able to walk wearing them. He looked around and after assuring that none was watching him, he bent down, took both the slippers and threw them into the drain, over the culvert. He bent down to see them float atop the drain water, which suddenly became livid with the morning rain. He walked past the culvert and the big stinky drain and he left the bakery behind. Mom never let him cross this drain. Never would Dad take him there. Bile always wanted to know what there might be, waiting to be explored. Today, he would not stop for anyone. He walked slowly, but surely enough not to stop until he is made to. The roads were slippery, in this sorry Sunday morning, with the morning rain all over the place. His bare feet would not grip well and he was slipping almost with every step.
He walked down the street. The sky was already clear by now – after the rains, it looked as blue as never before. The road narrowed in and was almost swallowed by those big, heavy and hefty iron gates. He never saw such a scene, when he got inside those gates. There was a big field around him and in front of him as much as he could see; with trees on it, spaced far from each other. The place was covered with tall green grass and there were big stones and wooden planks standing on the ground – some side by side, whereas a few, afar. He could relate this place to a picture he saw in his books – this place must be a Graveyard!
Bile ran in. He was very happy. For the first time in his life, he saw a graveyard – neither did he plan for this to happen nor was it allowed. The wet grass was cutting down his pants and his bare feet smelt like heaven. He could feel it. He could touch the earth, play with the tall grass and jump over the gravestones – for the first time. He felt like a king there. The umbrella was the only thing he knew with no living thing around him. He was tired and he lied down on the wet grass. Little droplets of water and a few torn grass pallets stuck to his body, all over. He was getting dirty, one thing Mom would not like at all. But he cared not. The view of the clear blue sky through the tall grass, below the gravestone was something little Bile never tasted. He saw the white clouds hover above him and the gravestone was a perfect ally to play hide and seek with. He was happy, in this sorry Sunday morning. He forgot everything that happened back home, when he woke up today. There was nothing much to remember, though. He was enjoying his time here. He could still feel the rain drops, the grass and the earth on his little bare feet and the smell of the wet grass on his hands. The milieu was silent, calm and he would here his own heart beat. As the morning breeze blew over his dreamy and sleepy eyes, he felt serenity. He held on to the umbrella and closed his eyes. He could not tell, when he fell asleep, behind the gravestone, lying on the wet grass on this sorry Sunday morning.
Part III (The Stranger)
... to be continued
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Part I
Written For: Thursday Tales
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