THE RUNAWAY BOY

Two old women were sitting on a string charpoy, shelling peas and a cuddly two year old sat on the ground   playing with the empty shells that the women threw on the ground and even stuffing some into his mouth.

Oblivious to this gluttonous spree, the septuagenarians were involved in the pleasures of their own gluttony. Every now and then, they would   pop some of the peas into their mouths, while a young man swept the premises with a long broom reminding me of an illustration of the Mole in THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS.

There were no willows around, but there definitely was a wind which sloughed through the Gulmohar trees, and on a huge ladder leaning against the house, stood another young man, trying to reach out for something. A dog sat curled in a shady corner and a little pup sat next to him, looking around with a listless air not knowing what to do with himself.

One of the septuagenarians yelled to two young girls lying on the cot. “Sooraj sir par hai abhi tak so rahi ho , get up”. [You are still sleeping, the sun is on your heads, get up]And the girls jerked themselves out of the vicious grip of sleep, but continued to be in a semi somnambulistic state, hair dishevelled, clothes rumpled, and dreams crumpled. Every now and then they would hurl grumpy looks in the direction of the pea-shellers, and whisper something to each other.

Having had his fill of the pea shells, the toddler stood up and raced towards his father who sat on a chair reading the morning newspaper. He jumped into his lap, flung away the newspaper and magnanimously offered him a pea shell which he had carried with him, almost thrusting it into his mouth.

Suddenly the father’s eyes fell on his stuffed mouth and he put in two fingers and pulled out the shells and slapped him tight across the face. At this obnoxious gesture, big, fat tears squeezed themselves from his eyes and tricked down his chubby cheeks and in one defiant gesture, jumped down, picked up the empty shells and again stuffed them into his mouth. 

The father again picked up the newspaper, forgot all about the slap and  started reading , so overwhelmed by the news around the world, that he completely overlooked  the news that his child was about to create.

 Buoyed by curiosity and an irrepressible passion for quest, the child now headed towards the main gate, while everyone was busy in the morning chores.

In this voyage of discovery, stoutly supported by a pair of chubby legs whose immense power he had just realised a couple of months back, he soon darted out of the gate.  There was an open drain just a little outside the gate, with a cautious tread; the boy eased himself into it.

Ah, it held promises. And hidden treasures.

On seeing what the little one was up to, the pup that was curled up under the tree broke into a sprint, and as I watched, he too jumped into the drain; its tail a blur of excitement .The drain was thankfully empty of water but full of many unsavoury items.

Now both the child and the pup sat in the drain discovering the pleasures and promises that the drain had to offer.

His eyes fell on a crumpled plastic ball, and with a yell of pure delight, he fell upon it and the pup fell upon the child.

Now the twosome had a ball, while the mosquitoes and the flies buzzed around serenading them with their musical notes. From my terrace I watched them, intrigued.

The pup suddenly took a fancy to an empty tin can and started lavishing all its attention on it, licking and pawing it, in this moment of discovery, he completely forgot the ball.

So now the two young ones were cocooned in their own worlds, where an out of shape ball and a crushed tin can were the source of their chortles and whelps of delight.

 “Raju, Raju, where are you?”Suddenly the cry went up; sleepy eyes popped out of their sockets, yawns were throttled halfway, and languid legs started groping for slippers, frantic and panic-stricken.

“The child has slipped out of the house, and no one noticed.”

The father shouted and dashed towards the gate, the one who was on the ladder, jumped down from the ladder, and the ladder fell on top of him.

With an incredible alacrity, the man hurled away the ladder, escaped unscathed and raced towards the gate. The girls who were in a somnambulistic trance   ran after him. The septuagenarians also hobbled towards the gate, but not before they had popped some more peas into their mouths.

 So now there were half a dozen people running towards the gate. And, yes, the dog too.

And a few hens gone absolutely crazy.

I leaned closer to the railing and watched intrigued as this eclectic mix of people reached the drain and stood transfixed.

The father bent down and picked up the child, but the child bawled lustily, punched him in his face, and slipped from his grasp, and grasped the plaything. He had still not forgiven and forgotten.

The father again scooped him up; the toddler again slithered down, his chubby face covered with an ominous scowl. And the pup forgot the crumpled tin can and yipped away, licking away at his friend’s face.

How could it keep silent when such atrocities were being unleashed on its companion?

Unable to restrain my curiosity any longer, I left the terrace dashed down the stairs, crossed the road and became part of the scene.

Now something unexpected happened.

A shoeshine boy appeared on the scene, a shoe box strung over his shoulder, the shine in his black, limpid eyes matching the ardour in the tiny boy’s eyes. The moment the boy’s eyes fell on the shoeshine boy; his face broke into so broad a smile that the half dozen people standing there looked like pale ghosts.

And then the two year old stretched his chubby arms towards the boy, the boy bent down and scooped the two year bundle into his arms, and planted two kisses on his cheeks.
I had found my chunk of joy, my eureka moment.

 While easing himself into the drain, the toddler had received a few nicks and cuts, now he was showing his hands and arms to the shoeshine boy, wanting to be mollycoddled.

The septuagenarians grimaced and turned on their heels, muttering something under their breaths.

All faces broke into smiles, and everything seemed to be right with the world.

The pup jumped out of the drain, and hugged the legs of the shoeshine boy.

With a huge smile suffusing his face, the shoeshine boy handed the runaway son over to his anxious father, while the hens skittered around in a fever of excitement; the somnambulistic girls almost broke into a jig, and smothered their truant brother with at least a hundred and one kisses.

The pigs which had been lying supine under a tree suddenly threw away sloth and were galvanised into a spurt of feasting and gormandising in the neighbouring ditch, and the butterflies which sometime back were lying absolutely quiescent started whirling and swirling like flamboyantly attired dancers. There was celebration in the air.

The father, with the child secure in his arms, headed towards the gate, and the pup ran after them.

The shoeshine boy turned on his heels and headed towards his place under the Neem tree, where many a tattered sole needed his healing touch.

Was it my imagination or did I really hear him sing, I’m going back, back to the shoeshine stand

I’m going back, back to the shoeshine stand I’ll be singing the blues while I shine your shoes I’m a soul fixin’ man yes, soul fixing.......

The toddler’s soul had been healed; his bruises, nicks and cuts had been attended to,

While this scene was being played out, a tiny rag picker was doubled over an overflowing garbage can, perspiring profusely, his “Eureka” moment eluding him.

Another soul waiting to be fixed.