The Lonely River

“Karthik, come down here! Let us eat.”

Karthik stared at the stream which the local people had in a surge of grand inspiration named “The Lonely River”. The serpentine, silent rivulet of water was barely four feet across here at its widest point outside of the forest. But nobody in the village could ever remember the stream not flowing, irrespective of scorching suns or absconding rains. It had always been here, quietly creeping from the lake into the dark, eerie forest.

“Hey Karthik! I know you grew up here, you village-boy! But stop acting nostalgic and come down! I am staaaarving….Hey Karthik!”

Karthik turned with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I’ll be down in just a minute. You guys start.”

He ran a hand through his short hair as he watched Swapna shake her head and walk away. He could tell she was smiling even though her back was to him. She reached the rest of the gang who were sitting in the back of the jeep they had taken to get to Manglapeta. She leaned forward to say something to someone with long, straight hair streaked with gold. Shyam managed to look good even with that effeminate hair-style. His friend caught him staring and winked at him.

He smiled and turned back to The Lonely River and peered into the neck of forest into whose darkness the stream disappeared. The sky was crowded with fat, black clouds that hid the sun. A brave ray of light escaped the embrace of its fluffy guards and fell happily, briefly lighting up a bent, gnarled tree branch drooping like some hunch-backed begging crone.

***

“Do you want to make a wish boy?”

Karthik wiped his tears with the heel of his palm and dug his nose for a ball of snot as he considered the stooped, old woman. She had dirty, white hair on a balding head and time had marked her skin without mercy. Some chunks of her hair were matted together and stood up at funny angles and Karthik would have laughed if his grief hadn’t returned in strength and robbed the humour from the picture in his head. He sobbed.

“Why do you cry boy?”

Karthik managed to get a grip on himself and shook his head. He didn’t want to tell this old, ugly beggar his shame. Without warning she grabbed his arm and pulled it towards her, the shock of it quieting Karthik. She was far stronger than she looked and her vice-like grip upon his arm hurt. She had lowered her face to his elbow, where the blood had congealed to leave a mess.

“Someone hurt you.” Her eyes flew to his cheek, where Raghu’s derisive fist had left a purple welt and even to his stomach where his shirt hid a couple more. “Why did they hurt you?”

“Because I can’t fight back.”

The crone liked this answer. She smiled.

“Do you want to make a wish boy? To the gods of the forest?”

He didn’t know who this woman was and he didn’t know who the gods of the forest were so he shook his head. His mother had told him not to accept gifts from strangers. Especially if they were talking about gods. Though these days she didn’t tell him anything.

“Are you sure boy? You can punish those who hurt you. All you have to pay is one life in exchange.”

He didn’t understand.

“Pay one life?”

The beggar-woman did not seem to share in the impatience idiosyncratic to the old and the dying.

“Yes. One life the gods of the forest will take for you. One life they take for themselves.”

Karthik was silent. The forest was quiet as it eavesdropped on this conversation between the young boy and old woman, under a dying sun.

“But there is a condition.” Again, a smile split her lined face in half.

She continued.

“The one life you give to the gods of the forest has to be yours to give. A friend, a brother, a lover. You have to have their trust. And a lock of hair from their head.”

“Why do the gods want a lock of hair?”

“It is not for you to question the way of gods boy.”

Karthik didn’t say anything. He suspected the old lady was crazy and didn’t want to anger her. Better to just agree and slip away. The batty old lady spoke on.

“Write the names on a sheet of paper. The life you want taken on top and the one for the gods below. Make a little boat out of it and set it in the stream. Put the lock of hair in it. It will find its way to the gods.”

Karthik’s face must have betrayed his confusion because she asked.

“You don’t know to make a paper boat?”

Karthik shook his head. He was good at making paper boats. His mother had taught him how.

“What language should I write in? I don’t know what language the gods of the forest speak.”

His question must have amused the crone because she gave a bark of laughter, harsh than the screech of chalk on the blackboard.

“Whichever language you like boy. They are gods after all. They will understand.”

It was getting late. The sky had mutated from blotted red to inky black though the moon was nowhere to be found. Karthik turned towards the trail that led the village in the hope of seeing his mother coming to collect him like she had used to once. Before Kumaran had been born.

He turned back and started in surprise. The crone was gone. He stood up and peeked around. He was sure the mad old woman was hiding somewhere in the thick, foliage just waiting to jump out and scare him. Though how had she slipped away so noiselessly?

Feeling scared, he set off towards the trail, not willing to look back, frightened of seeing the old woman with matted hair following him home. He heard a scuffle of feet behind him and he began to run, still not looking back as his heart beat a thunderous beat.

He ran till he reached the outskirts of the village and finally found a well-lit shop with other people in it. He looked back, but the old lady wasn’t there. He had lost her. He made his way home; his confident feet letting his mind wander. He thought of what the old lady had said and the lit, crowded mud roads gave him the courage to dismiss the words as ravings of a lunatic beggar woman.

He took the turn off from the main road towards his house when he tripped and fell. The taste of blood filled his mouth as he looked up and saw to his dismay, the grinning faces of Raghu and Thiru.

“If it isn’t the teacher’s pet. The ass-kissing little shit.”

Thiru just sniggered. Karthik was not sure he had ever heard his classmate speak. But he had heard him snigger a lot.

Raghu bent and grabbed a handful of Karthik’s hair and yanked him to his knees. The pain brought a grunt to Karthik’s lips which he struggled to smother but failed. This only seemed to amuse his tormentor.

“Look at him grunting like a pig. Sitting on his knees and grunting like a girl. Are you a girl? Let us find out.”

The next thing Karthik felt was a burning, pain in his groin as Raghu crushed his testicles with his hand.

“Oh look at this. He is a boy apparently.” Thiru sniggered dutifully. “But I don’t think these parts suit him. We should just pull it out and make him a girl. Make him a whore.”

The two boys laughed, neither sure what a whore was but still proud that it had found way into their conversation.

The agony was almost unbearable now and Karthik was sobbing and screaming, his salty tears mixing with the taste of blood in his mouth. And then suddenly it stopped.

“That’s the teacher. He will see us! Come on, let’s go! Quick!”

Karthik heard the patter of running feet and he dragged himself off the road, towards an abandoned vegetable cart lying on its side. He didn’t want the teacher to see him like this. The shame burned him and he stifled his sobs.

He lay there for a while till the pain eased and his tears dried and then got up. The road was deserted so he got home quickly despite his unsteady steps.

“Amma?”

He called out for his mother, wanting to smother himself in her embrace and cry till he felt better.

“Amma!”

He entered the bedroom and found his mother lying in bed, with one arm around his baby brother.  He moved closer and was about to call her again, when she raised herself on an elbow and shushed him with a finger on her lips. She didn’t seem to notice his wounds and they seemed to hurt even more. But he was not going to cry again.

She got off the bed and adjusted her sari. And then carefully arranged the pillows like guards around Kumaran so that he wouldn’t roll off the bed and hurt himself. Then she walked into the kitchen. Karthik walked upto the bed.

His baby brother was not asleep. He just lay there playing with his feet as if he couldn’t understand what these weird protrusions were meant for. And then suddenly, he began to cry.

“Karthik! Did you wake him up? Foolish boy! I had just gotten him to doze off.”

“Amma he was awake! I didn’t –“

But his mother wasn’t listening and the injustice of it made Karthik’s eyes well up again and he felt such anger he wanted to strangle his little brother. He stepped closer to the bed and Kumaran looked at him and as suddenly as he had started crying he stopped. He just lay there and stared at Karthik’s face.

Karthik reached towards his brother and then plucked a hair from the little boy’s head. The scream this time brought his mother running from the kitchen.

“What did you do now, you idiot!” – she picked up the bawling baby –“ what did you do?”. She tried to slap him but he ducked and ran through the door, his mother’s angry curses following him.

He kept running, anger fuelling his feet and numbing his pain and weariness. He did not know where he was going; just that he had to go. The lightless night made his run a dangerous one but he did not care. He kept on running.

He finally stopped to catch his breath, gulping air greedily with his hands upon his knees, sweat dripping from every pore. Once his heart had stopped pounding against his chest like an enraged prisoner, he stood up straight and felt a trickle of cold run along his back when he saw where he had come. Even in the darkness, the Lonely River flowed, finding its way with ease. To the gods of the forest.

“You came to make your wish boy.”

He whipped around and nearly fell into the stream. The old beggar woman looked as withered as the trees around her, though her eyes held a gleam that made them shine though there was no light here to reflect.

“Make your wish boy.”

Karthik could hear his heart pounding again now, though this time it was in terror not rage.

“I don’t have paper. Or a pen.”

The crone stepped closer and he could see her smile clearly now. She gestured towards his hand with her staff.

“What are you talking about?”

Karthik looked down and there, clasped tightly in his hand was a sheet of paper, crumpled but clean and a pencil. The beggar woman moved even closer now and she whispered.

“Make you wish boy.”

Karthik opened the piece of paper and wrote the names. His hand shook and he had to scratch out what he had written twice.

“Good. Now make a boat. Hurry.” Her voice was a hiss and Karthik found his hands fumbling as he tried to make the boat. It did not look very good but the old crone gave a croak of pleasure.

“Yes well done. Now put the lock of hair in it and set it afloat.”

Karthik did as he was told, watching the little boat bob away looking surprisingly steady. His heart had stopped racing and he turned to ask the beggar woman how long it would take for the gods to act.

But only an errant gust of cold wind greeted him. There was no old, bent woman. He ran along the stream, but he couldn’t find his boat either. The darkness around seemed to push in on him and Karthik found himself running along the dirt road for the third time that day.

By the time Karthik reached home, he was starving and his mother had calmed down. Kumaran was sleeping now, his stomach rising and falling in rhythm. He washed himself and ate dinner in the kitchen while his mother hung clothes outside to dry.

By the time he lay down in bed, he was sure that the mad old lady had been playing a joke on him. A cruel joke that left him feeling shame and sadness and anger. Nothing would happen. Tomorrow nothing would have changed. And then his dreams came to claim him, though this time there was a hunch-backed, old beggar-woman in his dreams whose smile split her lined face in two.

***

He woke up with a start and didn’t know why. And then he heard his mother’s screams, a second before she shook him awake.

“Where is the baby? Karthik – have you seen Kumaran? Tell me!” Someone else had entered the room.

He got up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He stood up and looked at the bed where the baby should have been. Kumaran’s little, pink blanket was there and the pillows had not been disturbed but the baby wasn’t there.

The man who had entered the room was Vivek uncle. He was a very important man in the village and everybody listened when he spoke. He was talking to Karthik’s mother now.

“-men searching. I am sure he must be somewhere here. Nobody would steal your child. Have you checked under the bed?”

His mother was shaking her head, and Karthik could hear her voice crack as she spoke.

“I have searched everywhere. Someone has taken my child. Find him please.”

Karthik felt an icy finger stroke the nape of his neck. Had it worked? Had the gods of the forest taken Kumaran away? Then what about Raghu?

Two more men walked into the room. He had seen the men in the village though he didn’t know their names.

One of them was speaking now, his voice low.

“We searched everywhere. Nothing. No sign. We are dragging the wells and the lake now. This is a two year old baby. He couldn’t have crawled away on his own. Someone took him anna.” An urgency entered his voice. “Somebody took the child from the bed.”

Vivek shook his head, his hands on his hips.

“First that freak accident killing that child last night. Now this! What the hell is happening?”

All of a sudden, his head swivelled towards Karthik. He smiled and gestured at the boy.

“Come here son. Let me ask you something.”

Karthik felt the terror descend to his feet making it hard to walk. Did this man suspect something?

He bent forwards and then kept a hand on Karthik’s shoulder.

“Did you see anything? Do you know where the baby is?”

Karthik did not trust himself to speak so he just shook his head.

“Are you sure? Tell me, did you hide the baby? Your mother told us you were angry with him for getting you into trouble. I had an annoying younger brother too. So you can tell me if you took him. I won’t tell anyone.”

“No.” He shook his head again for emphasis, though he was afraid his racing heart would give him away. “No I didn’t take him.”

Vivek uncle stared at him. And then he let Karthik go with a smile.

“Don’t worry son. We will find you brother.”

They never did. They looked everywhere. But they never did.

***

Karthik stared at the sheet of paper on which he had written one name. It was a famous name in his college. Especially in Karthik’s batch.

He turned back to stare at his friends and studied them for a while. They were having fun. He added a second name to the sheet of paper. The boat he made from it looked very sturdy but he suspected it wouldn’t need to be. He placed a strand of long black hair, streaked with gold in it and dropped the flimsy vehicle gently into the stream. The boat floated along quietly, riding the currents confidently. Karthik watched it till it disappeared into the black embrace of the forest.

__END__