Mystic Pangs

The gate was slightly ajar. The blue painted gate with its glowing surface. He walked in slowly. The custard apples were fallen and strewn around. A squirrel was hurriedly devouring a guava fruit. Nothing interested him today. Usually when he came back from school before stepping into the house he would go straight to the custard apple tree picking the fallen fruit biting into one after wiping it on his soiled knickers. He loved the earthy taste of soil. His mother would always scold him for eating the fruits unwashed. She blamed this habit of him for his occasional stomach aches. Did she know that he was feigning it often? Poor mother! She always believed in everything he said.

He went in and dropped his bag with a thud. Where is grandma! He wondered and silently went to her room and looked in. She was lying on her side, sleeping perhaps. The air was filled with the smell of scented Ayurvedic oil which she rubbed on her legs every day. The window curtain was lifted up by the breeze and it kept caressing grandma’s face. There was the noise of utensils clanking. Mother must be cooking. If she had known that he had come, she would have called out to him to eat. He felt so sad for being sad…

Today the feeling of sadness spread all over him like the rain clouds which move in from the horizon darkening the world underneath. It happened stealthily while he stood in the line for the mass assembly. The morning sun was bright hitting on him warming his body. A flock of birds flew over in the back drop of a beautiful rain bow.

Suddenly there was stillness. His mind stopped, there was no movement. He was an observer. Then he thought if he is an observer, then who is observing the observer and then who is observing the observer who observes the observer….then who is… who is…. The thought kept happening hounding him. He thought his head would split into smithereens. Would he become like somu uncle who lost his mind and wandered everywhere in his tattered clothe kicking at every lamp post. The enigma of such a pattern of thinking made him panicky. He sank into silence while the rest of the class chatted away. Usually he would be one of them saying stories and things with animated exaggeration until the grave presence of the teacher appeared in the doorway.

Raja, who sits near him, had asked him why he was looking gloomy. He had said that he was feeling pain in the forehead.

He went to the kitchen silently and moved close to mother just behind her and stood quiet. She turned and jolted.

“How many times have I told you not to sneak in behind me? I am near the fire and hot vessels.” She snapped.

But the expression of anger vanished from her face quickly.

“Come! Let’s eat. When did you come? What happened little boy? You look sad. Did someone scold you”? Her warm hands pinched his chin and he thought that he was feeling better.

Tony, his cat jumped up seeing him and came to him; his tail rose up and he rubbed it along his right leg. Its eyes glistened. Did he see the pain and anxiousness of the enquiry in its eyes too? Or was it love or the thought of food crumbs. Mother was pouring tea into the cup humming.

He stared at the idiyappams and vegetable stew on the plate as if he was looking at the picture of a strange animal.

“Eat boy. Don’t you have home works to do today? The exams are coming and you know, arathy aunty, she came the other day, her daughter scored hundred percent in all the subjects in the last exam. Why can’t you too do that? You are in a much better position.” Mother was chatting away.

He did not know in which way he was in a better position. He did not want to ask. He was more absorbed in the intrusion of strange thoughts in his mind.

“Mother, can I ask you something? He said.

“Oh what, do you want more curry” There are bananas in the store room. I will get it for you”. Mother started walking.

“No mother, it’s not that. I don’t need bananas.” He felt irritated.

“What? The movie! Not till the exams are over.” Mother started tying her hair into a bun.

“No, No, would you listen to me.” He felt anger rising in him.

No one listened to him till he finished saying what he wanted. Everyone told him what to do and how he did things wrongly and how he can do better.

“Amma, why is it like this? He could not go further.

“Why is what?” Mother looked at him curiously. He detected a faint smile in her.

“What I mean is why I am your son, you my mother….” He felt idiotic.

Mother laughed loudly. “What happened to you Ramu? Are you mocking me?”

“What I mean is who decides all this.” Why do we behave the way we do? Why did that tree branch fell on Aiswarya breaking her shoulder, even though she is a good girl?” Who wants us to be in pain, in sadness?” He felt that his eyes were filling with tears.

Mother held him close to her. She looked anxious.

“What are you asking? Is this the way a ten year old boy thinks?” “Look, nobody wants us in pain and misery.” Nothing bad will happen to you. You don’t join your grandmother for prayer now a day and that is the reason you get these weird thoughts.”

Mother started looking dismissive of his anguish and tried to cheer him up.

“Come on, go play with your friends. But remember to come back before sunset.”

Mother walked in to grandmother’s room. After a minute he tip toed to grandma’s room. He peeped inside. Grandmother was crushing betel leaves in the tiny mortar with tobacco and areca nut. Mother was talking to her in hushed tones. He strained his ears but could not hear.

But he heard grandma saying “The child might have gone to the sacred grove again. We don’t light the lamp there for months. The spirits induce weird thoughts.”

He heard his mother’s voice rise up…” oh come on, Mother, this is the new age. As the child’s father says, it is the age of reason.” He knew that it is the beginning of an argument between them. Slowly he moved out to the veranda and called out to his mother “I am going to prasanth’s house to play”.

“Ok. But don’t be late”. Mother said. He walked to the river. The rain last night has given moistness to the surroundings. The sun was setting.

He stood near the river bank motionless. He could smell the cool air and felt its moist touch in his nostrils. The light hit on the rippling waters and reflected on his face. He looked at the treeless expanse and his eyes strained to see the end of the land. The sun light hit on his face and the shirtless body browning it further. There was a lone eagle hovering over the sky. The calmness pervaded in the atmosphere was taking the senses into dissolution. He jumped into the river. The river still kept its coolness. The cool water below and the warm sun above, the thought made him laugh.

He laughed aloud like a mad man. The laughter reverberated in the air echoing from all directions and came back to him, then again expanded into the void. Tiny fishes swam under and a water snake hurried past. There were only reflections and echoes. The observer gets observed, and the observer of the observer is also observed. Then who is the true observer who is not being observed. The thoughts stood still for a tiny second. A wind blew, the sand flew in the air taking with it feathers of a dead eagle. The feather moved where the wind took it. A sense of great calm pervaded and he floated feeling weightless.

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