Father on Sunday

Wearing a hand sewn shirt with multi colored patches to conceal new and old tear marks, a rugged jeans passed down from generations and walking barefoot, the hazel eyed, fair complexioned boy came to a halt as something in distance caught his fancy. A blue plastic rimmed goggles hanging in Kader bhai’s shop lured him to no end. Poking deep in the only pocket of his centuries-old jeans, Ghulam felt something tinkling.

Elated with this source of joy Ghulam tottered to the shop when suddenly the little boy stopped in his tracks. Sensing the presence of Rasool in proximity, Ghulam ducked in besides a certain Maulwi. On reaching the small but attractive fancy toy shop, he hid himself under the parapet of Kader Bhai’s shop. Still under Rasool’s spell, Ghulam didn’t notice when Kader Bhai carried him inside the shop. Feeling secure in his arms Ghulam chuckled and literally ordered his favorito articulo..

Placing the single shilling on his old, gruff palms Ghulam scurried across the haat to the ruins he called his home.

Seated in the cold environs of his home which in fact was a two storeyed dilapidated building left over by his forefathers apart from the other gift he was yet to find out!! The nawabi style construction was on the banks of river Jharna whose water shone like blue emerald.After taking a dip in the majestic water body, he put on the only clothing he had apart from the muslin kurta pyajam he wore only on Sundays. Feeding himself on previous day’s leftovers the chotte nawab as Ghulam’s father had fondly called him until he died few years back, went out for a stroll on the river side. Under the star studded sky he felt as if abbu and ammi were looking down over him,the sky secured him like a mother’s touch,like a father’s embrace.

As the whole of Mudali was devoured by the moonlit night sky with a grey shadow cast over the entire populace of about 1000,Ghulam returned.With palpable excitement rushing through his veins,anticipating the next day he went to sleep. But how could sleep,when it hadn’t even started its journey to his eyes. Lying on the granite floor with a tattered sheet covering him half, Ghulam tossed  in the deep sea of imagination. Finally, sometime before dawn the hazel eyes shut as the 9 year orphan drifted off to sleep envisaging a future with his father!!

Next morning brought in sea of hopes for Ghulam as it always did, Sundays had been his favorite day ever since he turned 5. At around 10:00,dressed in off white faded muslin kurta pyajama ,a topi smaller than his head and the blue rimmed goggles,Ghulam sat on the river bank waiting for his messiah.He was going to play peek-a-boo with him,he decided and chuckled to himself.Also abbu would have to tell a story, Ghulam badly wanted to hear his favorite fable.

35year old huge and gigantic Rasool lurked in the vicinity waiting for the opportunity to lay his hands on Ghulam.

While on the other hand,Ghulam darted across the sandy shores with his arms spread like an eagle. He leapt to to his feet and clung onto his father’s back. Laughing out loud with his Father on Sunday,Ghulam was a perfectly happy child oblivious to the outside world consisting of Rasool whose roving eyes were set on him.

As if someone had strangled him to death, Rasool gasped for breath leaning on the adjacent tree for support. Steeping forward, his curious got an unhindered view that blew off his top. With no abbu to be seen anywhere, Ghulam seemed to be chatting animatedly with nothing but thin air. The little kid played peek-a-boo with nobody looking for him, ran around the house in shambles with none chasing him.

With dusk setting in, Rasool crouched in the darkest corner of his little dingy office with head held in palms and sweating profusely.Taken aback by what he  saw today the paedophile could not focus on his daily chore of abusing and exploiting kids! Stammering to himself as he always did when scared, he smoked pot to relax and lied down pondering over his plan for the next day.

The child is a schizophrenic from what I can conclude from your description Mr.Rasool, guffawed Dr.Abdul, a pot bellied man of 50. And no, this disease is not contagious.The child must have had some history leading to the degradation of his brain. Ghulam’s father is a figment of his imagination, the dead is alive in his own little world. But the food for thought is what exactly is the relation between Sunday, his dead father and this disease. Ghulam is a perfectly normal child any other day barring the fact that every Sunday his brain gets entangled and transfers him to virtual-ity.

After a reality check with the doctor and satisfied with his verdict Rasool devised a plan to trap Ghulam and trade him in the child market.A week passed in feverish anticipation with Ghulam waiting for next tete-e-tete with abbu and Rasool for Ghulam….

While waiting for his father the next Sunday, Ghulam’s eyes lit up on the sight of orange colored candies scattered across in some distance. What he didn’t see was Rasool standing slightly behind him. As Ghulam bent forward to collect the candies, Rasool dashed towards his prey catching him off guard. A tussle followed lasting for a good 15-20 minutes after which Ghulam sunk his teeth in Rasool’s flesh. As he yelped in pain, Ghulam freed his body from the monstrous clutches and sprinted to the river shouting Abba!!! Rasool followed the child far into the river until the fear of drowning engulfed him. A huge wave crashed on the shores taking in Ghulam’s little body while Rasool’s luck favored him heavily. Hanging onto an inflated tyre, he dragged his body to the shores to safety!! The wave devoured Ghulam and saved Rasool!!!!!

Ghulam’s little body was lowered into earth as the Maulwi chanted holy quran. He was buried besides the grave of a certain Mr.Karin who stopped breathing 4 years ago on Sunday,5th December 2001.

Someone from the crowd murmured like father,like son!!!!

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