October 1981
The idea of summer not ending with rain was unheard of in Bhabra. Yet that year, the monsoons stayed for a while longer. A bit too long if someone asked Madhu.
She was sitting at the feet of her grandpa, who was in his usual rocking chair, her chubby face red and eyes swollen, fingers absently braiding her doll's hair. Papa couldn't come to visit in spite of the promise he had made to her, the beautiful Rangoli she had helped her Ma make in the courtyard had been washed away by the rain, and Grandpa had refused to tell her the story of the adventures of Lord Hanuman, too occupied with fiddling the knobs of his radio, trying to catch the news station. On top of everything, she couldn't light a single cracker, for the black sky won't stop crying.
Worst Diwali ever.
"Madhu beta, do you want more kheer?" her Ma called from the kitchen, finishing up cleaning the usual after-dinner mess.
She stayed silent, wanting to punish her mother by not replying. Pushing the doll aside, she picked at the shiny stones embroidered on her new pink lehenga, a bright traditional skirt. The one Papa had bought for her. The same one he couldn't give it to her himself. It was itchy and stiff. She hated it.
"MADHULIKA!" Ma switched to her roaring voice she reserved for when she was angry. "DO YOU WANT THE KHEER OR NOT?"
Madhu still didn't answer her. Above her, she heard a deep chuckle. "Give me all the kheer Mahima," Grandpa said. "Little Madhu here has lemons tucked in both her cheeks."
"I do not!" Madhu crossed her arms over her chest, or she tried to at least. She hadn't quite learned to do that as impressively as her mother.
Bending down, the old man easily lifted Madhu and made her sit on his knee. "Really? Then what is this?" he asked, poking her round cheeks.
"That's my face silly!" She giggled, her tiny hand swatting his wrinkly one.
"Oh yes that was silly of me," he said in a mock-serious voice. "I thought you were hiding lemons in your cheeks. That was what Hanuman ji thought the sun was right?"
"Noooo you're wrong again Dadu!" Madhu yelled, sounding delighted at the prospect of correcting her grandfather. "Hanuman ji thought the sun was a mango not a lemon."
"Ah right, he did, didn't he?" Krishna Ram Thakur tucked his granddaughter's hair behind her ear. "You already know everything about Hanuman ji, why do you want me to tell you his story?"
"Because I like the way you tell it," she whined. "Please Dadu, please please pleaseeee!"
At that moment, Mahima entered the living room with a tray in hand. Laughing at the sight before her, she settled on the sofa beside her father-in-law's chair. He lifted his sugarless cup of chai as she sipped on her own. Even Madhu happily snatched her bowl of kheer, forgetting all about staying angry.
"Okay so, once upon a time, a childless and devotional couple, Kesari and his wife Anjani, prayed to Lord Shiva and..."
For the next few hours until bedtime, Madhu eagerly listened to her Grandpa's stories, with her mother adding little inputs from time to time. It was a comfortable domestic scene, with oil filled diyas, traditional mud lamps, alight all around them, which, along with the dim bulb hanging over them, filled the room with a soft yellow glow.
When the clock struck ten, Madhu was ushered inside her room which she shared with Ma. Like always, the little night owl refused to fall asleep, and her mother fell into slumber before her. Madhu didn't disturb her, and quietly stared at the ceiling Ma had painted just a year ago, a picture showing ancient fables.
Just as her eyes started to droop, she heard a sudden, purposeful rapping over the thunderous rain, followed by the sound of her grandpa grunting and muttering about his aching limbs.
Slowly, she lifted the sheet covering her tiny frame and scooted away from her lightly snoring mother. Their door had been oiled just that morning, and Madhu heaved a sigh of relief when it didn't creak like usual as she opened it.
The little bells in her anklets chimed as her feet pattered across the hall lining the courtyard, where rain was still falling, albeit a bit lightly. She saw her dadu talking to a man as old as him, though much thinner and with a head full of paper white hair instead of the shiny bald patch Krishna Ram Thakur sported. A skinny, lanky boy was sitting down next to the stranger, in a small puddle of water that was made by his drenched clothes. Both of them were soaking wet.
She stopped to stand beside her grandfather, who automatically lifted and planted her on his hip like a clingy monkey. Young Madhu always made him forget about his rusty joints.
She eyed the boy; whose face was ashen and lined with dirty tear tracks. He was a bony creature and Madhu wanted to fetch her mother to give him something to eat. But Ma was sleeping and would be angry if she got to know Madhu was up. Thus, she continued to study the boy, who looked to be older than her, catching snippets of the conversation, or argument, her grandfather was having with the other old man.
"...there was a flood...my entire house washed away...didn't know where else to go...found this boy floating on a log...unconscious...parents nowhere to be seen..."
"...you know you're always welcome here...can't stay like a servant...you're my friend..."
"...can't accept your charity; I would leave if you insist...you had promised me an occupation..."
"...not as my servant! Please Raghu come stay in the guest room, you don't need to work..."
"...you had promised..."
"...okay eat something first, you're both shaking..."
Krishna Thakur strode over to the kitchen and motioned them to follow. Putting Madhu down, he instructed her to go back to bed, and Madhu could never say no to a direct order from him.
But she wanted to do the exact opposite. There was a boy her age here! She had a new playmate! She didn't know what a flood was, maybe it was a sweet or something. Regardless, she was glad that this flood thing came, it found her a new friend. And if what she heard was true, then this friend would stay with them!
She pretended to go back to her room, acting all demure, but she had a mind most four-year olds didn't, and knew how to hide herself. Instead of entering the room she shared with her mother, she sneaked off to the storeroom, which had a diagonal view into the combined dining room and kitchen on the other side of the open courtyard.
Sure enough, she soon saw the boy and the old man coming out, followed by her grandfather. For the first time that night, Madhu was grateful when the rain started pouring down harder, completely concealing the jingle of her anklet bells. Dadu retired to his own room after showing them the guest quarters.
"I'll start working on your lodgings first thing tomorrow. Beside the cow shed you said?"
The old man nodded, before clasping her dadu's hand in his own and thanking him for some reason. Madhu waited patiently until she saw him go back inside his own room.
The old man had gone to use the washroom beside the guest room and Madhulika saw this to be the perfect opportunity. She stepped inside the guest room, eager to introduce herself. Her smile disappeared, however, when she saw the skinny boy sobbing into his knees in a corner.
"You shouldn't cry in this weather; you'd catch a cold." She repeated her Ma's words from earlier that day. Walking up to him, she sat on the floor beside the boy.
He looked up from his knees, surprise evident on his tear and snot stroked face. "Wh...what?" He hiccupped, roughly wiping his nose on his shoulder, the dirty cloth of his shirt making it look worse than before.
"I said crying in this weather makes you sick. That's what Ma says anyway. And I don't want you to fall sick, how would we play then? You're staying here no? I heard Dadu saying so. It'll be so fun, just you wait! We'll go to the forest together, and play icepice and I have soooo many toys, we'll get you some too!" Madhu chattered loudly, trying all the tricks in the book her mother used to cheer her up.
The boy continued to look at her strangely, eyes wide at the speed with which Madhu was talking. "To...toys?"
"Yes! I got a new doll from the Diwali fair yesterday! There were cars there too! You'll like the cars no? We'll go to the fair tomorrow, when the rain stops. You can ask your papa too, that old man is your papa no?"
At this, his eyes teared up again. "N...no I met Raghu Kaka yesterday only. My Baba just vanished. He told me to wait for him and Amma near the tree but there was so much water it...it...I don't know something happened and I don't remember much." He started sobbing again. "He said he'll come for me, but he's been gone for three days now and...and...and he doesn't even know where I am!"
"Yes," Madhu nodded sagely. "My papa also said he would come here but he didn't. All papas can be like that sometimes, but he'll be here soon don't worry. Papas are late but they always come back." Madhu couldn't understand why this boy was crying so much, his father was only in the city to earn money no? Like all fathers do.
"I...I hope so."
"Anyway, my name is Madhu and I'm four years old." She held out four fingers for him to see. "How old are you?"
"I...I don't know. Amma says this is my seventh Diwali, so this much I think," he said, holding out seven fingers.
"You don't know your birthday?" she asked, shocked.
Slowly, he shook his head.
Now this was where young Madhu felt sad. When did he get gifts then? Birthdays are so fun, and he didn't even know his, how did he celebrate?
"So, you don't get gifts? Well that's a shame. Dadu gifted me a picture book when I turned four, because I can't read you see? Ma said that when I'm seven, I would be able to read both Hindi and English. Can you read?"
Disappointment settled in Madhu's stomach when he once again shook his head. The boy looked close to tears again, tears of embarrassment this time.
"No, no don't cry please!" Madhu's own bottom lip quivered at the prospect. "I'm sure Ma would teach you too, we will learn together."
"Sh...she will?" Hope flared in his eyes as he gazed at young Madhu in wonder.
She nodded reassuringly, the long rings in her newly pierced ears clanking in merriment as she did so.
And that was when a smile appeared. A smile that transformed his entire face. His cheeks didn't look so sallow anymore, they looked full and healthy and his watery eyes sparkled. Madhu felt bubbles rising in the pit of her stomach, it always excited her when her dadu smiled because of her. Now, she could make this boy here smile too! She immediately resolved to do exactly that in the days to come.
"You didn't tell me your name," she said, matching his grin with a shy one of her own.
"Nakul," he mumbled.
Madhu frowned. "Nakoo? What sort of a name is that? Why would your parents call you a nose?" She touched her own to emphasise her point.
"No not Nakoo like a nose, but Nakul. He was in the Mahabharat."
"What's Mahabharat?"
Nakoo only shrugged in response. "I don't know, it's just what my father told me."
"You kids haven't heard the Mahabharat?" asked a deep, low voice behind Madhu. She whipped her head to see the old man who had come to stay with Nakoo entering the room.
"No," the children replied in unison.
He moved over to his cot, slowly and lethargically like old people usually move, and sat down, letting out a heavy sigh, before saying, "Well, we would have to change that now eh? Come on here, it's story time."
When the two kids had hurriedly rushed to sit on the ground at his feet, he began, his self-assured voice immediately commanding their attention. "Now Mahabharat itself is the name of a great war that lasted eighteen whole days and destroyed mankind as we know it. But the story begins much before that. Once upon a time, thousands of years before the time of the father of your great-grandfather, there was a king named Shantanu. He was the ruler of Hastinapur and was married to Ganga..."
And thus, for the next three years, began the nightly storytelling sessions with the old man — Raghu Kaka, as Madhu and Nakoo later came to call him. Though Nakoo's father or mother didn't really return like they had promised him, the young boy soon began to think about them less and less, finding his family in the old man who had saved him. When Raghu Kaka was done telling them all the stories of ancient times, he started making some of his own.
The last story Madhu ever heard from him was one such original creation, about a princess with a forehead full of needles. The next day, Mahesh Lal Thakur arrived in Bhabra to take his wife and daughter back to Delhi with him.
Madhulika Thakur only returned twenty-two years too late.
These kids are adorable no? xD
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lehenga- traditional skirt
diya- mud lamps that are filled with oil and lit during festivals and prayer times
baba- dad/papa
dadu- granpa
amma- mom