Mountains Call For A Life

By Shashwat Sahoo

Shivani woke up under the warm gaze of the lofty mountains. Not your green hills that insinuate nature and beckon you for a walk among the high trees. No, these were mountains as high as the moon, with sharp edges reflecting the warm morning amber and white caps announcing their majesty over all that breathe beneath. Mountains that protect you; like the monarch that you gaze upon from afar but dare not go near.

Shivani woke up under the lofty mountains, tucked into a small town at the foot of the monarch.

On the 20th day, it was the height of December but she didn’t wait for the mind to accustom to the waking hours. Shivani sprang up and went straight to the roof. That had been her routine since the beginning of the school vacation. And this vacation had turned out to be more exciting than she had hoped for. This far up north, the winter vacations are longer than the summer vacations and kids are spared the brutalities of biting cold at 8 am school assemblies.

Her dad had told her that they would be going down to Ambala tomorrow but 10-year-old Shivani had pushed that to the back of her head. All she cared about these days was the family across the street. During school days she was out before daybreak but now she could see them go about their lives, all in front of her.

Shivani lived in an old, spacious two-story house with bright pink on. The pretty dressing had well-hidden the disrepair of the broken edges and corners. From atop the two floors, she could see the small house across the street, with the roof barely holding up. There was a veranda in the front with a rocking chair. The outside of the small house was unpainted cement with green mold creeping up from the corners. But the walls inside were brightly coloured, blue and green. She could only see the walls through the windows to one of the bedrooms.

The young couple lived in that bedroom.

They had been married just last winter. The road in front of their house had been decorated for over a week and there was music at night. Shivani had wondered even back then, why she couldn’t go to the wedding. They never really interacted with the neighbours. She had never talked to them- not the young couple and not their old father. She just satisfied herself with observing them.

This morning, she was looking for someone else, though. There had been a recent addition to the family. A little baby girl had been born a few months back. The baby had a habit of waking up early and Shivani didn’t want to miss its little trips to the veranda. The baby’s mother would stroll across the house and to the doors with the baby in her arms. It was a tiny little head propped up against the mother’s shoulders. It had the tiniest life in it, its cries barely making it up to Shivani’s roof.

Shivani would laugh at the smallest movements the baby would make and the mother would sometimes look up to her with a kind face- proud of her baby. It was only a short ritual for Shivani. Once it was gone, it was a long wait till the nights when the baby’s grandfather would sometimes rock her out on the chair. Those days were an extra treat.

Shivani had been late yesterday and didn’t want to make the mistake again. Hence, the hurry. She rushed to the roof and peaked down.

Nothing.

Her face dropped. Can the bright sun ever make you feel cold? Maybe the soft rays bring out the cold in the body. Her cheeks were cracking already. She called out to her dad inside the house, “What time?”

Before he could respond though, Shivani heard a cooing.

She rushed back to the edge of the roof and her face lit up brighter than the snow-caps. A tiny doll, with cheeks puffed red and head packed in a monkey cap, was turning from side to side. On any previous day, Shivani would have skipped blinking just to catch the entire morning parade of the baby. But she had woken up with a different mission today.

She shot a quick glance down at the street. From side to side.

And she dashed for the stairs.

She was now on the street, getting as close to the baby as she had ever been. She felt her heart pulling up and down as she mumbled the words once more. She straightened her sweater and arranged her braids to the sides. Yes. She was ready.

“Aunty, she is very cute!” She delivered her opening.

She got a confused but kind smile in return.

Now for the main task.

She turned to the grandfather sitting on this chair in the left corner of the veranda. “Uncle, will you be playing with baby this evening?”

He took a moment to raise his eyes to her. Then to the baby and the mother. His expressions didn’t change one bit. His hands continued to fidget with a paper with a little paste on it. A little bit of Afeem to energise an old frame. This was his daily ritual.

Shivani started regretting coming. But this was important. Her dad had told her that they were going to leave by the early morning bus tomorrow and she was to go shopping for relatives today. Tonight was her last chance and she didn’t want to lose out on anything.

Finally, the grandfather burst out laughing and walked up to the baby. He took her in his arms and turned to Shivani. He didn’t say anything but gave her a reassuring nod.

With that, he turned and walked back into the house, and Shivani was left dancing on the streets.

With the day spent collecting gifts for all relations, it was already 6 pm and home was 1 hour away. Shivani was getting impatient now and hated her dad for making it difficult for her to keep her word. They had to be home by 7 to catch a glimpse of the sleepy infant.

This was hopeless. She had already exhausted her legs and was dragging her shoes in disgust of the whole day. Finally, her dad said, “Okay, we will leave now. Happy?”

“You want to take gifts for your cousins. No?” She nodded, although she suspected that he was just done with his chores and was ready to go home. The stories of the baby were a good enough gift she was taking for the cousins, she thought.

Shivani was trying her best to be quick but when she reached her street, the doors to the small house were already shut. She peaked from corner to corner but no one was in sight. She let out a cry and ran up to her house. Her dad followed with a sigh.

All through dinner, she didn’t speak to her dad. She had missed her last chance and nothing could bring it back. No amount of pleading and no number of promises.

When her dad came to tuck her in for the night, she said, “I won’t talk to you on the whole way to Ambala!”

Shivani only calmed a little when her dad assured her that they won’t be gone for long and that by the time they come back, the baby wouldn’t have grown too big. She would be just as tiny and just as cute and just as interesting.

Shivani made a silent prayer for this to be true. She couldn’t take chances.

And with eyes heavy and breadth shallow, with hopes high and worries mellow, she flew over to the dreams.

On the 21st of December, Shivani woke up to a silence that rang sharper than the biting cold of the dawn. “Peace of the morning?” she wondered, trying to wake up before getting a rap from her dad. But it’s hard. Especially when you know that you have to get back to sleep on the bus soon! She pulled up the blankets and rolled a layer under her feet as well. Just 5 more minutes. She had half an eye open, waiting for a glimpse of her dad at the door.

But no one came.

She rubbed her eyes and sat a little straight. That’s when she heard it.

A shrill scream. Cutting through walls and then dying out, followed by a hurl of voice-tearing shouts. Then the dying scream again.

It was coming from outside.

Shivani rushed to the roof to find her dad standing at the edge looking down. She ran to him, “What’s happening?”

This seemed to pull her dad back to the present and he picked her up and said, “Get ready quickly. We are already late.” But he sounded as unconcerned with the command as he was stern.

They were on the road within 15 minutes, locking their gates. But time seemed to have frozen in a loop, with the same screams and the same crowd. Only this time, she got a better view.

The couple was standing out and the grandfather was in a corner, seeming much too engrossed in the button of his sweater. The hopeless howls belonged to the young mother next to the door. The baby was also present in her arms. All wrapped up and snug. Silent as a snail. Amidst all the commotion out there, Shivani cracked a grin at the sight of the baby.

Shivani knew it was going to be a good day, compensating for the disaster of the last two days. At least the baby was on her side. Not understanding the fuss.

Not caring.

Not crying.

Shivani would have assumed sleep and walked on with her dad, but for the roar of the mother-

“You killed her!”

Shivani pulled out her hands from her dad’s hands and her smile froze on her face.

The young father stood helplessly as the mother bemoaned and threw vile curses at the grandfather. No one stepped in.

“You murderer!” no one made a move.

“Fool.” “Idiots.” “Pathetic,” murmured a few. But no one consoled the mother.

Shivani’s father yanked her and started moving through the crowd. The last thing she saw was the face of the grandfather. He hadn’t looked up once. Neither had his bulging eyes blinked. His lips were shivering but no words were coming out. Cowering in a corner, hands hanging out in the open, he seemed resigned.

Years later, with the memory still haunting her, she would be told- that night, the grandfather had been sitting out on his chair with the baby in hand. With temperatures dropping by the minute, he had given a bit of his Afeem to the fussing baby; hoping to warm up her weak constituency. It had done its job perfectly, as it had for the grandfather for years now. The baby had stopped crying and they had all gone in for a peaceful sleep.

But come morning, the baby was no more.

At least this is what the town talked of. Maybe it was simply the cold. Maybe it was the curse of an evil eye. Would it have mattered?

They boarded the bus before the crack of the first light. Once in her seat, tucked in a blanket, Shivani felt a vacuum tugging at her chest and threatening to pull out her breakfast from her stomach. She hid her face as her emotions took over and her mind began spinning. She felt almost responsible. Like she was supposed to care, to console. But she was going. Why did her dad not do anything? So many people. No one could do anything? Someone should do something.

Someone.

Perhaps the mountain will come up in the morning and be the protector it had promised to be…

She dozed off as the bus turned along the hairpin curves. A life lost to the lofty mountains and no one cared.

The next morning Shivani woke up to city life all around. The mountains too came up again- as stoic as ever, as majestic as ever.

And no one cared.

By Shashwat Sahoo