That summer

By Samreen Taufique

The first time I parted with my parents was in the cold winter of 1995. I remember my tears streaming down, turning cold with each wave of chilling wind. Beside me was an attendant, holding my luggage. My feet were reluctant to

move and the attendant had to convince me a lot to go inside. At last, I agreed. My hands felt the roughness and wrinkles of the other's hand as I turned around . I can't ever forget the

smiling face of 'Mama' , as children used to call him. I smiled through my tears , looking at him as my mind engraved the writing on the big board ahead of me . It was a place where I would be staying for the next two years . A hostel.

The first few weeks were not that bad , the food was good and I was often allowed to talk with my mother on the local telephone. And lastly, the school. It was big and one had to strain their neck to see the whole building. It

was not like those I used to have in my hometown, small and abandoned. At that time, I felt pure happiness of having an identity of belonging here.

Thing were nice until the summer of the next year. During the days, I spent most of my time counting the birds on the tree, visible from my window . I saw another group of boys arriving in the hostel . They were new students. I was the only one of a very young age compared to those boys in their prime teen years. During dinner I saw them talking among each other, introducing themselves, laughing . No one approached me for which I was thankful. I preferred loneliness more.

The following days, I avoided them. Sometimes they would catch a glimpse of me. Some smiled and some looked with Ingenuous eyes. I never cared to make myself known and by observing they didn't too. I was happy in my own bubble.

At night I would see them with bored eyes, playing carom or just sitting in groups. My eyes would become droopy soon.

Then, one night, I was awakened by a loud noise. To me it sounded like a loud wail of an elephant. I saw with wide and unfocused eyes, One of the boys holding a trumpet near my ears. All of them laughing and some just smirking. My breathing grew ragged as I made myself smaller in front of them.

Then someone pulled me by my arms, and then pushed again. I fell down.

" Look at this weakling, can't even stand up " I heard.

" He doesn’t deserve to live among us" I closed my eyes tightly. My memories of what happened next is vague. Maybe, I can't remember it at all or I wanted to forget. I think they left me after that.

The bullying didn't stop. Sometimes they asked me to do their chores. And sometimes they make me dance, sing or imitate weird noises of different animals. I was afraid and lonely. I wanted to complain to our warden but the mere thought of the consequences afterwards scared me. Yes, I was a coward.

The bullying became out of control when I was locked up in the darkness of a storeroom all night. I was afraid of the dark, I still am and they knew it. I cried and screamed to let me out, My hand never seized from beating the wooden door but no one came. I remember running away the next day at dawn and the surprised eyes of the sweeper when she opened the gate. Crossing the boundary, for which I was reluctant to cross so far, I jumped out of the campus. My mind wanted solitary and I sought for it. I came across a familiar lake, I often saw this lake travelling through the

towns with my parents but seeing it enclose was different. The waves calmed me and the gurgle of water made my stuck breath be exhaled in relief. I don't remember how much time I spent there but my mind was thinking nothing in particularly.

It was sudden but a ball thrashed onto my head. Peace? Where do one can find it? I turned around and saw a boy trotting over towards me. He stopped directly in front of me and apologetically smiled. His eyes

disappearing into crescents.

" I am sorry, I didn't mean to" his voice was childish and carried a hint of mischievousness. He was of my age but taller in height. I didn't say anything. I saw the boy running down the bank to fetch his ball and then climbing up again.

The boy stopped in front of me again and fished his pockets. Then a hand was extended in front of me. It held a candy. It was for apologies, he said.

I took the candy, but my hand was grabbed by the boy as soon as I retreated it. I realised. My hands had many scratches, some deep and some only visible as scratches. I made those myself overnight because I was afraid of the darkness. The pain calmed me, I never thought of the outcome.

" You are hurt " I cursed mentally and my eyes were piercing needles at the boy. I forcefully retreated my hand.

" It's not your business " I said. It came out much harshly than I expected. The boy didn't seem to be bothered with it, but I saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

" You are from the school nearby right?" I looked at him broodily not interested in answering.

" And you are from the hostel? "

He asked again. I grew restless from the interrogations. The boy then lounged himself down beside me. I scooted further away . I didn't answer any of his questions but he looked as if he knew everything beforehand. " Then it is my business. You see, I am the son of the attendant working there."

He was the son of Mama.

I looked at the boy bewildered and then asked the only thing scaring me at that time. " Would you tell him?"

The boy chuckled and shook his head in denial, the chuckled both relieved me and calmed me. A laugh from an actual person and a

conversation was far more comforting than the lake itself.

" I won't do it, right now I am too sneaking out. It's not much of a big deal."

I heard him say, his voice fading into the gurgle of water. Then he looked down again, with his bottom lip between his teeth.

I followed his gaze and it landed on my forearm. " You should disinfect it" he said, I didn't pay attention. I didn't want to. If the boys back in hostel would see bandages on my arm, I didn't know what they will do.

We sat there silently for some time until a loud bell jolted us. It was the school bell.

" Shouldn't we be in the school right now?" The boy questioned. His features utterly relaxed like it was normal for him. By now, people must have already realised our absence. We went to the same school and we were both skipping it.

Then at a distant we heard a shout of ' Krishn '. The boy abruptly stood up.

" Oh no my father is here " my eyes widened in horror, we were both doomed. We sprinted towards the back wall and surprisingly he helped me to hoist up on the wall. Then I gave him a hand. Once we were on the opposite side, he was in a hurry to make a run for the school but I caught his wrist. I am not sure what was going in my mind at that time but I didn't want to let go of him. He talked to me when everyone was evil around me, I was happy. He looked taken aback and his mouth parted to say something but I was faster.

" My name is Ashraf " I let out. I saw him smile again.

In my memory, I remember him introducing himself " Krishn" rather hastily and then sprinting away, leaving me to stare at his back.

His hair a light shade of brown with black blotches.

I again went to the lake side the next day, earlier than yesterday. My legs took me there and my mind was sure that Krishn would come again. He did.

I ran to him when I saw him up the heels waving at me. His ball again in the warmth of his arms.

Gradually it became a routine, me sneaking out of the hostel and Krishn waiting for me at the river bank. Some days we would show each other our drawings and on others we would talk about how the stars are made or how we are alive. Everyday before sleeping, I would look ahead for the following morning. On the other side, the bullying was regular but it didn't affected me like before. Sometimes Krishn asked me how I get these bruises and I

would ignore his questions. He knew the answer always but he never initiated to enquire about it.

The summer fell and winter was at its peak. Our bond grew deeper and our friendship blossomed beautifully.

It was in the end of February of 1997, that everything started to wither out.

The time I was thrown into the wall harshly by the bullies that my forehead bled. The bandages angered Krishn so much. I saw rage in his eyes for the first time and it overwhelmed me. The rage was for me.

The bullies were punished but I saved them. I convinced the authorities that it was an accident. I was a fool.

The bullies were chaotic the next day, they cornered me in the washroom. The main of them ' Rohan' was tightly clenching a bat in his

hand. My body shook with fear when one of them kicked my torso. I shrieked and coiled myself on the floor, I wanted to speak and shout at them to stop it but my voice betrayed me. I still hate it to this day that I wasn't able to defend myself.

Just amidst when I was fearing for my life, I heard a voice. The same soft voice but it was strained this time, I thought of it to be an illusion but it wasn't. Through the wet blur of my eyes and eyelashes I saw him standing on the doorway. He wasn't alone, ' Mama ' was with him along with few more people and our warden.

With fearful eyes and shaking body I watched the scene. Each one of my bully forcefully getting dragged out. I never saw them again in my life. They were expelled then.

I was engulfed into a hug afterwards, Krishn's warmth spread into me and I exhaled in relief. I saw Mama standing there and looking at me pitifully, he didn't look surprised at all seeing us.

I learnt that way, how much a unbreakable bond means. We were inseparable, at least our hearts but destiny was cruel.

My parents were informed and they didn't hesitate to get my admission elsewhere, in a different town.

It was the summer of 1997, I vaguely remember Krishn holding my hands tightly and not willing to let go. His chubby cheeks wet with tears and his sobs, they shook my soul. We cried for eternity that day. I waved at him from the bus, when the vehicle started to speed up, I saw him running behind the bus until he became smaller and smaller then disappeared from the road.

I still remember his face, his laugh and that summer when we were separated and until 10 years later we didn't meet again.

By Samreen Taufique