My Last Story

It's said that what you express as an artist, is sum of your life’s experience – conscious, semi-conscious or unconscious. As I grew older by the day, and my life became less eventful, I found very few topics to write about. To think about it, I had actually penned down most of my experiences. Being a professional writer has its own challenges. My bread is earned by submitting work in due time. It seemed I have hit writer’s block – can’t think of a single thing to write. I needed a break and may be some inspiration.

A quite place in a low budget is all I needed. The smell of sal leaves as my shared cab trudged along is refreshing. In another two and a half hour I was in Kalimpong. I had pre-booked a quaint homestay away from the buzz for a week. I could already start to feel that it’s coming back.

It’s easier said, and maybe felt, than done. When I sat down with my copy and pen, nothing. Not a single idea, not a single word came to my mind. Sankar, the caretaker, got me a sipping cup. It helped my mood to take in the scenic beauty but not my creativity. I decided to call it a day. I went for a walk in the nearby area.

Life in the hills is tough. But people seemed more content than down on the plains. Life is slow and everyone seems to take a moment to enjoy the surroundings, and sometimes send out a prayer of thanks for what they have. That’s when in the setting sun, I saw a little girl, playing all alone. She was like 5 or 6, I guess. She was in her own world, may be where she was a princess, and everything was pink. She looked at me and smiled. Then she asked, “Do you want to play with me?”

I was not used to someone getting so friendly so quickly, but maybe it was her age which preserved her innocence, or maybe it was the magic of the hills. I did not realize that maybe it was already a few minutes and yet I did not answer. She came right back, “My name is Mini. Do you want to listen to my story?”

Viola. That’s what I needed. A story. It’s right here.

The air was getting chilly with the setting sun. I sat down on a rock, she sat right beside me. Then she started with the weirdest opening statement, “Do you know no one loves me anymore?”

Mini continued, “Earlier my mom used to wake me up from sleep with a loving kiss. But for the last few days, I wake up alone. Everyone, even my mummy, seems busy with their own work. They just don’t have time for me”. How can anybody treat such an adorable kid like that. “Dada, my elder brother, used to play with me all the time. But now he just goes out to play. He doesn’t even bother to invite me. I play on my own”. I finally said, “That’s not fair”. But before I could say anything further, she interrupted me and continued, “Papa is the worst. Earlier he always used a bring a flower for me when he got back and put it in my hair. But recently he even stopped that”. This seemed so odd. “My nani seems to ignore my presence.” At this moment it was getting a bit too much for me. I asked, “What happened? Were you naughty? What did you do?” She smiled back, “Nothing, just been my usual self. Will you talk to my mummy and papa. Maybe you can talk to dada too.” “Why not?”, I said, “Maybe tomorrow. I need to get back.” She again interrupted, “But I just live down the street”. There was a sense of disappointment in her voice. I felt too bad to let her down. Anyways, it’s not too far off.

Mini hopped her way ahead of me. She said, “Here”, as she entered her house. It was pretty crowded. It seemed some sort of prayer service was going on. It was actually a prayer service for the soul of someone who departed. No wonder why family was busy. Her family is drowned in grief. As I walked slowly to the center of the service, I could see the photo of the person who left the family in sorrow - I was just staring at the photo of Mini.