The Lake

CHAPTER 1

"Thirteen! - that's my highest" I exclaimed with pride, returning from school.

Sagar's face tilted in disapproval "You are lying".

Under the sultry sun we dragged our slippers. Our sling bags dangled over our knees.

"I will show you" I challenged. Sagar was jealous. He was an amateur in the game.

"I remember you made it nine yesterday, not thirteen." Sagar complained.

"That was when you left… just because you couldn't make it beyond four." I teased him.

Sagar pressed his lips. "You aren't better than Mahesh." He barbed.

"Soon I would be." I continued teasing, till we reached the giant mango tree.

From there, we ran through narrow pavements that separated crop fields, stumbled on few hard boulders and I even slipped on cow dung. One who reaches early to the lake would get an advantage of selecting better pebbles. The flat ones are the best, though they are vulnerable.

Once we reached the lake, I unearthed the pebbles that I had concealed yesterday. Then hastily, I started the game. I stood angular at the lake coast, bent my knees and crooked my hand. The projectile should be precise. I gazed at the lake, it appeared frozen. Wind was low and I was confident about the shot.

Splash! Four...five…. Six…. the pebble leaped like a frog. It plunged at eleven.

"Now you believe me?" I asked haughtily.

"Let me try" Sagar jumped to my place. He tried to imitate my posture. I was certain, he won't give a good throw. He noticed his hands and then lake, brought his feet together. His hands were trembling.

Two and …. Three, his pebble dived. I guffawed. Sagar pressed his lips together.

"Still yours wasn't thirteen" He complained in vexation.

"Let me show you again" I continued grinning.

"Nalayako, what are you doing? Pelting stones in lake!" Sagar and I were taken aback by loathsome yelling.

Sethji, an obese man, came running to us. "What game is this to throw stones?" He chided "What would you do when our lake gets filled up with stones. We would have no water only stones! This lake would get overloaded. Go run away. Go away or I will throw boulders on you!"

Sagar and I sprinted endlessly.

Only later, in the evening it was that Sethji's word impacted me. I have been throwing pebbles in the lake for past one year. Everyone one I know in the village does the same. Isn't the lake getting congested? Aren't we killing her?

For the rest of the day, these thoughts made me restless. Image of stones piling up to the surface of lake agitated me.

"We must not do it now." Sagar admitted returning from school, the next day. Despondency reflected in his voice. Won't I be able to try just few more times? At least when it rains heavily.

I turned towards the lake, I felt pity. We might have filled half of it, or three-fourth.

"Hope you are not planning to do it again" Sethji was standing on the bank of lake. "Idiots" he shouted in you-have-spoilt-the-lake gesture.

I bowed my head. Sethji is safeguarding our lake. Though he is abhorrent, he cannot see the lake getting murdered by me.

CHAPTER 2

Under the sparkling dark sky, I laid on my cot with grandmother. The sizzling day-roof was covered with cold air at night.

I had pondered over my sins day-long. How silly it was, in our childhood we believed in 'demon in the lake' stories. Every child was horrified and feared to play near the lake. Now that we have grown to prove the conjecture unacceptable, we have become insensitive. That tale might have been our legacy to protect killing of our lake. I was infuriated. If someone would throw stones now, our lake would die. Everything was miserable.

"Immhhh" I made a sound of helplessness.

"Beta, what happened?" Amma replied spontaneously.

I wanted to tell her about all this. I wished to try the game of 'swimming stone' one more time. She would have an alternative, I know.

"Amma, do you know the lake on the outskirts of our village?…" I began and told her everything.

She heard me elegantly. Frequently grinning and sometimes giggling.

"Haha ha… the lake won't get overloaded ever. It has been there from years. Like… do you see this sky with stars? There are lakhs of star but the voids are persistent, because the sky is humongous. Lake is a vast reservoir. Even thousands of stones won't choke it." She explained blissfully. Though I couldn't understand her much, her words were tranquilizing. I was joyous, I could now reach beyond thirteen jumps. I wanted to tell this to Sagar.

"….And Sethji. He thinks, no one knows what he is up to. Yesterday, his wife told the secret he is hiding to Guddi, and Guddi told Bimla, and Bimla told me. This village is all mouths and ears." Amma grinned. She was certain that she knows most important secrets of her village. Though I only half heard her explanations.

"Sethji's daughter is manglik, predicted that she is unfit for marriage. A pandit told him to offer coconuts for seven days to the lake. Only that could help lighten the bad omen. Poor girl, she is already twenty-five." Amma sighed heavily. "God is malignant only to innocents.…."

Till then, I had already fallen asleep with my mouth wide open.

CHAPTER 3

In the days that followed, my childhood lingered around the lake. I was the best 'stone thrower' of my village. Everyone was awed by my skills. In summer, I became an expert diver and the only one to cross the lake among my friends. We rolled in mud of lake shore and then dived in water. My skin had tanned to mud colour.

Midst of my jolly juvenescence, I plunged into the stories of lake. Every night my grandmother had a tale to tell.

"Do you remember the panditji of Radha-Krishna temple, who passed away last winter?" Amma asked one night.

"Hmm" I moaned.

"Years ago, his great grandfather predicted…, under the basin of our lake resides an idol of Maa Amba, the mother goddess. Rumours spread that 'man who unearths it, would draw the prosperity of hundred villages'."

A cold breeze blew, rustling a Neem tree that touched our roof wall.

"Some men came from distant places, only to be driven away by our villagers. Panditji assumed, Maa bestowed her blessings through lake. Hence, our village might die if someone steals the idol."

Amma smiled and closed her eyes for a moment of silent prayer.

"We are blessed to be born in this village." Amma smiled and hugged me.

Once, Sagar and I were returning from school, after summer holidays.

"Do you know about the four thieves, who died in the lake?" He asked with a heavy voice. From past few days, we had developed interest in discussing stories about the lake.

"A little, I think" I answered fearfully. Four men were found dead in our lake, rumours were that they were killed by a phantom. This story had haunted me, most of my childhood.

"My father says, there was a lot of investigation, but only in vain. There was no witness, only a clean death. He was first to see the four corpse floating in the lake…. He was forced to be an accused, tormented to death by police. His bruises have left life long scars." Sagar's eyes were horrified, filled with tears.

"Villagers protested for my father. They stormed the police station and fought against policemen. The police had no evidence, thus the case was closed and father was released. Villagers believed in the phantom, who killed those greedy men. They must have come to steal Maa Amba. My father says, only men from our village can realize the wrath of our lake. Outsiders consider them myths." His words were disheartening.

CHAPTER 4

When I was sixteen, Amma left us. Wailing of my mother was terrible, when she discovered Amma won't wake up from her profound sleep. Everyone in the village wept. We didn't eat for days, only grieved. In those times, a lot of relatives came and consoled us. My uncles were busy in preparing for funeral rites. Sometimes I overheard conversations about a gold chain Amma had.

"It must be equally distributed among us." One of my aunt had said in bold voice.

My cousins were either too young to understand anything, or mature enough to say "Everyone has to leave someday". But I felt a burst of nothingness, my mind became a void where nothing occurred. I couldn't understand if it was true. Sometimes, I felt everything was in its place, nothing had changed, my Amma would walk through that veranda grinning, or she had just gone to fields and would return with tangy raw mangos. It was hard to believe that death changes a lot of things.

After about a month, a strange loneliness overpowered me. I felt absence of a bushy tree, that gave me shade. It was unbearable to realise, how I didn't perceive Amma's concealed presence. It hurted me to sleep alone, I grew a fear of rattling tree that touched our roof wall.

Despite father, mother and two younger sisters at home, we talked as little as possible. Most of our answers were in whispers and murmurs.

After innumerable deliberations my father and mother made a decision. They had planned most of the things.

"We are moving to the city next week." My father announced when we all were having dinner, except mother who was cooking.

Both my sisters grinned. Even, I have always thought of moving to city. It was a promise that my father made to us. But Amma always condemned it.

Following few days were chaotic. Most of the time I towed boxes and bags from place to place, my mother made sure to compress everything in least space. Old furniture was sold. I discovered relics from my childhood, that I never knew we had.

"When are you leaving?" Everyone in the village use to ask when they passed by our house. They often provided us with little information they had about cities. They said "Every house is bigger than the other, some even go to the clouds. There are cars and bikes all around. Big shopping stores…..". It looked fascinating to move to city. I was curious. 'In cities, dreams soar'. It seemed, we were starting a new life.

Cities, they were like infinite sky. Never ending hubbub, allies filled with chaos, crowd running haphazardly, humungous stores, myriad peoples and attitude. I was awestruck by wonders around. There was always something new to experience.

With time, I grew, learned and developed in city. Our standard of living prospered. I got a white collar job and we shifted to a two bed room apartment. Sometimes my father praised himself for his decision of moving to city. My parents had worked hard, they gifted me a worthy life. Only my sisters' marriage has curtailed their ultimate bliss.

CHAPTER 5

"Hello" came a seemingly familiar voice from other side.

"Hello, who are you?" I replied, trying to interpret the voice.

"So you forgot…" man at the other side giggled.

"Rohan… that is you, right?" I asked, unknowingly a smile appeared on my face.

"Oh no…. How could you forget me. We had our first bidhi together" the man at the other end guffawed.

Instinctively I knew it was him. My smile broadened.

"Sagar, how are you brother?" I asked, tears in my eyes.

We talked for nearly two hours. I couldn't stop smiling, every time we spoke of past village memories.

I told him, how I had adjusted in city, earned a decent job and living a blissful life. But his condition wasn't good enough. He told me after I left village, there was a huge catastrophe.

A sugar mill was set up besides our lake. Many wealthy men and job-seeking youth welcomed it, initially. But with time, the sugar mill took over our lake. They used it as dumping ground for factory by products. Sagar told me, "it was like gutter. Horrible! One could plastic bags, odorous waste…..".

Sagar's father with other men decided to protest. They broke into the factory and drove away workers. Later, police came and arrested Sagar's father. 'Revenge is a dish, best served cold'. The policeman who had once arrested him, avenged. He captivated Sagar's father and won't release him. He use to beat him daily, torment his weak state and even approached Sagar's family.

But this time no villager came to help. Sagar pleaded to the policeman, only to be treated like a dog. His father died in jail and his mother soon collapsed.

Sagar saw the fall of our village. Most villagers shifted to city, leaving farming behind. The factory had taken over the village and played with it like a dough ball. Factory men harassed villagers. They had monopoly over growing of sugarcane. They made money out of sugar and killed our village. The lake was over-used and apparently, it died.

Whenever a man leaves something, he promises he would return back. But, he never does.

When we came to the city, we thought we would come back some day. We would see our home again, meet everyone again. But it never happened. City just like a bog, swallowed us in its dark tales.

Sagar's word made me hollow from inside. I blamed myself for not going back to village. I wished I could see the lake for once. Tranquil and still, like a place in heaven. It would only be in my lucid memories.

Sagar is still in the village. He is in financial debt and don't have a place to go. I wanted to meet him, run in alleys again like a care free child, taste tangy raw mangoes, feel the fragrance of openness and play in mud. I wanted it all.

Next Sunday, I travelled to my village. Elation ran in my blood. I pictured the little memories I had of village. How my happiness would have no bonds when I would run through vast fields. Sagar won't stop smiling, seeing me. The journey seemed long, I was agitated with excitement.

When I reached my village, I first saw the lake. I stopped the car. It wasn't like what I had thought. It was pitch dark, like a gutter, creepy insects crawled through decay. A lot had been engulfed by plastic bags. The lake was choking with death. I couldn't think, I wanted my lake back.

I gazed at the reminisce of lake, hands in my pocket. I looked down, near my feet there was a pebble. A perfect pebble, flattened from both size, of apt size and exceptionally smooth.

'It could have made twenty leaps' I thought and sighed.