Tuku Comes Back Home

Tuku Comes Back Home

 The rain began as a whisper and grew into a steady conversation with the night. At around ten o’clock, the world outside Siddharth’s house lay drenched in a glistening darkness. Water dripped rhythmically from the mango tree in the courtyard, and a flickering streetlight cast long, trembling shadows on the wet ground. Inside, Shanta Devi stood by the bedroom window, her frail fingers resting on the iron grille. She had always loved watching the rain. To her, it felt like the earth was speaking in a language older than words.


Suddenly, something stirred near the concrete electric post outside their gate. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “What is that…?” A small creature struggled weakly at the base of the post, slipping and dragging itself through the mud. “Vivek!” she called out. From the next room came her husband's steady voice, “What happened?” “Come quickly. There’s something outside… a poor thing.”


Mr. Vivek Choudhary entered, tall and composed even at seventy-two. Years in the army had shaped him into a man of quiet strength and sharp observation. He looked out. “At first glance, I’d say a rodent…” he murmured. Then he paused. “No… a mongoose.And injured.” 

Shanta Devi had already picked up an umbrella. “I’m going out.”

“In this rain?” he asked.


“It will die if we don’t help it."

 Vivek exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Wait. I’m coming with you.”


The rain greeted them with urgency. They approached the trembling creature. Up close, its condition was worse than they had imagined. Its fur was matted, its body bruised, and one leg dragged helplessly. “Oh, poor soul…” Shanta Devi whispered. The mongoose tried to hiss but lacked the strength.

“Easy,” Vivek said, crouching down. “We won’t harm you.” Using his handkerchief, he gently lifted it. It flinched—but did not resist.

 “Let’s take him inside,” Shanta Devi said. Siddharth woke up the next morning to hushed voices. Curious, he hurried into the living room. “What’s going on?” Then he saw it—a small basket lined with soft cloth, and inside it, a creature with bright, wary eyes. “What is that?” he asked, astonished.



 “A mongoose,” Vivek replied. “Can I touch him?” “No,” both grandparents said firmly.


 Siddharth grinned. “I’ll name him Tuku.” The days that followed were filled with quiet care. Siddharth sat beside Tuku for hours. “Eat this,” he would say gently, holding out small bits of food. At first, Tuku ignored him. Then one day, he nibbled. “He ate!” Siddharth whispered excitedly.


“Trust takes time,” Vivek said. “You are earning it.” Within a week, Tuku began moving around. Within two, he followed Siddharth. And soon, they were inseparable. “Where is Siddharth?” Shanta Devi would ask. “With Tuku,” Vivek would reply calmly.

 They would find the boy in the courtyard. “Are you brave?” Siddharth asked one afternoon. Tuku darted playfully around him. “That means yes!” Siddharth laughed. At meals, Siddharth insisted, “Tuku should sit with us.”


“This is not a zoo,” Vivek said.


 “He is family,” Siddharth replied.


The old man paused… then allowed it. They went everywhere together. To the market. To the park. Even on evening walks. People stared. “A mongoose?” someone asked. “Yes,” Siddharth said proudly. “His name is Tuku.”


 But one day, strangers arrived. Environmental activists. “You cannot keep a wild animal,” a woman said firmly. “He belongs in the forest.” Siddharth’s face fell. “He is not just an animal,” he said quietly. “He is my friend.” Vivek placed a hand on his shoulder.

“They are right.”


“No!” Siddharth cried.

 “We saved him!”

 “And now we must let him live freely,” Vivek said. The journey to the forest was heavy with silence. At the forest edge, Siddharth held Tuku tightly. “Don’t go…” he whispered. He slowly released him. Tuku hesitated and then ---- seeing unknown he disappeared into the trees.


 Siddharth stood frozen.


Then he wept.


The house felt empty afterwards. He stopped eating properly. Even his favourite sweets lay untouched. “Tuku would have liked this,” he said once. At night, he cried softly.




 “He will come back,” Shanta Devi comforted.


 “No… he won’t,” Siddharth said.


 A month passed.

One night— Siddharth woke suddenly. “Snake!” he gasped. Something warm lay beside him. He turned.


Two bright eyes were looking at him with recognition.

 “Tuku…?”


The mongoose nestled closer. Siddharth’s breath caught. “You came back…!” He picked him up, laughing and crying. “I knew it!” The house awoke to joy. “How did he return?” Shanta Devi wondered. Vivek smiled faintly.

 “Love remembers its way.” They kept it a secret.


 “Don’t tell anyone,” Vivek warned. “Someone had already reported us.”


 Siddharth nodded. “He’s ours.”


Years passed. Siddharth grew older, wiser. Tuku remained—free, yet faithful. Sometimes he wandered out, but always returned.


 “He stays because he wants to,” Vivek said. One evening, a letter arrived.


“Siddharth!” Vivek called. Siddharth opened it. His eyes widened. “I’ve been selected… for Cambridge. Electrical engineering.”

Shanta Devi beamed.


“This is wonderful!”


But Siddharth remained silent. That night, he sat by the window. Tuku beside him. “If I go… I’ll have to leave you,” he whispered. Tuku pressed closer.


“You came back to me. How can I leave you now,my treasure?”


The next morning, Vivek spoke quietly. “This is a rare opportunity.”


 “I know,” Siddharth said. “But I cannot go.” “Because of Tuku?” “Yes.” Vivek looked at him deeply. “Every choice has a cost.” “I am willing to pay it,” Siddharth replied. He wrote his reply.


 He declined the offer. “Are you certain?” Shanta Devi asked. “Yes,” Siddharth said gently. “Some bonds are not meant to be broken.” Vivek nodded slowly. “Then stand by your choice.”


Life did not shrink for Siddharth—it deepened. He studied from home, built devices, repaired machines. Tuku was always near. One evening, Siddharth smiled. “I found everything… on a rainy night.” Vivek looked at him. “Not everyone recognizes such moments.” And so life moved quietly forward. The world knew nothing of Tuku. But within that home lived a quiet truth— That love, when given freely, returns. And stays.