A Grave Sport

HARISH WAS TIRED WHEN HE RETURNED from the school and tossed his bag on the sofa and slumped on it. He felt like sleeping but he didn’t because he had exams tomorrow. His mother was busy in preparing mushroom soup for him. You could smell this from standing anywhere in the typical single bedroom house. They weren’t rich, but at the same time they weren’t poor either. The government addressed them as middle class family, but nothing would come their way easily. Her husband was working in a local foundry where he had to shed at least two litres of sweat to earn copious six hundred rupee a day. But they were happy, and you could see happiness in Ketana’s face while kindling the steamy soup for her son. She was beautiful in sunshine orange sari and matched purple choli and a small round vermilion bindi on her forehead and red sacred ash drew in the centre of her scalp because it was the token that she was married. No doubt she was living a happy life as every woman had ever dreamed of. It was simple life but God had given her everything she wanted. She had no regrets.

“Harish, put your school bag in shelf. How many times should I tell you to keep the things in the right place, hah?” Ketana said in a loud voice. But she didn’t want to hurt him, she knew how tired this small champ. After all, he had come from school finishing his exams. Not to tell how these little kids are asked to prepare for their half yearly exams as if they are going to write crucial twelfth standard board exams. Even though kids wanted to take the exams normally, the extra pressure came from school teachers and parents are indescribable. That too every kid has the biggest responsibility that they should score first in the class. Some parents even demand that their kids should study better than neighbourhood kids and worst they would like to thumping their chest in front of their relatives while letting them know that their son was better scholar than anyone in their area (sometimes city and state too). It had become a prestigious issue these days. But Ketana and her husband didn’t behave rudely with Harish, despite he had got low marks in a few subjects in the last quarterly exams.

“No mom, I am feeling very tired. Let me sleep for a while, ”Harish said in a droopy tone. His head was already lying on the hand rest of the sofa, which wasn’t very soft like shown in TV ads, it was little hard but it was okay.

“Do what I had said first, you hear me?” she said. She was slightly pissed off. You could see her eyes were having the shades of red glow. But her cheeks were as soft and white as ever before. Maybe this was the reason why her husband Ramesh had loved her so much. Even when she was burning with anger, she looked as beautiful as fresh garden.

Harish already doused. His small eyes were closed and he was snorting intermittently. This winter was very strong and it would have affected him.

“Harish??” she called few times and shrugged her shoulders after peered at her son from the kitchen. She poured the steamy mushroom soup in a ceramic bowl and she held it carefully not to scald her dainty fingers. But still the steamy fog had kissed her fingers and gave a pinch of pain. But she was fine. She added extra pepper because Harish always loved to take spiciness. Who knows better than a mother what her child needs, eh?

She walked down slowly to the living room and sat on the edge of the sofa and placed the bowl on the teapoy. The Times of India newspaper was laid on it already, you could see the Chennai times pages where littered and there was a cover story that Dinesh Karthick had steered Indian cricket team victory in the last over of the Asia Cup final against Bangladesh. Ketana didn’t shake her son’s head, instead she ran her fingers on his splayed hair and gazed his face for a few seconds because she wanted to know how tired he was. She knew there were black marks underneath his eyes as he had read for long hours until midnight to prepare for the science exam today. He had even asked her doubts about what satellite is and why it plays a huge role in our day to day life. She was novice in that subject but she had explained him whatever abysmal knowledge she had (orbits and PSLV?).

She gripped his right hand and tried to pull him close to her slowly. But he had resisted her and tried to slump on the sofa again.

“Mom, please allow me to sleep for five minutes,” he said in a sleepy voice.

“No way, if you sleep now then you don’t sleep in the night at all. C’mon wake up, have soup and wash your face,” she said.

“Feed me mom,” he said, still closed his eyes firmly. It looked like he was acting now as if to irritate his mother.

“Huh? Are you a small baby or what to have a feeding bottle? You are getting older my boy,” she said and slapped slightly on his right cheek as her lips pressed tighter. She was smiling mildly like the gentle breeze in the cold places.

“Haaaaaaa, it’s aching mom,” he said as opened his eyes fully and looked at his mother. His left palm was spread over his pinched cheek.

“Then get up, get up now,” she said, snapping her fingers in front of him. “Go to bathroom and wash your face cleanly.”

He reluctantly woke up as his lazy legs found it difficult to walk down a few meters to the bathroom which was adjacent to the bedroom.

“Careful, don’t slip inside. I have to apply bleaching powder to clean the surface of the floor, it is slippery. Harish do you got what I am saying?” his mother screamed from the sofa. She was afraid because today morning her husband had complained her that he was about to fall on the floor as luckily grabbed the sink and saved his ass. She had laughed for what he had said, but she was not happy with herself for postponing this important task for a while. She was generally good at doing home chores without any lapse, but somehow she had forgotten to clean the bathroom. She scolded herself now. I have to clean the mess out of there first in the early morning, she thought.

“Okayyyyyyy,” he boomed, as opened the pvc bathroom door faster and got inside. He didn’t want to wash his face with cold water but he did. At each splashing of water, his body shivered like an electric current passed through his body. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. He hurriedly washed his face and came out with a white cotton towel hanging on his left shoulder.

“You came quickly. Have you washed well?” she said, gazed him.

“Mom that’s enough. I am done,” he said strictly like he was her father. He snatched the hot bowl from her and slurped the soup with feisty eyes. No doubt his mother was such a great cook. Ketana was happy on seeing him. She felt like she had drunk that soup herself.

“Hey, drink slowly. Your tongue might burn,” she said.

He hadn’t heard her words and rushed drinking. In a few seconds he emptied the bowl and extended it to her.

“So what are you gonna do next,” she said, as collected it from him.

“I want to have a nice sleep mom,” he said, his grin stretching from left ear to right ear.

“Youuuu,” she acted like hitting him, but embraced him firmly and kissed him on his cheek, “you are a silly boy, em. Now tell me how did you write exam?”

“I think I did well. No, I think I didn’t do it well,” he gave an ambiguous answer.

His mother was surprised and her head was erected, “What that mean? You started confusing me, eh?”

“The science subject is tough mom. I couldn’t write everything. I left the JJ Thompson’s theory and the force of attraction between the two objects,” he said gravely.

“That’s why I told you to study well from the beginning. But you had gone to play with the street boys. At least now focus on writing your next exam well. Got it?” she said. She wasn’t happy to hear this. She was thinking about making him a great scientist, but the way he had shown interest in subjects seems low. She knew her dream about her son was too big to achieve. But she was striving hard to make him better and better all the time. Even she started reading again because she wanted to educate him well. These days after everyone had fallen asleep she would garb her son’s school bag and start reading his books like she was preparing for exams.

“Mom you stop scolding me all the time. I wanted to score first in the school, but something is itching in my brain when I open the text books,” he said.

“You can’t shine until you focus on what you are doing,” she said strictly. She wondered if he can understand what she was talking about. She believed he can. She had so many thoughts crammed inside her mind to speak with her son, and she was waiting for the right time to pour on him. Maybe he had to grow up.

“Yeah, I heard the same thing from my Pranitha miss all the time, she is like you only mom. Always giving us lectures on how to study well and how to keep scoring top marks in the class room,” he said in a somewhat nefarious voice. His jaw squirmed a little.

“So what was wrong in it? Miss should ask students to study well. She had done a right thing,” Ketana said.

He slapped on his forehead and said, “I can’t tolerate you women. I feel like giving up my life.”

His mother stood up from her seat. She didn’t feel like sitting on the sofa and hear him speak as if he knew the whole philosophy about life. What made him to speak like that? she still wondered. She realised that she has to change her perception about these generation kids who are acting faster than she probably thought. She had to update her old operating system in her brain.

“Harish, you are talking toooooo much,” she said.

“When you girls had understood our boys’ feelings, eh?” he said stubbornly. He knew from his mother’s reaction that she was going to beat him for sure. Maybe for fun or maybe to correct his coquettish behavior. His eyes were scanning each and every moment of his mother like a sensor. He knew there was a slight jerk in her feet. He turned his head to go and hide inside, because his mother eying him warily for uttering such a brutish comment. Though Ketana had took it sportively, she wasn’t going to leave this small and freaky kid easily unless until she had given a whack. Harish started running already, and her long stretch of right hand wasn’t enough to grab this little fellow, who had quick legs. In a couple of seconds, she couldn’t locate where he had gone.

“Harish come back, if you didn’t I am gonna take a bamboo stick,” she said, as huffed and puffed only after light jogging. She was standing inside the bedroom now. She knelt down and saw if he was hiding underneath the bed, but he wasn’t there. She then slowly walked across the room and watched if he was hiding in a wardrobe. No, he wasn’t there. It was a small house, but still she wasn’t able to find him. Her only option was to check inside the bathroom. She was damn sure he was hidden inside there. She walked down slowly because there was no chance of hiding anywhere other than this place. She stopped and called his name once again loudly as her knuckled hand rammed on the door. First slowly and increased her pace furiously thump thump thump. No reply back from him. She swallowed a thick lump down her throat. She was panicking now. Her hands were shivering. Her breath returned back when her eyes fell on the door lock. Shit, I haven’t seen this locked from outside, she said. She knew her brain would fade and numb when it comes to dealing such a harsh moment. She tried to relax, but in vain. Her heartbeat was thudding ferociously inside her chest to know where her son was hiding then.

She clambered to the kitchen and looked at every direction. She was fumbled and fell on the floor as her feet slipped due to some seeping water drops from the kitchen sink. But she was all right again. She didn’t even know what she was doing right now or where to start searching. She even opened the fridge door and peeked inside thinking he would have curled inside. But he wasn’t there. Where he had gone? This thought kept running and running like an endless for loop in the software. Her heart was frozen. She didn’t know where her son was disappeared suddenly. Was anyone kidnapped him? Had he gone out to play with his friends? She had scrambled down the floor and looked at the main door, which was locked firmly at the top. No way, he can’t open the door. Then where did he go? A thumping fear tread down her soul as started weeping now. Tears were coming out copiously, it was hot and burning her cheeks. But that doesn’t matter. She wanted to see her son again. She can’t miss this little fellow even for a second. His smiles and naughty behavior he did a few minutes ago were still flashing in her mind. Her worry increased tremendously now. She was restless and fuming herself for not knowing where he was hidden.

“Harish……..come back. No more play. I am tired, come back,” that’s all she was able to holler now. Her lips were trembling like she walked down through a heavy snow laden street.

There was no reply. She felt like knocking her head on the wall. Her eyes were fallen on the sofa and she suddenly knelt down and looked underneath it. Oh, he wasn’t there. Her right hand was wiping on the floor like a wiper on the windshield. She peered in it. It was dark and looked like ghosts will hide here. But it was only her wild fantasy. Her tears fell on the floor, but she wasn’t going to care about anything until she had seen her son again and hugged him tightly. Wall clock bonged six times and she knew her husband was going to reach home within an hour. She stood up again as intimidating fear gripped her nerves, her breath was almost scalding her skin. A moment she felt like committing suicide as she couldn’t find her son. But still there was some hope lurking inside her heart. She wanted to go back and search thoroughly. Her feet moved towards bedroom again but slowly as if she was going to steal there something. You couldn’t hear anything apart from the slow whirring of the fan in the living room. She was now behind the bedroom, her soul ached to open the door but she did it with a heavy heart. The door creaked open as if shown in thriller movies. There was no sound.

She was expecting to hear the breathing of her son, but she couldn’t grasp it. Her whooping heartbeat told her that her son was here. But where? That’s all she wanted to know. Her eyes fell on the cloth-line just left to the bed. The clothes were hung on there; she had brought it from the rooftop in the evening after these were dried under the sun. There were more sarees and blankets and also you could see his school uniform, which was green shirt and brown trousers. Her heart was beating like a wild animal would prey upon her. She treaded down slowly as she swallowed a thick lump in her throat. She prayed that her son should be alive and fresh and smiling. She imagined he would plunge on her seeing she had found him. She couldn’t control her arms as she stretched her right hand and drew the blue sari from the cloth line. No, he wasn’t there. She had to draw another saree, but her arm stopped in the middle as if someone had grabbed her hand. Her chest was raising and falling down rapidly. You could see the beads of sweat were creeping on her forehead. Her eyelids were shaking too. She finally willed to draw out the saree. No, she couldn’t draw it. It was weighing heavy as if it was tied down with a big stone. Her limbs were trembling like hell now. Her breathing was furious like a running horse. Now something fell on the floor. It was a heavy thumping sound like someone had slapped brutishly. She knelt down to know what it was. She fumbled to remove the clutch of the sari on it. It was wrapped round and round. She ran her hands over it. Her anxiety increased and the tendon was standing on the back of her neck. She was feeling the soft flesh.

“Harishhhhhhhhhhhhhhh………………….” She pierced a mighty cry as pulled off the sari which strangled around his head?

Tears flooded out of her eyes. Yes, Harish was dead as her sari choked him. Could you believe it? Oh God, how can a small boy die in this way? How could she wasn’t able to stop this tragedy. Her fingers and her cheeks trembled as she removed the sari out of his body. His eyes were pale blue and it wasn’t even closed yet as if he was dead in shock. His cheeks were as bubbly as few minutes back when he had drunk the soup. But his neck was squeezed hard and became reddish black. She ran through the same pandemonium in her mind how her son would have fought to breath after strangled in this way. His voice would have muffled and she wasn’t able to hear it. She was slapping her chest as looked at his soft face. She was kept crying and crying.

***