Love found & lost!
It was the year 1950. Chipadohar, an obscure village in Palamu district of Bihar (now Jharkhand), surrounded by thick deciduous forest, famous mainly for teak, sal & kendu (the leaves of which are used in the manufacture of bidi’s).
Tun (Kalindi), an eight year old, arrived at Chipadohar in spring, along with her other siblings & parents. Her dad, Mr Prasad, was a forest officer. Tun was closest to her older sister Kun (Geeta) who was her best friend & confidante.
Both the sisters were completely unlike in nature & appearance. Tun was thinner, with a small frame, mischievous & a rebel. Though only 11 months separated the two, Kun was much taller, mature & calm, speaking with gravity only when required.
The love shared between them set them apart from other children. Parents all around the hamlet would quote them as exemplary examples of harmonious compatibility. Kun would cover-up all of Tun’s misdeeds, be it breaking the earthen slender urn like pot that was used to chill drinking water in the summer or loiter in the summer heat in the afternoons with the village boys to play gullie danda & kancha. She used to slip on her brother’s shorts under her clownishly long frilly ankle length frock so that she could fill her pants pockets with marbles, berries, raw mangoes & sometimes amla.
Chipadohar was imbedded in the remotest of the forested region with a very tiny single-platform railway station, which was situated below the ground level on both the sides.
The girls would steal away when their mother was catching forty winks in the lazy humid mid-afternoon, to buy ice-candies from the vendors operating in the passenger trains that would stop at Chipadohar for a few minutes. Both would relish the moment when the ice-candy melted in their mouths & a feeling of total bliss would fill them. The problem was that since the trains didn’t ply daily on this route, the craving was so strong it would often be hard to satisfy.
There were other important agendas to attend to as well. Tuesdays were a busy affair in their idyllic lives: the Tuesday haat that would attract sellers of all varieties. Cattle, vegetables & fruits, jaggery candies, wild fowls, eggs & spices were among the goods sold in these haats. One of the orderly, Somra, would accompany the girls to these mini melas where they would spend money on coloured glass bangles, ribbons & whatever tit-bits they fancied.
On other days the sisters would wander around the entire day picking fruits from the forest near by. Guava, mango, jamun, figs, berries & Chiraunji (a thick shrub with small fruits having hard nuts that have the most delectable seeds encased inside them) were in abundance & the children would decide which part of the forest was to be raided on that particular day.
Then there were times when Kun cajoled Tun into exploring the neighborhood cremation ground. Both would watch the bodies being sent to dust with curiosity filled eyes.
There was no school in the vicinity & 6 kids (Tun was the second in the head count of 6 siblings, 2 sisters & 4 brothers who were born after the sisters) to be taught. So a schoolmaster was employed full time who would stay with the family & teach the kids during the day.
…
17th January 1954. Kun would turn 12 the next day & a big feast for the entire hamlet was proposed. The cooks had been busy, cooking sweetmeats & other snacks.
The biting cold made Kun seek warmth from the kitchen fire that was still burning long after everyone had retired. A bloodcurdling scream suddenly woke the entire household. Tun, who was snuggled in her bed, deep in slumber, woke up with a start. As she rushed to the inner courtyard, she saw her beloved Kun, ablaze, running around screaming in agony, crying for help.
The enormity of the situation didn’t strike the sleepy Tun, until the fire was doused & a severely burnt Kun, was sobbing uncontrollably between throes of agonizing pain. Her clothes & skin had peeled off & were falling from her body. The local quack was summoned & the helpless look on his face worried the family even more.
He administered a shot of morphine to reduce the excruciating pain that she felt. This reduced her repeated moans. Another shot was administered after two hours & she fell into deep slumber.
Tun stayed vigilant all night, delicately applying the burnol that the doctor had given her & was happy that her dear sister was finally at ease.
It was around 8am the next morning, when everyone tried to awake Kun to wish her well. However, when she failed to respond to repeated attempts to rouse her, an alarmed household sent for the nearest doctor. The doctor pronounced her dead on arrival.
Tun was too numb to grasp what had just happened. It was as if a part of her died with Kun. She felt suffocated & being a child herself, didn’t know how to react to the deep pain she felt within. She was at a complete loss. The vacuum was unbearable. She felt alone & stifled in her large bed that she had shared with Kun. The late night banter was replaced with stark unceasingly long, silent dreary nights. Everything looked bleak without Kun. This was probably a bad dream…she thought.
As hours stretched to days…slowly the reality sunk in. Kun di, as she fondly called her elder sister was gone forever. Then she remembered, how during one of their cremation ground escapades, Kun di had mentioned rather seriously, that when she died, she would dwell on their favourite guava tree in the kitchen garden.
Tun started spending hours below the guava tree, calling out softly to her beloved Kun di, who she believed would respond one day. Tun’s playfulness was gone… Instead, there was this little lost girl who ached to see her playmate one more time.
The whole family wilted under the unremitting sorrow at Kun’s loss. They wished to move to another place, to get over the tragedy. Every little thing at Chipadohar reminded them of Kun.
Tun on the other hand, fought tooth n nail at the very mention of shifting place. Her Kun di lived in that house…in every little thing they did together.
One day, as usual Tun was under the Guava tree trying to look for signs of her sister’s presence. Frustration was setting in & she started brooding that her sister didn’t love her that much after all. Couldn’t she (Kun) see how she was hurting? As she spoke aloud in anger, a little guava flower dropped on her head from the tree branch.
Hey! In her misery, she had not noticed that this year the guava tree had flowered before time. There were tiny guava’s dangling happily from the flower-laden branches. Looking at the blooming tree, Tun felt a sense of happiness. Was this Kun di’s way of telling her that she was fine & at peace? She pondered.
Tun started tending the guava tree everyday, ferociously guarding it from the fruit eating parrots & mynah’s that would raid it on fruition. Looking at Tun’s unhealthy possessiveness for the guava tree, her mother one day joined her under the tree. They talked about Kun’s presence on it. Tun’s mum persuasively reasoned with Tun that her older sister had been a giving person. She loved to share her things with everyone around her. If Kun lived on the guava tree…she would definitely like to share the fruits of the tree with the birds & animals (monkeys) around. Pratt fell a fruit in response to the discussion going on. This action to Tun, was Kun’s way of saying that their mum was right.
Tun’s conviction of Kun di up there amongst the branches grew stronger. Whenever she felt lonely, she would walk up to her beloved tree & pour her heart to the outstretched branches that reminded her of her sisters open arms welcoming her into its folds.
Kun’s demise, took its toll by turning Tun into a grave & serious child. Her naughty pranks were replaced with babysitting her younger brothers & helping her mum around. Just like what Kun di did. Everyone around talked of how Kun had bestowed her wisdom on Tun when she left for her heavenly abode.
( “Tun” the main character in the story is the author’s mother).
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006
Tun (Kalindi), an eight year old, arrived at Chipadohar in spring, along with her other siblings & parents. Her dad, Mr Prasad, was a forest officer. Tun was closest to her older sister Kun (Geeta) who was her best friend & confidante.
Both the sisters were completely unlike in nature & appearance. Tun was thinner, with a small frame, mischievous & a rebel. Though only 11 months separated the two, Kun was much taller, mature & calm, speaking with gravity only when required.
The love shared between them set them apart from other children. Parents all around the hamlet would quote them as exemplary examples of harmonious compatibility. Kun would cover-up all of Tun’s misdeeds, be it breaking the earthen slender urn like pot that was used to chill drinking water in the summer or loiter in the summer heat in the afternoons with the village boys to play gullie danda & kancha. She used to slip on her brother’s shorts under her clownishly long frilly ankle length frock so that she could fill her pants pockets with marbles, berries, raw mangoes & sometimes amla.
Chipadohar was imbedded in the remotest of the forested region with a very tiny single-platform railway station, which was situated below the ground level on both the sides.
The girls would steal away when their mother was catching forty winks in the lazy humid mid-afternoon, to buy ice-candies from the vendors operating in the passenger trains that would stop at Chipadohar for a few minutes. Both would relish the moment when the ice-candy melted in their mouths & a feeling of total bliss would fill them. The problem was that since the trains didn’t ply daily on this route, the craving was so strong it would often be hard to satisfy.
There were other important agendas to attend to as well. Tuesdays were a busy affair in their idyllic lives: the Tuesday haat that would attract sellers of all varieties. Cattle, vegetables & fruits, jaggery candies, wild fowls, eggs & spices were among the goods sold in these haats. One of the orderly, Somra, would accompany the girls to these mini melas where they would spend money on coloured glass bangles, ribbons & whatever tit-bits they fancied.
On other days the sisters would wander around the entire day picking fruits from the forest near by. Guava, mango, jamun, figs, berries & Chiraunji (a thick shrub with small fruits having hard nuts that have the most delectable seeds encased inside them) were in abundance & the children would decide which part of the forest was to be raided on that particular day.
Then there were times when Kun cajoled Tun into exploring the neighborhood cremation ground. Both would watch the bodies being sent to dust with curiosity filled eyes.
There was no school in the vicinity & 6 kids (Tun was the second in the head count of 6 siblings, 2 sisters & 4 brothers who were born after the sisters) to be taught. So a schoolmaster was employed full time who would stay with the family & teach the kids during the day.
…
17th January 1954. Kun would turn 12 the next day & a big feast for the entire hamlet was proposed. The cooks had been busy, cooking sweetmeats & other snacks.
The biting cold made Kun seek warmth from the kitchen fire that was still burning long after everyone had retired. A bloodcurdling scream suddenly woke the entire household. Tun, who was snuggled in her bed, deep in slumber, woke up with a start. As she rushed to the inner courtyard, she saw her beloved Kun, ablaze, running around screaming in agony, crying for help.
The enormity of the situation didn’t strike the sleepy Tun, until the fire was doused & a severely burnt Kun, was sobbing uncontrollably between throes of agonizing pain. Her clothes & skin had peeled off & were falling from her body. The local quack was summoned & the helpless look on his face worried the family even more.
He administered a shot of morphine to reduce the excruciating pain that she felt. This reduced her repeated moans. Another shot was administered after two hours & she fell into deep slumber.
Tun stayed vigilant all night, delicately applying the burnol that the doctor had given her & was happy that her dear sister was finally at ease.
It was around 8am the next morning, when everyone tried to awake Kun to wish her well. However, when she failed to respond to repeated attempts to rouse her, an alarmed household sent for the nearest doctor. The doctor pronounced her dead on arrival.
Tun was too numb to grasp what had just happened. It was as if a part of her died with Kun. She felt suffocated & being a child herself, didn’t know how to react to the deep pain she felt within. She was at a complete loss. The vacuum was unbearable. She felt alone & stifled in her large bed that she had shared with Kun. The late night banter was replaced with stark unceasingly long, silent dreary nights. Everything looked bleak without Kun. This was probably a bad dream…she thought.
As hours stretched to days…slowly the reality sunk in. Kun di, as she fondly called her elder sister was gone forever. Then she remembered, how during one of their cremation ground escapades, Kun di had mentioned rather seriously, that when she died, she would dwell on their favourite guava tree in the kitchen garden.
Tun started spending hours below the guava tree, calling out softly to her beloved Kun di, who she believed would respond one day. Tun’s playfulness was gone… Instead, there was this little lost girl who ached to see her playmate one more time.
The whole family wilted under the unremitting sorrow at Kun’s loss. They wished to move to another place, to get over the tragedy. Every little thing at Chipadohar reminded them of Kun.
Tun on the other hand, fought tooth n nail at the very mention of shifting place. Her Kun di lived in that house…in every little thing they did together.
One day, as usual Tun was under the Guava tree trying to look for signs of her sister’s presence. Frustration was setting in & she started brooding that her sister didn’t love her that much after all. Couldn’t she (Kun) see how she was hurting? As she spoke aloud in anger, a little guava flower dropped on her head from the tree branch.
Hey! In her misery, she had not noticed that this year the guava tree had flowered before time. There were tiny guava’s dangling happily from the flower-laden branches. Looking at the blooming tree, Tun felt a sense of happiness. Was this Kun di’s way of telling her that she was fine & at peace? She pondered.
Tun started tending the guava tree everyday, ferociously guarding it from the fruit eating parrots & mynah’s that would raid it on fruition. Looking at Tun’s unhealthy possessiveness for the guava tree, her mother one day joined her under the tree. They talked about Kun’s presence on it. Tun’s mum persuasively reasoned with Tun that her older sister had been a giving person. She loved to share her things with everyone around her. If Kun lived on the guava tree…she would definitely like to share the fruits of the tree with the birds & animals (monkeys) around. Pratt fell a fruit in response to the discussion going on. This action to Tun, was Kun’s way of saying that their mum was right.
Tun’s conviction of Kun di up there amongst the branches grew stronger. Whenever she felt lonely, she would walk up to her beloved tree & pour her heart to the outstretched branches that reminded her of her sisters open arms welcoming her into its folds.
Kun’s demise, took its toll by turning Tun into a grave & serious child. Her naughty pranks were replaced with babysitting her younger brothers & helping her mum around. Just like what Kun di did. Everyone around talked of how Kun had bestowed her wisdom on Tun when she left for her heavenly abode.
( “Tun” the main character in the story is the author’s mother).
Copyright © BuntysBanter 2006
posted by Bunty's Banter at 2:30 AM
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