available train. As the holiday season was months away it was easy to get the tickets. The journey to my village was in three parts. First came a full-day train trip, then, half a day by bus and the last couple of kilometers was by horse cart. Half way through the horse-cart journey, we had to cross, a dry riverbed. During the rains, travel to and from the village meant wadding through the muddy river waters. Luckily, the monsoon were months had not started.
Not much seemed to have changed in the village. I could see that two new huts had come up. There was a brand-new coat of paint on the walls of the village temple. The ‘school’, if you could call it that, was a large room, which had a thatched coconut leaf roof and mud walls. One section of the school wall had collapsed. Children of all the classes sat in that one room and studied together. I had heard that there were two teachers now for the thirty students. That was definitely an improvement over the conditions, which existed when we were there. However, as I walked past the building, I could see only one person, who looked like the teacher. He was sitting with his feet on a table and sleeping. The students were running around playing. Two boys were fighting outside the school compound. Seeing them rolling in the mud, brought back old memories. As I walked by them, they stopped fighting for a minute and stared at me.
“Are you the new policeman?” one of them asked. They were still trying to strangle each other, but hostilities were on hold as they made my acquaintance.
“No, I have come here for the wedding,” I said.
I smiled at them and continued walking. They smiled back and then returned to their fighting.
There was a narrow mud path, which ran through the center of the village. On both side of the path grew tall trees. Besides the trees were some small shops. The houses of the villagers started where the mud path ended. Some men were sitting in one of the shop's smoking beedis. Beedi were the local version of the cigarette, was cheap and gave off a strong pungent smoke. They looked up as I went by.
“Namaste, I am from the city,” I said in the way of introduction. Most of them ignored me, and continued puffing out columns of smoke.
“Which city?” one of them asked finally.
“Mumbai,” I replied.
“How much does a beedi cost in Mumbai?” another asked.
“I don’t smoke. So I don’t know,” I said.
“Then why have you come here?” he asked.
“I have come here for the wedding.”
“Gopalan’s son’s wedding?”
“Yes, he was my friend. I am also from this village. I grew up in the orphanage.”
“The orphanage closed down some years back.”
This was news to me.
“What, I didn’t know that,” I said, “I send money to the orphanage.”
They all smiled. By now, they had lost all interest in me and returned to their smoking.
I continued walking towards Krishnan’s house. It was one of the few brick, cement houses, and was easy to find. His father was a teacher in a neighboring village, and they were reasonably rich.
“So you finally decided to show up?” Krishnan came out running to meet me. The years were not kind to him. His hair was thinning, and he had a slight paunch.
“What is the matter with you, you seemed to have put on some weight?” I said almost without thinking.
“Why do you think was I in such a hurry to get married?” Krishnan replied and we both laughed.
He took me in. His relatives were everywhere in his house. I put my bags down and started helping them with the preparations. That night, I slept in his house. Somehow squeezing myself in along with the rest of the guests. Early next morning we left for the girl’s village. It was about five kilometers away, and Krishnan’s family had arranged for a minivan. By the time, we returned we had an extra member in the group, Krishnan’s bride. We reached his home by three in the evening. The reception at Krishnan’s house was at five, and we did not have much time to relax.
The reception went on until ten in the night. The entire village turned up. Some people from neighboring villages were also there. After dinner, people started leaving. Those from the other villages had left early. I was a part of a group seeing them off. It was one endless cycle of smiling, thanking and good-byes. Finally, we managed to see of most of the guest. Only a mother and her daughter from our village remained. They lived on the other side of the village and were a bit scared of going back alone. I volunteered to walk with them to their house.
“I lived here for ten years and do know some of the shortcuts,” I said flashing my most reassuring smile.
“Thank you. It is entirely my fault. I forgot all about the time. We are sorry for troubling you,” the mother said.
“No, no. Do not worry about that at all. I will come along with you,” I said, “Krishnan is like a brother to me. I would be glad to help out.”
We started walking along the now deserted path at the center of the village. It was a moonlight night, and the trees were casting shadows all around. A cool breeze blew as we made our way slowly in the dark.
“Don’t step on the darker spots, “I said, “They could be stones.”
“Or it could be a snake,” the daughter piped in. It was the first time she had spoken since our journey had started, and I liked her voice.
“No. There are no snakes in the village,” I said.
“How can you be so sure?” the mother asked.
“I lived here years ago.”
“Oh, we are new here; my husband is the postman at the local post office here. This is my daughter, Sumathi.”
“Are you studying?” I asked the daughter.
“Why do girls need to study?” the mother replied.
“I didn’t know we had a post office in our village,” I said, turning the conversation away from the daughter.
“It is not here. It is in the neighboring village. Her father could not come home today, that is why we had to come on our own.”
“Oh, ok,” I said. The girl was pretty. I was stealing glances at her and felt that she was enjoying the attention. In all this, I stepped on a stone, lost my balance and almost fell down.
“Now you be careful,” the mother said and the girl giggled.
“I am ok. It is too dark,” I said.
“You work in the city?” the mother asked.
“Yes, I am the junior executive of a firm in Mumbai.”
“What much is your salary?” the mother asked. People in villages could be quite blunt.
“I get about fifteen thousand rupees a month. The company takes care of my food and accommodation, so I don’t have to worry about all that in a city-like Mumbai.” I was proud of my achievements.
“That is very good,” the mother sounded impressed. “You said you are from this village? What is your father’s name?”
“Oh,aah… I was…there was an orphanage here. I am an orphan. I don’t really know who my parents were,” I said.
“Oh, I am sorry,” the mother said. She looked at me, sighed and kept walking.
The conversation dried out after that. The girl stopped looking at me. I was expecting this. It is not easy being an orphan, in a society built on family and tradition. We walked on in silence and soon reached their house.
“It is getting late, so I better return,” I said. They thanked me and went in as I made my way back.
Dark clouds played hide and seek with the moon, and I was finding it a bit difficult finding my way back. After walking a little distance, I thought I heard a sound. It sounded like a child, laughing. I stopped and looked around. In the moonlight, I could see two children standing beneath a tree. It must have been about eleven in the night.
“What are you two doing there?” I asked.
“We are playing,” the taller of the two; a girl answered.
“Playing, hmm at twelve in the night, in this place,” I said, “Don’t you think your parents would be worried?”
“No, they will not mind. We always play late at night,” the g
irl said.
“I find that difficult to believe. Anyway let me take you both to your house,” I said.
“You want to take us home?” the girl asked.
“Yes show me where you live.”
“Ok, follow me. Be careful, no one comes down this way, so there might be stones and thorny bushes along the way,” she said.
“That is ok, you just show me the way, and I will follow you,” I said, “Is this your brother?”
“Yes, he will walk in front, and I will walk behind you.”
“Why?” I asked.
“He just likes to walk in front,” she said.
We started walking in a different direction now. This was away from the village; there were more trees all around as we walked through them. I did not remember ever having come through this part of the village.
“What is your name?” the girl asked.
“Hari,” I replied.
“Do you live in this village?”
“I used to live here, but that was a long time ago. I came here for my friend’s wedding.”
“Are you married?”
“My God! You ask too many questions,” I said, “No, and I am not planning on getting married any time soon. Why, is that a problem?”
“No. Where do you live?”
“I live in Mumbai.”
“How far is it from here?”
“Doesn’t your brother have anything to ask?”
“He doesn’t talk to strangers,” she said.
“Oh, that is a relief.”
The clouds completely hid the moon. Progress was slow, and I knew I would be late getting back to Krishnan’s house.
“How far is your house now?”
“We are almost there,” she said.
I could feel as if we were now climbing up a stone