Dinesh and The Road To The Village

The road lay bare, broken, bereft of any life that could have been possible on that 8 foot wide thoroughfare connecting village and the city. Bereft of tarmac and bereft of footprints. No one appeared and no one vanished but yet somehow, it felt as if there was a pair of eyes prying from the sky, messing with Dinesh’s uneasy solitude. A gentle cold breeze mocked this inevitable pause in his life flowing past his forehead giving it a cold sensation. The drops of sweat on his forehead evaporated. He turned towards the village thinking about this pause. With each passing minute he felt the breeze getting colder, but yet, his sweating did not stop. The evening transformed into dusk and the sky turned from blue to grey to faint red with a few clouds illuminated bright orange in the distance. Twilight approaching, he thought to himself and turned to look in the direction of the village. The road did not change. The wind grew stronger and colder. The wind makes a strange sound, he thought to himself, each time it rubs past his ears. He kept his fore-finger on the pinna of his right ear and felt a strange sensation as the cold skin of his fingers touched the cold skin of his ear. The sound of the wind changed to some extent and he came to a conclusion that the sound only comprised of vowels attached to the word ‘sh’.

The sugar-cane leaves hustled, and Dinesh shrugged. The dust from the road flew up in small weak cyclones and settled down. For the first time Dinesh felt how the ripe unharvested sugar-cane smells. It had been a part of his life for years but never had he paid attention to it. Sweet, but a strange bitter smell of the pesticides spoilt the sweetness. Bitterly sweet or sweetly bitter, he was not able to decide. He felt his heartbeat rising and the thump in his chest seemed audible now. Thump thump, shoosh, hustle, thump thump. Goosebumps appeared on his arm on imagining the prospects of being alone here the entire night. He thought, should I leave for the village, but his father’s words echoed in his mind again. Wait here till I come back. He knew it was a straight road and he thought of the prospects of going back alone. I have done it multiple times, he thought again. But on the other hand, it was his father’s decision. His father must have had something in mind.

A few glow-worms lit the road like some sparse unwilling sources for whom glowing was that was beyond control. Dinesh closed his eyes partially to see the how the illumination effect changed as if these were glimmering stars flying about and lying around on the dusty path. Natural illumination. Nothing artificial. He ran his finger on his forehead to wipe off the sweat. Some dust accompanied it, and he sighed. Dusty sweat or sweating dust, he was not able to decide.

He turned his head and started to get up as he heard a familiar voice call out his name. A flicker of the kerosene lantern was visible in the distance and it became brighter with each second that passed.

In the next moment he was walking past all those minor stars that blinked and glimmered on the sides of the road holding his father’s hand. His father was talking to him and he, on the other hand, kept thinking about why he had been left alone in this evening to wait. Was it correct to be skeptical? Was it correct to think that my father is hiding something from me? I am growing, I can think, I can question, I can reason. Thirteen years is not a small age.

Why did you not take me home papa? Dinesh enquired plainly. There was a tinge of pain in his voice. Pain of the fear of neglect.

You are small Dinesh, his father smiled and retorted, we will tell you when you grow up.

Dinesh kept walking, holding his father’s hand and looked up trying to figure out the expression that his father had. There was too much confusion in his mind. The wind grew stronger, colder, the sugar-cane leaves hustled more. The heartbeat however, was normal.

They reached home, and Dinesh waited outside the door of the compound reluctant to go in.

Fear of neglect is a terrible feeling. It is human nature to feel important, at least to the people whom you love. No one claims that he wants importance, but yet, your heart is smart enough to tell you that you have become insignificant. A liability. People’s actions tell you that. Although Dinesh did not know how to name this feeling, he only felt that his presence did not matter. Their lives will go on normally even if he was not there.

Dinesh! Dinesh! his father’s voice summoned him from inside the compound.

He did not answer.

Dinesh! another summon from his mother.

No answer.

After a few seconds his father came out, knelt down next to Dinesh and whispered in his ear. Dinesh, come in son, Ma is waiting. He stroked Dinesh’s head and persuaded him to come home.

Dinesh entered the door stepping into the compound and saw a new polythene covered bicycle. Straight handle, blue coloured center rod, thick tyres, adjustable seat and gears too. There was a strange silence. Dinesh looked around perplexed to his father and mother and back to his father.

His father was the one to break this silence.

Son, this is for you. You have your birthday after five days and this is your gift. In advance.