It’s Holi again, thought Karamjit Singh. The festival reminded him of
only one person—his son…as if he had been able to forget about him
even for a second, for the past year, he thought.
“Baoji, I want to buy colors for Holi,” demanded his six year old
grandson Sahaj.
“No puttar, you know, we have decided never to celebrate Holi,”
Karamjit Singh tried to cajole the child.
“Why Baoji? My teacher was telling me that Holi is a festival of
colors and everyone throws colors on everyone and have fun. You know
we are going to have chutti in school for Holi,” persisted Sahaj as
only a child can.
For Karamjit it was a festival of death and all his happy
recollections of the festival were marred by the death of his son
alongwith other 34 sikhs of the village last year. He remembered last
year’s holi. He and his son Pammy along with Sahaj had gone to the
market a day before holi to make purchases for the festival. How happy
Pammy had been, unaware of the tragedy that awaited him and his
family.
“Baoji, I want to buy you a nice kurta-pajama with embroidery. You
select for yourself and please do it fast since we have to buy gujia
also otherwise that wife of mine is going to kill me,” said Pammy.
“No, puttar there is no need for all this. I don’t need a kurta
pajama. If I need one I will tell you. Let’s buy a dress for Sahaj.
His birthday is also coming,” saying this Karamjit entered a shop
followed by his son and grandson.
That was the last day he had spend with his only son, Paramjit or
Pammy as he was popularly called.
Inspite of himself, Karamjit was now angry with his grandson. He
looked harshly at Sahaj and said, “but don’t you remember that we
won’t ever play holi,” angry at the thought that the memories of his
son were going to die with him. But he had to live for as long as
possible… for his grandson. Sahaj’s mother had a nervous breakdown
after Pammy’s death and was not even capable of looking after herself
leave alone of looking after her son.
Karamjit was in a dilemma ever since. At his age he knew he couldn’t
live for long and then who would look after his daughter-in-law and
grandson.
~~~~
He was
suddenly angry with himself for scolding Sahaj. He was still a child
and didn’t understand the illogical and unimaginable strokes of
destiny.
~~~~
Sahaj would
have had picnics and games with his parents, would have learned to
ride bicycle with his father, would have gone for a holiday with them,
would have had birthday parties and visits to bazars, would have had
diwali with crackers and mithai and would have celebrated holi with
colors.… Now, he had a depressed grandfather and an absent mother for
company.
Sahaj woke his grandfather from his reverie with “Baoji, Sunny is
calling me. Can I go and play with him? Please let me go. I will
finish my homework after I come back.”
“OK, go but come back soon.”
Sunny was the boy next door and also Pammy’s classmate. Shared
background and shared tragedy had created a strong bond between them.
Most of the time they couldn’t understand what their parents or
grandparents were talking about but they could sense
some tension and really didn’t know what to make of it.
“You know Sahaj, my mother is thinking of working. Baoji was crying
and saying that he doesn’t want my mother to work but after papa went
away he doesn’t have a choice,”
“But what is your mother going to do? I have never seen women working
in our village,”
“Oh I don’t know,” said Sunny, “it was confusing and I couldn’t hear
the whole conversation but my grandfather was saying, `at this age
I’ll have to leave my ancestral home and go and start living in a
strange place’ and then Baoji hugged me and said, `Rab rakha puttar,
rab rakha’. What does all this mean?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been asking Baoji to buy me color for holi but he
won’t. Instead he started scolding me” said Sahaj throwing the ball at
Sunny.
“But don’t you know that our village has decided never to celebrate
holi again. Baoji told me last year terrorist came and killed Sikhs of
our village. They killed your father and mine as well and because of
that our village is never going to celebrate holi. And this year we
are going to have Akhand Path at Gurudwara,” said Sunny.
“What is a terrorist?”
“I am not very sure but he is someone who comes with gun and kills
people,”
“Like Superman?”
By now Sunny was losing interest in the conversation and said, “let’s
play” and the two boys started playing. The game came to an end only
when their guardians called them inside so that they could started
working on their homework and get ready for the class the next day.
Holi was on the minds of almost everyone—adults as well as children,
for different reasons though. Children noticed that the expressions of
adults changed as soon as they mentioned the festival. In fact, they
wouldn’t have even come to know that holi was round the corner but for
a chapter on the festival in their syllabus. And now they wanted to
play Holi without realizing the un-erasable wound it had left on their
mostly female guardians.
Sunny and Sahaj were subconsciously aware of their changed
circumstances and knew that they were different from other families in
the locality. Sahaj instinctively knew that his aunt was different
from his mother. His aunt, living in a nearby village used to wear
make-up and was always trying to make new dishes and was always keen
to take Sahaj for an outing.
“Baoji, why doesn’t mummy dress-up like massi? Why doesn’t she wear
nice clothes and laugh like her?” asked Sahaj.
“Because she is not well, puttar. You’ll have to take care of her when
I am not here. She is so sick she can’t take care of herself,”
“Baoji, are we also going to leave our village and live in Jammu,”
Sahaj asked.
“I don’t know, puttar. I don’t what fate has in store for you. You
mustn’t think about all these things. God will take care of you,”
“Sahaj, Sahaj are you coming to play,” shouted Sunny from outside the
house.
“Baoji, can I go and play with Sunny.”
“Go but come back soon.”
Sahaj rushed out of the house to be with his only companion. They both
offered each other a break from their dismal domestic circumstances.
“You know, we would be leaving this village the next week after Holi.
We won’t be able to meet then. Will you write to me, Sahaj,” said
Sunny.
“Why don’t you stay with us Sunny? I am sure Baoji will have no
objection. Then we can always be together,”
“But I can’t live without my mother and Baoji was saying that I am
quiet grown up now and that I’ll have to look after my mother,”
“You know, my Baoji was also saying the same thing to me. May be then
we would also be coming to Jammu and then we can meet every evening
and play together,”
“Yes, that’ll be nice. Come let’s play now,”
Both Sunny and Sahaj were aware of the impending separation between
them. At one level, they were even hoping that it won’t happen.
“Baoji, why don’t you tell Sunny’s Baoji and mother to not to leave
this village.”
“At least they have an option of leaving puttar. My dilemma is that I
don’t know for how long you and your mother are going to survive on my
small pension.”
“But you can convince Sunny’s mother to leave Sunny with us. He can
stay with us and we can always be together,”
“No, puttar. It’s not possible. I met Sunny’s Baoji today and they
have no option but to go. You must realise that sometimes one has to
do things one doesn’t like or want.”
“But who will I play with, Baoji?”
Karamjit had no answer. Finally the day to leave Chittisingpura came
for Sunny. Sahaj and Sunny promised to write to each other and visit
occasionally, if possible.
Sahaj’s father along with a number of other villagers came to see them
off at the station. Sunny’s mother and grandfather were in tears. And
Sunny was confused and withdrawn. Sahaj bade goodbye to Sunny and
returned home.
That evening he threw his ball in the village pond.
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