Today, after a long
interval, Ghosh aunty came to our house. In white saree, she looked more serene
and divine. After the demise of Ghosh uncle, she mostly, kept herself closed in-house.
She told my mother- Today is Babu’s anniversary. I have arranged a small “puja”
and “havan”. Please do come.” While returning, she handed over a paper bag
full of guavas and said – “After Babu left us, children have stopped altogether
coming to play on guava trees.” Ghosh
aunty was carrying several paper bags full of guavas.
House of Ghosh
family was third to our left. His only son came once or twice in a year. He was
employed somewhere else. Ghosh uncle was expert in playing Bridge. As such he
was anxiously awaited by my father and his colleagues in the evening. He must
be over 70 years but for his companionship with father, we used to call him
uncle. He was very fond of gardening. People from distant places came to his
house to see variety of high quality roses. The fragrance of roses used to
permeate entire locality. However, the star attraction of neighborhood children
was 4 guava trees that bore fruits all through the year. These trees became
highly benevolent during the summer season. Laden with fruits and bent with the
load, it seemed as if they were tempting, bewitching and inviting the children.
With the advent
of summer, we had morning schools. We came back by 1 in the afternoon. At the
height of summer, schools had summer holidays for around 45 days. When elders
chose to have a siesta in the hot summer afternoon, we children had a field day. We used
to gather preferably at a deserted house. There was no dearth of games to play –
pitto, hide and seek, lattu, daal-paat were a few to name. On getting tired,
there was “antakshni”. When we became hungry, there were guava tress but with a
tag – the terror of Ghosh uncle.
Ghosh uncle was
tall, heavily built and ivory black. Anybody would get terrorized if he
suddenly came across in the darkness of night. The worst part for the children was that he was a retired headmaster. His one stare was enough to
frighten and dumb-found children. He had a loud and commanding voice. When he
used to call his servant; the voice was heard at the distant roundabout.
Therefore, before attempting a conquest, it was imperative to
be totally sure that Ghosh uncle was absent or was in deep slumber. Ghosh
uncle, himself used to make such announcement through his loud snoring. 3 PM in
the afternoon was the best time for invasion.
A minor problem
was opening of the Iron Gate. Without oiling for long, the hinges made warning screeching
noise. It was easier and noiseless to cross over the 5 feet tall boundary wall.
But, here again, a slight miscalculation incurred bruises on the thighs and elbows.
Most of the times, there used to be a gang of 5 or more children- a mixture of
boys, girls and one or two preschooler of 5-6 years. Generally, girls used to
peep from their windows and wait to be included for the invasion. Girls are
very fond of unripe guavas. Very stealthily, we used to cross over the walls
and climb the trees. We stuffed our pockets and thereafter made bags of the
hanging portion of respective shirts or frocks. Finally, we used to sit
comfortably on the branches and eat to our tummy full. Here a little
complacence coupled with slight mistake, such as gossiping, a quarrel or a slip
and fall from the branches triggered awakening of Ghosh uncle.
First reaction of
Ghosh uncle was to shout before arising from the bed. His big body, loose dhoti
and bolts on the door used to give us ample time to disappear with the bounty.
Once, it so happened that the loud yelling of Ghosh uncle made 5 years old
Rohit immobile. He remained glued to one of the top branches in the crown. He
was a new entrant in the gang. It was a
miracle that he was missed by the line of sight of Ghosh uncle as he was
targeting the gate and the road to identify the fleeing miscreants. When, after
about half an hour, everything became quiet, we helped Rohit to cross over the
wall.
Once, we made a
great mistake. Only respite was that we were only two kids atop the guava trees
munching and pocketing fruits. Suddenly, we heard the screeching opening sound
of the gate. We held our breath and movement. Ghosh uncle closed the gate,
folded his umbrella, dropped down his cigarette, crushed the same beneath his
feet, looked around the campus and proceeded towards the few stairs leading to
the verandah and the door.
God only knows,
he never complained about us even when sitting for hours together on the Bridge
table with our parents. God must be knowing that after his demise why we never tried to
steal guavas even though they kept ripening and dropping to the ground. May be we felt
his presence – presence of his soul with big red-shot eyes guarding the garden
or else thrill and adventure were missing.
I accompanied
Ghosh aunty to the gate and repented to her – “Aunty! We were irritating and
annoying uncle very much.” Ghosh aunty took me to her arms and said smiling
with moistened eyes – “No son! Rather he used to take immense pleasure. He knew
all of you by names and gait. He used to wait for kids. What do you think? For
whom, he had planted 4 guava trees?”
