The Garden of Uncle Ghosh

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?”