Hari hurried home. It was getting dark and the sun was tumbling down in the horizon. Flocks of birds were returning home, among the leaves of the massive, dark banyans at the edge of the fields, amidst loud twitterings. The goatherds and cowherds were also heading home with their flocks of sheep, goats, cows, kids, lambs and calves. In the dusty dusk, the last stray sun rays were rushing through the dusty foliage, to curl up in the lap of Mother Earth and tuck themselves in for the night.The air was punctuated with the bleats and moos of happily tired beasts, looking forward to turn in too.

Hari hurried on. He was late, and his mother would be waiting for him. At this time all mothers, including his, would be found hunched up over their wood fire, rustling up a simple meal to fill the empty stomachs, at the end of a hard day’s work.

“Ma, I am home!” he yelled as soon as he reached.

There was no reply… strange, he thought,but he went on to freshen himself at the well.

“Ma, I am hungry… is dinner ready?” But there was no reply by his loving mother.

So, unlike his mother! He stepped into the courtyard to look into the dilapidated kitchen,

his senses alert. There was a lot amiss…no smoke, no aroma of food cooking, no hustle- bustle and no signs of his mother.

He ran from room to room, corner to corner, but there was no sign of his dear mother. ‘Whatever could have happened?” he wondered.

The birds had settled into their nests, the cattle watered and fed, the little unknown village seemed cradled in a cocoon, prepared to rest through the night. Little lanterns had been lit in most homes spilling pools of yellow light. But there was no sign of mother. He decided to check with the neighbours.

“Is my Ma here, aunty?” he asked hopefully.

“At this time? Are you crazy?” said the bewildered middle aged rotund lady.

“Have you seen Ma?” he asked the other neighbour.

“No, not since afternoon. She said she was going to prepare your favourite dal for dinner. Is she not there at home?” replied the elderly, lean matriarch.

“No! I think something terrible must have happened. It is so unlike her to not prepare dinner in the evening, or simply disappear.”

He thought of checking the homes of all their  friends, probably he would gather some information. Lighting a little lamp… he set off.

The light did little to dispel the darkness, but cast long, dark shadows that danced on the ground and all around. His weariness and hunger had long disappeared.

The plodding around was of little help. None knew of her disappearance. By the time he reached the edge of the hamlet, despair got the better of him. Sitting down on a log by the pond, worry and terror descended on him. The night sky was ink blue, with a billion sparkling stars, like crystals sewn on a Queen’s dress. Pondering what could happen, he tried to banish his fears, holding on to the view that she must be fine. Just delayed in getting back home.

A scream for help rang out in the quiet surroundings. Taken aback, he thought it was his mother. He ran in the direction of the sound. His lamp bobbing up and down, casting shadows in a mad frenzy that spun out in all directions. It stopped as suddenly as it had begun. He was in the forest now. Utterly confused, he wondered what to do. After all he was just a young medical student.

The rumbles in his stomach combined with the pain in his muscles, urged him to seek rest and food. But, in that dark desolate forest,  he was the odd one.The star spangled, inky sky with the fireflies flitting among the boughs  created a peaceful ambience. But, he was there because of that scream… a woman’s, his mother’s. The cool air and the night sounds of crickets, cicadas and croaking frogs seemed more menacing than melodious.

He turned homewards.The light in his lamp had begun to flicker.  The forest that he had grown up playing in, swinging from the branches, hiding behind the massive trunks, suddenly seemed menacing, like uncles turned monsters. The disturbing thought brought him back to his mother’s disappearance… without any trace. Scuffing his toes in the dusty trail, his mind wandered … back to the traumatic days of childhood.

***

“Aahhhh!” the loud piercing wail followed by thumps on the wall in their dilapidated cottage, often punctuated the evenings; after the frugal meal was served to his father. A man who was unemployed and inebriated. Yet, since he was the man of the house, he had the authority to beat his wife, snatch all her hard earned income,from the tedious task of  manual labour while spending it on his addiction.No one did anything to stop the cruel behaviour. The neighbours whispered excuses among themselves…

“He is the husband after all!”

“What can anyone say? He is a grown up man.”

 “Its their private matter”,  

 “ A husband and wife always have fights!”

“ Lets help them to overcome their differences.”

”But how?”

Sheer terror would envelope his heart and slowly crawl over his mind. He wanted to rush to his mother, wipe the red blood, oozing from her head and the warm tears trickling down from her eyes. His heart bled for her.

And he hated him! He would have beaten that cruel, barbarian of a man- his father, but for the fact that one look at him, was enough to turn the little boy into stone, quite immobile. For hours he would wait, for the man to leave. Only then, he would muster enough courage to take care of his mother. Often he would call their neighbours. They would be waiting with all their herbs and medicines. They would wail with her at times too. Sometimes the village doctor would be sent for. Once he watched, holding her hand, stroking her head, as the doctor bent over her with a needle and stitched the gaping skin over her eye. The old man laboured in the golden glow of the brave little lamp, murmuring soothing encouragement to the battered lady, willing her to heal and gain strength.

One day when he was nine or ten or maybe nine and a half, he didn’t remember, he begged his mother to go away. “Ma, lets go away, lets go to a place far away, where this man can never touch you again. I want you to live with me, without blood oozing from your head or tears tumbling from your eyes.” To which she had smiled and replied, “Now, my son has grown up!”

Then she closed her eyes, with a faint smile on her lips while tears continued to flow.

That night when the inebriated man returned, there was no dinner for him. That was enough to send him into a rage. Cursing loudly, he lunged towards his woman, aiming to grab her hair. But he could only grasp air… A small, brown hand held his wrist in an iron grip. Rage turned to fearsome fury. He turned to look at that he had sired… the whimpering insect! But, he froze. The steely resolve in the deep dark eyes, the lean browned body of a lad not less than any Prahlad, slowly instructed never to lay a finger on his mother. In his inebriated state as he lunged to attack this new threat, he toppled over. Howling in anger and frustration he stumbled to get up, grabbing the first thing he could lay his hands on. As he raised the weapon… he felt his wife’s hardened hands yank his wrists backwards. The weapon, a stick, went flying from his hand.

For the first time he heard her voice, not in pain, but filled with determination and absolutely fearless. “You better leave and never come back. Today, I am letting you go alive but next time, it will only be your dead body. Do you understand?”

That was the last they ever saw of him.

***

Crash! He went flying! The light had long gone from the lamp. In the dark, he had struck against a protruding root and crashed. “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” he screamed in pain. Like a rude interruption, the symphony of the forest was marred. While the crickets stopped serenading, as if to enquire who could be so rude, distant howls of wolves echoed all around. The sudden screech of an owl added to the creepy atmosphere. The lamp went sprawling and so did one of his shoes. The ankle seemed tender. He felt around and was reassured it was not broken. But there was a swelling and it was painful. Fear came swirling down. Childhood nightmares and a strange worry about the person he loved the most, only heightened it.

That’s when he felt it. A stench of rotting flesh, coupled with loud sniffs. What was it? What could it be? His instinct kicked in and he stood up. “Shoo, shoo!” he shouted.By now his vision had adjusted a little to the darkness. There stood around him a pack. Most handsome specimens, but also utterly dangerous. The three wolves maintained their distance but seemed to prepare to have a hearty meal. Mustering up all his courage, Hari shouted, “Jai Ramji ki! Jai Bajrangbali!…” and all the other Gods he could remember. He swung round and round facing each of them, trying to decipher which was the leader. The glowing fireflies floated around as if nothing was amiss, making the moments surreal.

“Hattt, hattt, hattt!” sounded loudly.The wolves paused for a while and loped off, melting in the darkness.

Lamps danced from behind the trunks of the trees, emitting streams of light. They were raised for Hari to see who held them. It was none other than their neighbours. Truly a God sent. A blessing in disguise. The men came forward, and between them helped a hobbling Hari home.

“But how come you reached in the nick of time, Chacha?” he asked dazed. He was still getting over the fact that he was no longer in danger. “We heard your loud appeals to God and ran as fast as we could. Thanks to Shri Ram we were in time,” relief palpable in the old man’s voice. “But how come you happened to be in the forest, now? Of course my life is now yours to command but your timing was like Shri Krishna’s in case of Draupadi!”

“When you didn’t return for a long time, your aunts, our wives urged us to go and look for you and your mother. We found your footprints leading to the forest but none coming back. So, we hurried as fast as we could,”explained the men.

“I heard a loud scream, like that of my mother’s but I could not find any humans. I am very worried about her well being. I pray Ramji will keep her safe like He did me!”

The older men reassured him and kept him engaged in conversation, while they all limped back to the safety of their hovels.

He felt overwhelmed with the hero’s welcome he received. The doctor ruled out any severe injury “I have applied my herbal paste, now you will be on your way to recovery.” A plate of hot dal and rice appeared from nowhere and his stomach rumbled with disbelief. He attacked it with gusto, relishing each morsel. But his mind was ticking away in panic.

***

Mother and son worked hard together, fighting their pathetic condition, but their love for each other was enough. Years of pain can not be erased overnight. Their steely resolve forged deep reserves of patience and self belief. Ma, often said it was the strength of Goddess Durga  that showed up in her, that fateful day. Her belief increased by leaps and bounds, now that she had evidenced Divine intervention. When Hari teased her that people were now scared of picking any bones with her… she would feign annoyance while laughing mirthfully.

Time passed as its wont to do.

Hari studied hard. He wanted to study and not be just another goat herd. He spoke to his mother and shyly shared his ambition to be a doctor. Stunned, she listened to him and blessed him. “May your dreams come true, my son!”

The neighbours too seemed quite relieved, not to have to deal with the merciless and meaningless abuse. They were happy to take the de facto orphaned child under their wings as laughter reigned in their neighbourhood.

Hari soon started walking to the nearest railway station a few miles away and then boarding the train to the nearest town. The lone medical college was the symbol of many aspirations. Most came their to serve their villages, hamlets and towns, but there were those odd ones who wanted to make money and become rich.

The life of medicos is tough. Hours of preparation are converted into deep knowledge, because on ground it would make a difference between life and death for some future patient. Besides that are long hours of duty to train them for emergencies, with little time for meals or rest. The worst was the ragging by seniors. Some of them were simply sadists. Though Government rules were in place, on ground implementation left plenty to be desired.

Worse, he could hardly talk to any one about it. His mother, his simple village folk, none would understand. If they did they would ask him to leave everything and come back to their land.

“As a farmer you will grow enough food to ensure your family does not go hungry,” they would say.

***

As he was dozing off to sleep, his subconscious was analysing all that had happened. The early start to the day, the walk to the station - like a warm up to the marathon of a day, hanging on to the overhead rail as he somehow squeezed into the densely packed train, the entire day at college- attending lectures, dodging bullies, labs and finally getting home. But where was Ma? Is she all right?

Next morning he woke up when the sun had already climbed way up into the blue sky. He rued the delay, an aberration that had never occurred in his life ever before. Panic gripped his heart… how would he reach college? Only to be replaced with a panic slowly rolling over him like a serpent, about his missing mother.

He urged himself out of his tattered cot and wondered what he could do, rather should do. “Dada?” he heard the neighbouring kid Shambhu call out hesitantly. “What are you doing here Shambhu? Don’t you have to take the goats today?”

“You gave me a break.”

“Did I? How so?” asked Hari, making every effort to keep his panic down.

“Ma said I should keep an eye on you while you snored… I mean, slept,” laughed the little urchin.

“I am grateful my little brother. Hey, did you see my mother yesterday? I am really worried about her. I have promised Hanumanji desi ghee laddoos as soon as I come to know about her well being!”

“Then you will have to give some to me as well. I saw her following a man in the forest, last evening, just before dusk.”

“What? Who was it? Where did she go? In which direction?”

“They were headed towards the abandoned temple, I think. Now that I think of it… probably it was your father. I saw him last so many years ago, it was difficult to recognise him.”

Tell your parents what you just told me. Ask them to meet me there,” he said as he ran at top speed, stopping only to collect his bottle of water.

He did not notice the green glossy leaves on the overhanging boughs, nor did he notice the twittering birds flying here and there. The dusty trail muffled the urgency of his pounding feet. Finally he could see the spire of the old temple, peeping through the tree tops. He stifled his urge to call out loudly, just chanting the names of his Gods, when he spotted vultures circling overhead.

As he burst into the clearing, he bit his hand hard to avoid screaming. There on the steps lay his dear mother, immobile and lifeless. A few feet away he saw the body of a man, face down in the dust, with an axe sticking out of his back at an odd angle.

Rushing to his mother he saw dried blood spattered on her face. Quickly he checked her pulse and eyes. “Ma,” he whispered, relieved she was alive!

He tried to revive her, massaging her hands and feet,calling out to her reassuringly, “Everything will be fine Ma,” “Open your eyes, Ma!” “Look at me” and he went on and on, wiping her face and giving her some water.

Soon his neighbours, chachas and chachis arrived enmasse, trotting as fast as they could. The gory scene caused them to gasp.

She finally opened her eyes, “Hari,” she whispered softly, “I have finished him! He won't trouble us any more. You will be a doctor!”