This one is for Ayush T K Hamal, Captain forever, beloved son.
I publish this today, a year after Jashan's classmate and friend, The Cherub, left us, and almost a year after it was written.
BD
BD walks his
rounds at night. The kids are all in bed. They recognize his step, and those
who are still noisily chatting away pipe down as he approaches and pull their
blankets over their faces. It is so easy to spot the chirpy ones, and it is
part of BD’s daily dose of amusement to stand quietly for a few moments. The
youngest ones never fail to warm him way deep down inside to the very core of
his being as first one then some more pipe up in timid voices that get braver
as others join in. “Get to bed, you Kaddoos!”, they imitate him.
It is the
most rewarding part of the day for BD, who is known for being strict. The
children have adopted him. Pandemonium! Suddenly everyone seems to be awake and
shouting, “Good night, sir!”, “Go to sleep, you kaddoos!”
BD has to
come up with something new, they wait for it, “Awright, go to sleep, you
nincompoops!”
The old
wooden floors speak to him. The lights in the passage, dimmed now to smother
some of their energy, speak to him. He tries to take the same route on each of
his rounds, so that they can predict his coming and settle down in time without
harsher words. He really doesn’t want to surprise them and spoil the little
games they play or catch them at the mischief that children must make. There
are times when he must startle and ‘raid’, but they are out of the routine.
The beam
of the torch is aimed just above the level of their beds, not to hurt their
eyes, and enough to seek out the ones who would stir again as soon as he
leaves. The light pauses on some of these.
Up a
flight of wooden stairs, bigger kids, rowdier, BD stricter, jokes lesser. Along
a long lonely passage with lockers on both sides; even after forty years of
this, he sometimes glances back over his shoulder, half expecting to see the
resident ghost.
Down a
steep flight of wooden stairs. Half his life ago, he would rattle and slide
down these stairs so very fast… Here, BD’s wisecracks are laden with sarcasm,
sometimes bordering on wickedness; the boys are bigger and he has a reputation
to maintain. Some of them take his cue and join in to laugh at the hapless
targets. They wish him “Good night!” and inwardly he feels a glow of
satisfaction; he’s handling it right – strict enough to stop any nonsense and
friendly enough to get them to volunteer a ‘Good night’. They don’t resent him,
mostly.
More
passages, more stairs. Wet smells. A ‘sentry’ scurries off at the end of the corridor
to warn his cronies that BD is on the prowl. Some bloke is singing as he takes
a wash before retiring. A couple of them are doing pull-ups on a water pipe
that has never been known to complain. BD mocks them and eggs them on to do
more, and ropes in a few bystanders, too! There is mutual respect for the good
things between the boys and the older man.
Concrete
floor, a row of beds on both sides as he walks down to the other end. Ninth
graders. They settle into bed as he passes through on his way to the senior
boys at the far end who always welcome him. That is one place where he feels
especially blessed; it is usually a clash of egos with the senior-most ones,
but these ones welcome him as a benign elder and a friend. Captain stays there.
Back
through the ninth graders. A low clear voice, “Good night, sir!” Sweetness
drips. This is The Cherub. The naughtiness is bubbling just under that angelic
voice. Even if he breathes there’s got to be some element of fun or mischief
involved in it! A couple of years ago he looked at BD’s untied beard and asked,
“Sir, may I touch it?” Who could say no to such appealing innocence! Next question,
“Is it real?” BD quickly pulled away before The Cherub could start tugging to
find the answer!
Now BD
smiles in the darkness, “Good night, buddy!”
A whole
lot of others take the cue. One likes to think that if they say it, they mean
it.
One night
BD sits down on the bed next to him, “You feeling okay, buddy?”
“Yes
sir!”
“Then how
come you’re being so good, wishing me every night?” Giggles all around.
“Good
night, sir!” This time there seems to be no naughtiness, only sweetness,
blessed sweetness. BD can’t help patting his head and ruffling his hair.
........................................................................................................................................
Coach
Coach has
been unwell this season. He has lost a lot of strength, from outside and
inside.
In three
months, he lost twelve kilos off his already lean frame. Then some virus found
him an easy target. By the time they broke for summer, he was almost bedridden.
But he
had planned and arranged a trek for the children. The kids were so eager, and
their friends were gathering. It was not in Coach to back out now and spoil
everyone’s holiday.
That trek
to Pindari Glacier took away more strength from his body, but his flagging
spirits rose as they saw glimpses of paradise. The joy on the children’s faces
gave him something to be happy about.
Swimming
has started in earnest after the summer break. There is a madness upon Coach.
He seems to be trying to prove something. He is getting into the water almost
every evening, steadily increasing the number of lengths he swims. He is
demonstrating dives. He is deliberately defying the cold. Only Captain is privy
to his inner world. Captain knows that Coach is fighting for fitness the only
way he knows, “Get in there and do it!” Captain respects the spirit.
The girls
always play in the water; ninth graders. They come more for fun than for any
serious training. Coach likes it that way. If they play with the water, it
shall always be their friend. Today, they’ve seen a metal bracelet lying at the
bottom in the deep end. They dive in and out in an effort to bring it up. Now
they see it, now they don’t. They merrily invite Coach to join them and help
find the bracelet. He declines; it’s a long evening ahead, and he doesn’t want
to get wet and cold this early.
When the
girls go, the boys come on, and Coach soon joins them in the pool. He gets a
couple of them to start looking for the bracelet. He wants to show it off to
his daughter and her friends who could not get it.
The boys
don’t see it. Coach takes a dive himself. He comes up before touching the
bottom.
Again.
Just last
year, he swam the length of the pool without surfacing even once. He goes in
fast. A few strokes along the bottom. Up again. A few feet have been covered,
but he’s not staying down long enough to sweep the area.
Perplexed,
he thinks for a moment, plans, and goes down again. No luck. Two kids are going
in and out with him.
Fourth
plunge. Coach goes straight for the bottom of the pool.
The next
thing, he finds himself gagging and sputtering at the surface. It takes a
moment to remember how he got here. Even as he tries to stay afloat, there is a
deep sense of peace and well-being upon him, almost luring him into giving up
the effort and just lying back, receding into the place he has just visited.
The
previous moment is alive in him. He remembers the rush of water by his ears as
he dives in. Then, nothing.
A sort of
gentle floating fall backwards into a darkness which envelops very lightly. A
bright darkness. Not a darkness that smothers, stifles or suffocates. A very
pleasing darkness. Not an absence of light; an absence of harshness. A light
darkness.
Soundless
music. No notes or tunes playing anywhere, but an absence of noise so sweet
that the silence is musical. The ultimate melody; felt, not heard.
A feeling
of immense, complete goodness. Peace; absolute peace. Contentment. A profound
knowledge of having found the destination. Knowing absolutely that this is it.
This is what makes life worth the while. This is where one belongs, where one
has always been headed.
No
anxiety or apprehension of meeting some greater power or being, just oneness,
completeness, peace, harmony. No life. No death.
An
insurmountable happiness. A very pure happiness.
The water
seems so gentle, the brightness of the evening so soft. Coach is tempted to just
relax and sink back. Small thoughts of what that would do his favourite sport,
how it would affect these children who swim around him oblivious of his
predicament, what it would do to his daughter who wanted to get the bracelet
out.
Coach
reluctantly tries to get control over his breathing and signals to the two
fellows nearest to him. They don’t react. A little distance away Captain senses
something amiss. He and PK rush in. Coach puts a hand each on their shoulders
and they swim to safety. Coach laughs weakly. They sense his mood and smile with
him. They love him, these blighters. The younger ones say they thought he was
demonstrating some of the lifesaving stuff he often talks about!
After a
few minutes, Coach gets back into the water and swims a length. He won’t let
fear come close. He can’t. Captain and PK are at his flanks.
Coach has
been beyond the horizon. He knows what lies there.
A few
days later, his doctor runs every necessary test on him. All parameters are
healthy. A second opinion confirms. Still, they prescribe some medicines. Coach
takes them for three or four days, and then stops.
The all
clear from the doctors gives him a new confidence. The return from beyond tells
him that there is more to be lived. He adds nuts, dry fruits, garlic and honey
to his diet. He swims with a vengeance. Ever so slowly, the needle turns and
moves upwards. He has now regained four of the lost kilos. The swimming season
ended two months ago, and he is now running three kilometres easily. Captain
shares his secret and gives him the love of a son.
Coach carries
the experience with him, and knows the bliss that lies beyond.
........................................................................................................................................
Almost
four in the morning, BD opens his door to find The Cherub there, not feeling
well.
The next
day, The Cherub departs, into realms unknown.
Mayhem.
It seems as if only BD takes time to pray. But that is presumptuous; surely
there must have been many others.
Only
Coach has been beyond the horizon. And BD knows.
It’s
alright to miss him. It’s fine for those he has left behind to be sad.
But Coach
has been beyond the horizon. And BD is Coach. The Cherub has reached The
Destination.
