FREEDOM UNTIL MIDNIGHT (Memoir series – Story 8)

MORE ACTION THAN I CAN STOMACH IN A DAY

Oh boy, I’m in such a hurry! I’ve got to wash my hands and go faster than a rocket to solve the mystery of that sound.

But I can’t find a wash basin anywhere! Maybe I should’ve just wiped my hands on my shorts like my cool cousin does.

Wait, what’s this? Mummy points me to a shiny brass thing filled with water, sitting out on the veranda. I pour some water from it on to my hand and run super-fast.

Uh-oh, Mummy is right behind me. Time is slipping away. I can’t waste a single moment!

Look, look! My cousins and some other cool kids from the neighbourhood are turning into daredevil divers, leaping off the super high walk bridge. They go swooshing through the air, and when they hit the water, it makes the most gigantic splash ever! It’s like BOOM!

I really, really want to dive right in and join the splish-splash party. Mummy gives me the green light to stand on the lower steps with the water tickling my knees. Unfortunately, Mummy’s voice has that serious “no more” tone. So I guess a little splash is better than nothing. It’s a good start, after all.

Oh my! Just when we’re having a big splash, my Aunty declares it is time to end the crazy splashing because it is getting dark. My cousin tries to argue, but Mummy joins Aunty. And now the message is clear to everyone—no more swimming.

So, one by one, we reluctantly crawl out of the water like soggy little tortoises. And try to grab the only two towels lying around. We pass them around, trying to dry off all five of us all at once. It’s a towel-sharing extravaganza!

But hold on a minute, all this excitement has made me really hungry. But Mummy says dinner won’t be ready for a while. 

As the darkness sets in, the sky fills with long and hurried chirps and tweets. Birds of all shapes and sizes take flight, forming their own little groups up above.

It’s funny how the hens scramble and perch on a tree next to the cow shed. My cousin tells me that the branches of this tree are the favourite night-time resting place of all our hens. 

And after a while, the place gets eerily quiet. No more dragonflies whirling through the air, no more squirrels running along the fence, no more bird calls.

All that remains is a light breeze ruffling the leaves.

I’m thinking, why doesn’t anyone flip a switch and light up this darkness? And then, aha! I spot some fancy brass lamps, big and small, being carefully placed in the rooms and the porch. It’s like we’ve entered a magical kingdom of oil lamps. The burning oil fills the air with a peculiar smell. It’s a fragrant mystery!

Mummy says that electricity hasn’t reached our village and the surrounding ones. Oh, so that’s why we have so many oil lamps!

Dressed in comfy home clothes and still feeling hungry, I’m following my cousin everywhere he goes. He’s my trusted guide now. And I feel safer when he’s around, especially with all those lizards on every wall. He tells me I should just ignore them. They’re there to catch flies, that’s all. But I don’t like how some of those big ones look at me.

We wander around the house while he tells me cool things we can do tomorrow. That’s great, but right now my main focus is dinner.  The appealing smells are pulling me toward the kitchen.

It’s a huge kitchen. But there are too many people doing too many things there. So I better get out of the way.

My cousin has a secret plan to satisfy our hungry bellies. But we have to keep it super-secret. He takes me up a creaky wooden stairway, and my heart beats louder than my rumbling tummy. We’re on a secret mission and have to be super quiet.

He pushes up a wooden hatch that blocks the attic. With caution, he enters the attic while I wait on the last step holding a small torch out for him. He grabs a handful of bananas from one of the many bunches hanging from the low ceiling, and we fill our tummies until we have too many banana skin peels to handle.

We sneak out to the cowshed after closing the hatch and leave the banana peels in front of the cows.

From there, I catch a distant glimpse of a girl singing a wondrous tune. Peeking across the stream, I see our neighbour’s house, where a big brass lamp shines. My cousin explains that the melody I’m hearing is a Hindu prayer chant. It’s so strangely soothing, with its peaceful rhythm.

Just then Granny calls all the kids for prayers. 

So we sneak back into the house.

Granny sits on a mat rolled out on the veranda floor. The light from the brass lamp brings a warm glow to our faces. She reads from her big Bible and says a prayer. Surrounded by family, listening to Granny’s gentle voice, I’m a happy soul with a belly full of stolen bananas.

Finally, Aunty calls out that dinner is served. The smell of freshly fried fish fills the air. Nice!

I wonder if there will also be some fluffy omelettes like the ones I used to eat from the Church mess in Calcutta. Maybe, I’ll get lucky. 

We have all sorts of delicious dishes like fish fry, spicy fish curry, and prawn curry. Yum! But you know what’s missing? Omelettes!

After stuffing ourselves, everyone starts getting super sleepy. One by one, everyone goes off to their cozy bedrooms. 

Us cousins, we got to sleep on these squishy cotton mattresses spread out on the floor. Guess where we ended up? In Uncle’s room, the one with his wooden desk full of boring account books.

And as I dream of jumping dolphins and flying ice creams, a grumpy monster attacks my stomach, and sleep becomes impossible.