Translated from the Original Hindi by
Kanwar Dinesh Singh
Summer vacations. Like every year, my niece has come here for a week with her six-year-old daughter, Udita—fickle, talkative, innocent, and does not sit in one place for a moment; so her uncles affectionately call her Udi.
She’s quite comfortable with me. Repeatedly, I say to her, “Go and take a rest for a while in your uncle’s room, then come again…but she escapes from there and comes back to me…again…then, hot midday―horrific heat―the power cut… I am sitting on the porch.
Suddenly, there’s the creak of gate opening. Who could be there at such a terrible noon? The couriers only come until eleven in the morning or at five in the evening….
A female skeleton…carrying a bundle of rags in the left arm. She came closer, “Mother, I bow to you, please get me some cold water…It will be so kind of you….”
Stunned, I got up and filled an empty Bisleri (drinking water) bottle with some normal water along with cold water…lest, in such heat, too much cold water might cause harm to her…but she did not take it. She put the bundle down and took water into her cupped palms…There was a rustle in the bundle. Oh! It was a live baby!
It was horrifying…like the skin was stuck on the bone! Sunken eyes! In such scorching sunlight and heat, the mother and the son were wandering on the streets…alas! Only God knows His ways! Not decided what to do, I turned to go inside, but got confounded…Udi was watching all that. Holding my knee, very innocently, she said, “Granny, you say, sole water is harmful; why don’t you give them something to eat and prepare the sharbat Rooh-Afza for them…Granny, give Frooti (flavoured soft-drink) to that little baby!” I was angry at my silliness as to why I couldn’t think of it. It was my duty…I felt very ashamed…but then I softly stroked Udi:
“Just stop them, I’ll get them some breakfast.” I put some food on a paper plate, then filled cold milk in a glass. She said to Udi, “You hold this plate….”
She immediately retorted, “No, I will take the milk to the baby.”
Handing over the glass of milk very carefully to the woman sitting outside, she said, “Give the milk to your baby.” That woman’s look became so deep in my mind that I will not forget it in my lifetime. Severe heat and hot air were lost somewhere … Suddenly, a gust of the cool breeze came, showering the flowers of jasmine!
-0-Kanwar Dinesh Singh, Poet, Storyteller, Critic and Translator (English/Hindi), Associate Professor of English & Editor: Hyphen
Email: kanwardineshsingh@gmail.com
Mobile: +91 94186 26090
