Hey Ram

Birds are loud
Sun is on the cloud
Singing to walls is bad
And birthdays are bad

I lay on ground staring at the stars and singing the self composed rhyme. Mrs. Kim, our care taker, English by origin, had once told that our loved ones, after death, became stars in the sky. Hence I was staring at the starry sky and surprisingly it stared me back. Sigh! It was just a story after all. They were celestial bodies and not the imprint of departed souls.
Would I be one of them some day? Oh! Come on I am going back to the fairytale. Life is not about tales, it is all about life…not to be taken seriously because no one lasts for long.

Blinking to the stars
I sat reclined
Thinking of rhymes that
Whispered to the mind

Days so golden that shimmer was stinging
Nights so breezy that dreams were twinkling

As a child I had wrinkles on face
Growing on others was probably my fate
I may sit and dream too high
But it was someone else who decides
Where on earth will I breathe
Where on earth will I die
Where on earth will I lie

My name was His
My luck His kiss
I dream of peace
But live piece by piece

Sigh! Why do I have to rhyme each time I think about it. I was still nostalgic and still waiting…
I sat in my brother’s lap at the gate of our home waiting for our parents to come back. It was the post Mahatma Gandhi assassination era. Everything was on fire! Guns, minds, houses. I had seen few people drag my father into a jeep. I didn’t understand why but as I saw my mother crying and running after them, I knew something was wrong and started crying. My brother Kishan hushed me and told me that they will come back soon.

They didn’t. But we waited…

We were sent to an orphanage in Sangli. There were other kids too from our village. And we all were supposed to be nurtured well, so that childless couples from rich families and big cities may come and adopt us. My brother’s time came too soon for me to realize that we were being separated forever. He pleaded his new parents to take me too but due to financial issues they couldn’t. So, he promised to come back soon and take me. He even called on Mrs. Kim’s phone to talk to me. He always said he will be around soon. Each time his voice was more solemn and I grew skeptical about our reunion. He promised to come back but he couldn’t. And I waited…

I was exhausted of waiting even tears had dried up of the sorrow. I was so fed up of Gandhi. He had made our lives miserable. Mrs. Kim had his portrait hung over the mantelpiece in her office. I hated her for that.
He first agreed to partition in which I lost my grandparents. He then decided to get assassinated in which I lost my parents. He then decides to create a rumble after his “Hey Ram!” in which I was separated from my only family after being brought to this orphanage. I bet he is now the pole star, transfixed in the sky making sure I lose everything. And yes I don’t have money because he is printed on it.
I was debating with myself over the issues I had with him when Mrs. Kim summoned me. I waited outside her office after being told there was a couple who wished to adopt me. I tried to settle my adamant hair. My thoughts ran back to him… oh great he didn’t have hair at all, gave all of them to me.

The couple inside was an elderly one and I was their candidate number one because of my eyes that I inherited from my mother. Almond shaped and green. My only asset.
I tried to hear what they were discussing.
“Yes sir! His birthday is on 30th Jan. He will turn 7 then”.
Wow I shared my birthday with his demise. No wonder.
“Oh! That’s just great Mrs. Kim and what else about this child that might encourage us? Just for a background, you probably know I was a student of Gandhi at the Sabarmati, when he was alive. Its my tribute and duty to him that I come here, and make one life better”.
Oh my God! He was some English man. I could recognize the accent.
“Well sir he is a grateful child. But there is something about what he feels about his birthday. He is sad on that day”.
“He doesn’t sound grateful then, assuming you celebrate it for him”, a lady spoke.
“Well he must have his reasons”.
“Isn’t he too young to think?
“Ma’am its life and fate! He is a child and has freedom of thoughts. I think he has something about it. He has faced too much and grown exponentially with years…mentally. I would like you to meet him now. Ram please come in dear.”
I entered and smiled sheepishly. The couple looked at me with interest. The lady looked strict but motherly and the gentleman was kind.
“Ram I would like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Richmond.”
“Namaste Sir, Namaste Ma’am.”
“Namaste Ram! Please sit”, the lady spoke to me. I sat on a stool near her. She asked me to look up taking my chin in her hands.
“Gosh! He has beautiful eyes”, my eyes fell on the portrait and they filled with rage. She pulled her hand back hurriedly.
“So Ram why don’t you like birthdays?”
“ummm I grow older each time. No one will adopt me if I am too old”, Mrs. Richmond was quiet.
Mr. Richmond spoke up,” I just saw anger in your eyes, is anything wrong?”
“Yes its Gandhi”.
Mrs. Kim fell quiet. I could see disappointment in her eyes, after a few minutes she asked me to leave.
“He is pacific and honest but…”, I heard no more, just ran away.
Next day Mrs. Kim came running to me with tears in her eyes. I was going to England with my new parents. She had probably told them about me and Gandhi.
[Ten years later]

I was sitting in my literature class at college just finishing this story, when I heard some humming from behind. Few girls were talking and giggling pointing to a new comer who had just entered. I ignored and went back to work. With a thud landed a bag beside me and a smiling face. The eyes probed me with recognition.
“Hey! Newcomer.”
“Hey Ram!”
The waiting was over.