Ashok Kumar Dash

Jamshedpur, Jharkhand, India

“Vishal, come on, we are getting late”, cried Arnab – my school days’ friend and colleague in Tata Steel. We grew up in the same ‘mohalla’, studied in the same school, had been to the same college, served in the same company, and have since been retired. The coincidences did not cease here. We purchased flats in the same apartment and are now neighbours.

“Just a minute please”, I said.

“Pompi, be quick. Nanaji is waiting outside.” Pompi, my granddaughter, is eleven years old and studies in std. 7.

Arnab and I meet sometimes twice or thrice a day but at least once in the evening without fail. We take a walk accompanied by our guide Pompi. I say ‘guide’ because it is she who decides where to go, how far to go, and how long to stay over there.

“Let’s go to jayanti Sarovar today”, she insisted. ‘Jayanti Sarovar’ is a lake in the Jubilee

Park. I was not in a mood to go over there, partly because I had gone there several times in the past and partly because there was nothing new to see but water. But we had no other option. As I said, hers was the final word.

We three set out from our apartment, walked along the Sandline Road, past the Bengal club, on to the Jubilee Park.

Over the years Jamshedpur has changed drastically. More malls, more apartments, more crowds, more haste, more noise, more heartaches, more heartbreaks, more crimes….and many more. Numerical progress indeed!

I was engrossed in such cynical thoughts when Pompi exclaimed, “Dadaji, look above. How beautiful the sky is! Fantastically blue! Mountain is blue. Sea is blue. I like them. I like blue colour!

“Vishal, let’s have a cup of tea” said Arnab, holding my hand, as we were going past a tea stall.

“No, no, nanaji”, intervened Pompi, “don’t have tea over there. They serve it in plastic cuppas. Pointing out to a ‘thela’ (a handcart with four wheels) she said, “Look, the ‘chaiwala’ (tea man) is selling tea in ‘kulhar’ (earthen pot). Please have your tea there. You will like it. It’s so earthy, so refreshing!

“How do you know?” Arnab asked.

“My friend Sohani offered me the other day”,said Pompi.

We took our tea from the ‘chaiwala’. It was really tasty. We thanked Pompi for her suggestion, nay, guidance.

Within no time we reached the lake. The sun was setting. The crimson rays fell on the water of the lake. We took our seats on a bench at one corner. I and Arnab were busy discussing things – regional, national, and international – when Pompi cried out with ecstasy, “Dadaji, Nanaji, look at the big waves in the lake. Also look at the huge rainbow over there, with seven distinct colours!”

Nonplussed I looked at Arnab, and he at me.

Arnab said, “Where do you see waves and rainbow, Pompi? We see none.”

I said, “Pompi, my darling, it’s your illusion. Those are not waves. Those are mere ripples tinged with purple colour of the setting sun. And your rainbow? It’s simply a hallucination.”

But Pompi was firm.

“No, grandpa, I clearly see waves sparkling, dancing, and moving forwardin quick succession, under the arch of a multi-colour rainbow. You can’t see it as you have cataract in your eyes. Look through my eyes and you can see it.”

The night was drawing near. I and Arnab sat in a trance – for how long I didn’t remember. A cold breeze had started blowing. It whispered many a thing into my ears. The words of Pompi-“Look through my eyes and you can see it” kept reverberating in my mind. I was awakened to a new self.

“What about revisiting our school tomorrow?” I asked Arnab.

His face lit up with a genuine smile. There was also an air of understanding writ large on his face.

After a pause he nodded. And we headed for our homes.

On our way back we didn’t speak much. Back at home I had my dinner and lay in my bed. Again some bizarre thoughts filled my mind. What if Pompi grows up into a granny some day? What if her granddaughter tries to show her a rainbow at the lake? Will Pompi be able to see it? More importantly, will Pompi the junior be at all there willing to show the rainbow and Pompi the senior willing to see it? May be or may be not.

Some fifty years down the line it will be a changed time. And it may have its own tale to tell. Who knows?

But my heart ached. I kept tossing and turning in my bed throughout the wakeful night.