Slippery ground

It was not unusual for her to be restless right from the moment she woke up early in the morning. Running around, hiding below, jumping over every piece of furniture that was there in the house. It was not a big house any which way and therefore her antics was the cause of some serious commotion in the family. Every individual trying to anticipate her next move was always kept busy hiding away, putting beyond reach, drawing away her attention from that glass flower vase that Aloke mamu had brought from abroad two years back, from ma’s favourite crystal ganesh that she had bought last Durga puja and from such other “priceless” treasures of the family. I was ten and so had no such “treasures” to hide from her except a few kites which I guarded with great zeal and which were worth more than all the wealth of world put together.

It was the 17th of September Vishwakarma puja and hence no school. It is the day when one was supposed to (at least I strongly believed along with my friends) fly kites and make merry all day. I was eagerly awaiting this day that in many ways also marked the beginning of the festive season in Bengal. It must have been around ten in the morning when I decided that it was about time that I showed the world what a fine kite flyer I was at my age. I quickly went into my room, took out my “priced possessions” and ran up to the terrace. The terrace was all wet from the shower last night and was strewn with patches of green velvety moss. I could hear ma shouting out from the kitchen asking me…. well ordering me, to be careful on the slippery terrace.

Throwing all caution to the wind I started flying one of my kites and was soon engaged in an aerial battle with another kite being flown by one of my friend from his terrace. It was a battle till the end with no quarters to be given! I lost all sense of time and space and all I could see was my kite and my friend’s kite, all I could hear was my battle cry and my friends’ battle cry. I snapped back to reality when I realized that my kite was gliding away into the distance, as if it had a life of its own. I had lost the battle.

I kept staring at my beloved kite for a while wondering if baba would buy me another similar one. I looked down in remorse over my lost kite and battle and was horrified to see that I had, in my excitement, almost stepped out over the terrace. The terrace had no walls! I jumped back and got knocked over by something. It was her. She must have sneaked up to the terrace behind me avoiding ma and baba’s watchful eyes. I quickly gathered my stuff and dragged her down and raised an alarm over the fact that she had expressly violated the rule that she was not supposed to go to the terrace!

Before anyone could say anything she quickly fled the scene and hid behind the sofa set. I was surprised to find that ma was actually annoyed with me for having gone to the roof and having tempted her to follow me. The next half an hour was spent in pure Bengali style disciplining by ma, which essentially involved threats and warnings of dire consequences, strange apocalyptic predictions of a failed career and life and even weird explanations of how my obsession with kite flying was going to be responsible for that. While I stood soaking up all that ma had to offer, I could see from the corner of my eye that she was enjoying the fact that I was being reprimanded and was doing that stupid jig that she had picked from one of my cousins and performed with great exaggeration whenever she was pleased.

I couldn’t hold back my anger and as soon as ma was over with her sermon I quickly walked across to her and slapped her as hard as I could….it started to rain heavily outside….

She kept weeping all afternoon and out of exhaustion may be, she fell asleep…. I fell asleep too.

When I woke up it was evening, she was not there in the room. I walked across the drawing room and went to the window to see if she was playing in the garden when suddenly she shrieked aloud and we heard a dull thud and then there was silence. Ma and baba ran to the back of the house, I followed them as fast as my feet would carry me…there she lay….in front of our eyes….in a pool of blood…motionless, lifeless.

We later realized that she had once again sneaked up to the terrace and in her childish exuberance slipped and…

I still wake up in the middle of the night to a sharp shriek, a dull thud and a pool of blood…