My Silly World

Day one

Every day has its worth for making of one’s life; today is very special to me for I have met you- my life. I am thinking why we didn’t met earlier? Why God kept you hidden from me? It’s unfair. But my silly heart says “still its not too late.” Thanks God then for showing me my life today.

I don’t know if it matters to you to see me: it means lot to me- you are the one I have been looking for.

You are wonderful as my silly heart puts it. You look really great with your hair- dense and smooth, skin- fair and soft, smile- strange and beautiful, voice- low, slow and sweet, and your shy-shy nature which make you a perfect girl.

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“Go to bed, Obing” his mother would say whenever she saw him keeping late hours. “Go to bed. Keep rest of homework for tomorrow." But it was always when the rooster crow when Obing would finally retires to bed.

And his mother, who thought him to be keeping late hours to do his homework, felt sorry for him. She blamed the teacher for overburdening a student with so much homework. At the same time, she was proud of him and she would spare no time to announce before her friends and the women of the neighbourhood that her son, Obing, was very punctual and she need not tell him to study.

Three days before the annual examination, Obing finished his writing. He collected some colour sketch pens and wrote on the covering page 'My Twelfth Birthday'.

Now all his worries had gone. Since ten months from now, he has been a worried boy. He was worried because it occurred to him that he might die any time: the earthquakes may rock, the volcanoes may erupt, or bullets from some wicked man may stain him. He knew what would happen if he die now: he would lay in front of his parents, friends and dear ones with his eyes, ears and mouth still with him yet unable to see so tragic a scene; unable to hear his mothers lamenting cry and unable to say a word to console her "Mama cry no more I can’t bear seeing you crying." Then, later on, he would be buried under the earth as if a useless waste. His dreams, his plans which he wanted to carry out and put before the world would be buried along with him. And in few days, he would be forgotten. So he felt urgently that he should do something so that his name lives long after he is dead.

"Write autobiography” his inner voice had told him. "Write autobiography as Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru did."
He read some passages from his autobiography and smiled. He felt like going all through it. But he had no time; he had lot to study in a very short time- only three days were left for the examination. He hid his so called autobiography in the cupboard. Then he pulled out a book from his school bag and sat down to the study table to prepare for his exam.

After a month.

Obing went to school to collect his progress report card. When he was about to enter the class, he heard someone uttering his name. He turned around and saw his class teacher, Madam Das and two women, talking. One of them was Aunt Kanya, who was a good friend of his mother. They did not notice him. Aunt Kanya was saying, “what about Obing’s result? I think he stood first this year also.”

“No," said the teacher. “I’m also wondering what has happened to him. Earlier he was very good - good at studies, every thing. But this year he neither attended his class well nor did his homework. Well he is passed with very poor marks."

“But his mother told me," said Aunt Kanya. “She told me he was working very hard - he had even stopped watching TV - he would just sit quietly reading and writing.” Madam Das shrugged her shoulder and said nothing.

“Some parents are like that,” said the another women. “They just love to praise their child for nothing. As for Mrs. Fatho, I know her. She always talks about her son endlessly that he does this and that and so on.”

Obing went red to hear such comments on his mother whose only fault was that she loved him so dearly. He did not enter the class but turned back and made his way straight to home. He took out his autobiography, tore it into pieces and threw into the dustbin. Now he decided to study hard, become something important, and let some biographers to write his biography.

It was the fifth day on trot; the strike of the Workers' Union of Ziro was on and there was no water supply in the town. It created lots of inconvenience to the town-folk, every body was complaining.

Mama would bring water from a well, some hundred metres away from home, while Papa and I were lying asleep. We always found water ready for us when we got up. We would wash and bathe unaware of the difficulty with which she brought water. Papa would go to his work and I would go to school, in time. There was no occasion for us to complain.

This morning I woke up at five, much earlier than I used to. Mama was already in kitchen with her chores. She seemed delighted to see me waking up. She asked me, from there in the kitchen- without moving, just turning her head towards me, if I could bring a bucket of water from the well. I happily took two buckets in hands and went off. I loved to obey my parents- may be they did not gave me too many works to do, that is why. In fact, I cannot say no, even if I wanted to, especially when Mama made such a polite request.

I walked merrily, whistling and swinging the buckets, on my way. It was a pleasant morning. Cool, fresh air was breezing past. Everyone seemed to be so nice- the girls and boys, I walked past, were smiling at me. I did not know walking out early in the morning could be so delightful. I should wake up early more often, I told myself.

"To collect water, Obing?" It was Tajang. I nodded. He was jogging with Taka. They too were smiling at me. Suddenly I smelled a rat in their smiling faces. Before long I overheard Taka whispering into Tajang's ear, "Like a girl, isn't he?"

Now I knew why Nanya and Yakang were smiling. They were standing in verandah, looking at me and talking in whispers. And, finally, I reached the well to find the place overcrowded with women and girls, all struggling for water- each trying to draw water first.

"Hi Ronya," I greeted my classmate who had just drawn water and was coming towards me.

"Hi!" She jumped for me. "What a surprise, what are you doing here?" I looked at the buckets in my hands and felt like fool. Before I said anything, she said "Oh To collect water?"

"Why, what's the wrong with that?" I could see she sensed the harshness of my voice.

"Nothing wrong with that " she said politely "Actually, it's so odd to see boy of your age come here to collect water. If you don't mind, leave the buckets here I'll carry water to your home."

"Thanks a lot." I said, forcing myself to sound polite. "That's very nice of you but I'll manage it."

"Ok. See you" she said and went her way home.

I was standing where Ronya left me. All sort of conflicting thoughts were making riots in my head. Why people don't mind their own business? What's wrong in obeying parents?

I was angry with everyone, more so at Mama, who told me so easily, so carelessly as to bring water from the well. What did she thinks of me? I was not a girl. I was not a servant either. I was a son of respectable parents. Moreover, I was no longer a small kid. I was now a big boy and to carry water home from well was not a proper thing for me. Such task was only suited for girls, women, servants and to some extent younger boys, certainly not for a decent big boy like me.

Angrily, I dropped the buckets where I was standing. I went back home empty handed and disturbed in spirit, ready to speak back in most impolite of words, if Mama dare suggest that it was unworthy of me not to do her a small favour.

There came Mama limping out of kitchen. I could see her right foot swelling all over. I wanted to ask her what had happened to her foot, but found myself fumbling with words.

"Have you brought water, Obing?" she said. I was still fumbling with words. She looked at me and then said, "It's ok. It's very rush out there at this time I brought some early this morning if not for that ladder it has to fell on my foot I would have brought more. We'll manage from what we have."

"Mama" I could say, at last "You should rest your foot and put some ointment."

"It's fine- just a little bit of swelling where have you left the buckets?"

"There I left them with Ronya to draw up water. I came here to see if there are some more empty buckets."

"That's very sweet. Just bring those. You have to get ready for school."

I felt so sorry. I sped back to the well to bring water.