Small Towns, Big Stories

by Ruskin Bond

  ‘The best smell in the world!’ exclaimed Bina.

  Everything suddenly came to life. The grass, the crops, the trees, the birds. Even the leaves of the trees glistened and looked new.

  That first wet weekend, Bina and Sonu helped their mother plant beans, maize and cucumbers. Sometimes, when the rain was very heavy, they had to run indoors. Otherwise they worked in the rain, the soft mud clinging to their bare legs.

  Prakash now owned a dog, a black dog with one ear up and one ear down. The dog ran around getting in everyone’s way, barking at cows, goats, hens and humans, without frightening any of them. Prakash said it was a very clever dog, but no one else seemed to think so. Prakash also said it would protect the village from the leopard, but others said the dog would be the first to be taken—he’d run straight into the jaws of Mr Spots!

  In Nauti, Tania Ramola was trying to find a dry spot in the quarters she’d been given. It was an old building and the roof was leaking in several places. Mugs and buckets were scattered about the floor in order to catch the drips.

  Mr Mani had dug up all his potatoes and presented them to the friends and neighbours who had given him lunches and dinners. He was having the time of his life, planting dahlia bulbs all over his garden.

  ‘I’ll have a field of many-coloured dahlias!’ he announced. ‘Just wait till the end of August!’

  ‘Watch out for those porcupines,’ warned his sister. ‘They eat dahlia bulbs too!’

  Mr Mani made an inspection tour of his moat, no longer in flood, and found everything in good order. Prakash had done his job well.

  Now, when the children crossed the stream, they found that the water level had risen by about a foot. Small cascades had turned into waterfalls. Ferns had sprung up on the banks. Frogs chanted.

  Prakash and his dog dashed across the stream. Bina and Sonu followed more cautiously. The current was much stronger now and the water was almost up to their knees. Once they had crossed the stream, they hurried along the path, anxious not to be caught in a sudden downpour.

  By the time they reached school, each of them had two or three leeches clinging to their legs. They had to use salt to remove them. The leeches were the most troublesome part of the rainy season. Even the leopard did not like them. It could not lie in the long grass without getting leeches on its paws and face.

  One day, when Bina, Prakash and Sonu were about to cross the stream they heard a low rumble, which grew louder every second. Looking up at the opposite hill, they saw several trees shudder, tilt outwards and begin to fall. Earth and rocks bulged out from the mountain, then came crashing down into the ravine.

  ‘Landslide!’ shouted Sonu.

  ‘It’s carried away the path,’ said Bina. ‘Don’t go any further.’

  There was a tremendous roar as more rocks, trees and bushes fell away and crashed down the hillside.

  Prakash’s dog, who had gone ahead, came running back, tail between his legs.

  They remained rooted to the spot until the rocks had stopped falling and the dust had settled. Birds circled the area, calling wildly. A frightened barking deer ran past them.

  ‘We can’t go to school now,’ said Prakash. ‘There’s no way around.’

  They turned and trudged home through the gathering mist.

  In Koli, Prakash’s parents had heard the roar of the landslide. They were setting out in search of the children when they saw them emerge from the mist, waving cheerfully.

  IX

  They had to miss school for another three days, and Bina was afraid they might not be able to take their final exams. Although Prakash was not really troubled at the thought of missing exams, he did not like feeling helpless just because their path had been swept away. So he explored the hillside until he found a goat-track going around the mountain. It joined up with another path near Nauti. This made their walk longer by a mile, but Bina did not mind. It was much cooler now that the rains were in full swing.

  The only trouble with the new route was that it passed close to the leopard’s lair. The animal had made this area its own since being forced to leave the dam area.

  One day Prakash’s dog ran ahead of them barking furiously. Then he ran back whimpering.

  ‘He’s always running away from something,’ observed Sonu. But a minute later he understood the reason for the dog’s fear.

  They rounded a bend and Sonu saw the leopard standing in their way. They were struck dumb—too terrified to run. It was a strong, sinewy creature. A low growl rose from its throat. It seemed ready to spring.

  They stood perfectly still, afraid to move or say a word. And the leopard must have been equally surprised. It stared at them for a few seconds, then bounded across the path and into the oak forest.

  Sonu was shaking. Bina could hear her heart hammering. Prakash could only stammer: ‘Did you see the way he sprang? Wasn’t he beautiful?’

  He forgot to look at his watch for the rest of the day.

  A few days later, Sonu stopped and pointed to a large outcrop of rock on the next hill.

  The leopard stood far above them, outlined against the sky. It looked strong, majestic. Standing beside it were two young cubs.

  ‘Look at those little ones!’ exclaimed Sonu.

  ‘So it’s a female, not a male,’ said Prakash.

  ‘That’s why she was killing so often,’ said Bina. ‘She had to feed her cubs too.’

  They remained still for several minutes, gazing up at the leopard and her cubs. The leopard family took no notice of them.

  ‘She knows we are here,’ said Prakash, ‘but she doesn’t care. She knows we won’t harm them.’

  ‘We are cubs too!’ said Sonu.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bina. ‘And there’s still plenty of space for all of us. Even when the dam is ready there will still be room for leopards and humans.’

  X

  The school exams were over. The rains were nearly over too. The landslide had been cleared, and Bina, Prakash and Sonu were once again crossing the stream.

  There was a chill in the air, for it was the end of September.

  Prakash had learnt to play the flute quite well, and he played on the way to school and then again on the way home. As a result he did not look at his watch so often. One morning they found a small crowd in front of Mr Mani’s house.

  ‘What could have happened?’ wondered Bina. ‘I hope he hasn’t got lost again.’

  ‘Maybe he’s sick,’ said Sonu.

  ‘Maybe it’s the porcupines,’ said Prakash.

  But it was none of these things.

  Mr Mani’s first dahlia was in bloom, and half the village had turned up to look at it! It was a huge red double dahlia, so heavy that it had to be supported with sticks. No one had ever seen such a magnificent flower!

  Mr Mani was a happy man. And his mood only improved over the coming week, as more and more dahlias flowered—crimson, yellow, purple, mauve, white—button dahlias, pom-pom dahlias, spotted dahlias, striped dahlias… Mr Mani had them all! A dahlia even turned up on Tania Ramola’s desk—he got along quite well with her now—and another brightened up the Headmaster’s study.

  A week later, on their way home—it was almost the last day of the school term—Bina, Prakash and Sonu talked about what they might do when they grew up.

  ‘I think I’ll become a teacher,’ said Bina. ‘I’ll teach children about animals and birds, and trees and flowers.’

  ‘Better than maths!’ said Prakash.

  ‘I’ll be a pilot,’ said Sonu. ‘I want to fly a plane like Miss Ramola’s brother.’

  ‘And what about you, Prakash?’ asked Bina.

  Prakash just smiled and said, ‘Maybe I’ll be a flute player,’ and he put the flute to his lips and played a sweet melody.

  ‘Well, the world needs flute players too,’ said Bina, as they fell into step beside him.

  The leopard had been stalking a barking deer. She paused when she heard the flute and the voices of the children. Her own young ones were growi
ng quickly, but the girl and the two boys did not look much older.

  They had started singing their favourite song again.

  Five more miles to go!

  We climb through rain and snow,

  A river to cross…

  A mountain to pass…

  Now we’ve four more miles to go!

  The leopard waited until they had passed, before returning to the trail of the barking deer.

  WHEN GUAVAS ARE RIPE

  Guava trees are easy to climb. And guavas are good to eat. So it’s little wonder that an orchard of guava trees is a popular place with boys and girls.

  Just across the road from Ranji’s house, on the other side of a low wall, was a large guava orchard. The monsoon rains were almost over. It was a warm humid day in September, and the guavas were ripening, turning from green to gold—no longer hard, but growing soft and sweet and juicy.

  The schools were closed because of a religious festival. Ranji’s father was at work. Ranji’s mother was enjoying an afternoon siesta on a cot in the backyard. His grandmother was busy teaching her pet parrot to recite a prayer.

  ‘I feel like getting into those guava trees,’ said Ranji to himself. ‘It’s months since I climbed a tree.’

  He was soon across the road and over the wall and into the trees. He chose a tree that grew in the middle of the orchard, where it was unlikely that he would be disturbed, then he climbed swiftly into its branches. A cluster of guavas swung just above him. He reached up for one of them, but to his surprise he found himself clutching a small bare foot which had suddenly been thrust through the foliage.

  Having caught the foot, Ranji did not let go. Instead he pulled hard on it. There was a squeal and someone came toppling down on him. Ranji found himself clutching at arms and legs. Together they crashed through a couple of branches and landed with a thud on the soft ground beneath the tree.

  Ranji and the intruder struggled fiercely. They rolled about on the grass. Ranji tried a judo hold—without any success. Then he saw that his opponent was a girl. It was his friend and neighbour, Koki.

  ‘It’s you!’ he gasped.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Koki. ‘And what are you doing here?’

  ‘Get your knee out of my stomach and I’ll tell you.’

  When he recovered his breath, he said, ‘I just felt like climbing a tree.’

  ‘So did I.’

  He stared at her. There was guava juice at the corners of her mouth and on her chin.

  ‘Are the guavas good?’ he asked.

  ‘Quite sweet, in this tree,’ said Koki. ‘You find another tree for yourself, Ranji. There must be thirty or forty trees to choose from.’

  ‘And all going to waste,’ said Ranji. ‘Look, some of the guavas have been spoilt by the birds.’

  ‘Nobody wants them, it seems.’

  Koki climbed back into her tree, and Ranji obligingly walked a little further and climbed another tree. After a few polite exchanges they fell silent, their attention given over entirely to the eating of guavas.

  ‘I’ve eaten five,’ said Koki after some time.

  ‘You’d better stop.’

  ‘You’re only saying that because you’ve just started.’

  ‘Well, three’s enough for me.’

  ‘I’m getting a tummy ache, I think.’

  ‘I warned you. Come on, I’ll take you home. We can come back tomorrow. There are still lots of guavas left. Hundreds!’

  ‘I don’t think I want to eat any more,’ said Koki.

  She felt better the next day—so well, in fact, that Ranji found her leaning on the gate, waiting for him to join her. She was accompanied by her small brother, Teju, who was only six and very mischievous.

  ‘How are you feeling today?’ asked Ranji.

  ‘Hungry,’ said Koki.

  ‘Why did you bring your brother?’

  ‘He wants to start climbing trees.’

  Soon they were in the orchard. Ranji and Koki helped Teju into the branches of one of the smaller trees and then made for other trees, disturbing a party of parrots who flew in circles around the orchard, screaming their protests.

  Two boys and a girl talking to each other from three different trees can make quite a lot of noise, and it wasn’t only the birds who were disturbed. Though they did not know it, the orchard belonged to a wealthy property dealer and he employed a watchman, whose duty was to keep away birds, children, monkeys, flying foxes and other fruit-eating pests. But on a hot, sultry afternoon Gopal, the watchman, could not resist taking a nap. He was stretched out under a shady jackfruit tree, snoring so loudly that the flies that had been buzzing around him felt that a storm was brewing and kept their distance.

  He woke to the sound of voices raised high in glee. Sitting up, he brushed a ladybird from his long moustache, then seized his lathi.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he shouted, struggling to his feet.

  There was a sudden silence in the trees.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he called again.

  No answer.

  ‘I must have been dreaming,’ he muttered, and was preparing to lie down and take another nap when Teju, who had been watching him, burst into laughter.

  ‘Ho!’ shouted the watchman, coming to life again.

  ‘Thieves! I’ll settle you!’ And he began striding towards the centre of the orchard, boasting all the time of his physical prowess. ‘I am not afraid of thieves, bandits, or wild beasts! I’ll have you know that I was once the wrestling champion of an entire district of Dehra. Come on out and fight me if you dare!’

  ‘Run!’ hissed Koki, scrambling down her tree.

  ‘Run!’ shouted Ranji, as though it were a cricket match.

  Teju was so startled by the sudden activity that he tumbled out of his tree and began crying, and Ranji and Koki had to go to his aid.

  The sight of an enormous ex-wrestler bearing down on them was enough to make Teju stop crying and get to his feet. Then all three were fleeing across the grove, the watchman a little way behind them, waving his lathi and shouting at the top of his voice. Although he was an ex-wrestler (or perhaps because of it) he could not run very fast, and was still huffing and puffing some twenty metres behind them when they climbed up and over the wall. He could not climb walls either.

  They ran off in different directions before returning home.

  The next day, Ranji met Koki and Teju at the far end of the road. ‘Is he there?’ asked Koki.

  ‘I haven’t seen him. But he must be around somewhere.’

  ‘Maybe he’s gone for his lunch. We’ll just walk past and take a quick look.’

  The three of them strolled casually down the road. Koki said the gardens were looking very pretty. Teju gazed admiringly at a boy flying a kite from a rooftop. Ranji kept one eye on the road and one eye on the orchard wall. A squirrel ran along the top of the wall; the parrots were back in the guava trees.

  They moved closer to the wall. Ranji leaned casually against it and Koki began to pick little daisies growing at the edge of the road. Teju, unable to hide his curiosity, pulled himself up on the wall and looked over. At the same time Gopal, the watchman, who had been hiding behind the wall waiting for them, stood up slowly and glared fiercely at Teju.

  Teju gulped, but he did not flinch. He was looking straight into the watchman’s red angry eyes.

  ‘And what can I do for you?’ said Gopal.

  ‘I was just looking,’ said Teju.

  ‘At what?’

  ‘At the view.’

  Gopal was a little baffled. They looked just like the children he’d chased away yesterday, but he couldn’t be sure. They didn’t look guilty. But did children ever look guilty?

  ‘There’s a better view from the other side of the road,’ he said gruffly. ‘Now be off!’

  ‘What lovely guavas,’ said Koki, smiling sweetly. There weren’t many people who could resist that smile!

  ‘True,’ said Ranji, with the air of one who was an expert on guavas and all things g
ood to eat. ‘They are just the right size and colour. I don’t think I’ve seen better. But they’ll be spoilt by the birds if you don’t gather them soon.’

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ said the watchman.

  ‘Just look at his muscles,’ said Teju, trying a different approach. ‘He’s really strong!’

  Gopal looked pleased for once. He was proud of his former prowess, even though he was now rather flabby around the waist.

  ‘You look like a wrestler,’ said Ranji.

  ‘I am a wrestler,’ said Gopal.

  ‘I told you so,’ said Koki. ‘What else could he be?’

  ‘I’m a retired wrestler,’ said Gopal.

  ‘You don’t look retired,’ said Teju, fast learning that flattery can get you almost anywhere.

  Gopal swelled with pride; such admiration hadn’t come his way for a long time. To Koki he looked like a bullfrog swelling up, but she thought it better not to say so.

  ‘Do you want to see my muscles?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, yes!’ they cried. ‘Do show us!’

  Gopal peeled off his shirt and thumped his chest. It sounded like a drum. They were really impressed. Then he bent his elbow and his biceps stood up like cricket balls.

  ‘You can touch them,’ he said generously.

  Teju poked a finger into Gopal’s biceps.

  ‘Mister Universe!’ he exclaimed.

  Gopal glowed all over. He liked these children. How intelligent they were! Not everyone had the sense to appreciate his strength, his manliness, his magnificent physique!

  ‘Climb over the wall and join me,’ he said. ‘Come sit on the grass and I’ll tell you about the time when I was a wrestling champion.’

  Over the wall they came, and sat politely on the grass. Gopal told them about some of his exploits, how he had vanquished a world-famous wrestler in five seconds flat, and how he had saved a carload of travellers from drowning by single-handedly dragging their car out of a river. They listened patiently. Then Teju mentioned that he was feeling hungry.

  ‘Hungry?’ said Gopal. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before? I’ll bring you some guavas, that’s all there is to eat here. I know which tree has the best ones. And they’re all going to rot if no one eats them—no one’s buying the crop this year, the owner’s price is too high!’