Moonrise from the Green Grass Roof

by Vinod Kumar Shukla

  In the meantime, Bhaira had begun thinking about a handhold and foothold in the pit. He estimated where he would place his hand and foot, and picked out a sharp-pointed stone from the pile nearby. He started scooping out dirt close to the muram steps with the idea that once he heaved himself up he could use the intact steps to climb out. Then it occurred him that he could gather stones into a new pile and reach the intact steps from the top of the pile. How clever he was! He heaped stones to make a new pile and levelled the top to make a platform. He dug out a handhold. The steps in the muram wall were to his left. He stood on the pile, a hand resting in the handhold, and leapt to the intact step above. The step collapsed while he steadied himself. But he was already on the next step by then. As he stepped out of the pit, he heard the steps he had just climbed on sliding and crashing below.

  He was a bird let out of a cage. A newly freed bird wants to fly in any direction available, east or west. The farther it flies the more it believes in its freedom. Freedom means freedom only if it is total. A little freedom means nothing. It’s like going from a small cage to a larger cage. Full freedom is no less than the entire sky. Bhaira was free in the entire world, but his immediate goal was the school. He glanced at the sky as he hurried to the school.

  The moon, too, had been freed from the pit. It had returned to the unlimited sky, and hurried to the school along with Bhaira. Meanwhile, a moon moved with Bolu and Koona and their friends in the opposite direction, hurrying with them to find Bhaira. It was the same moon, and it shone more radiantly as all the friends came together.

  Bhaira was thrilled to see his friends. They turned back towards the school.

  The happiness did not last. ‘What happened to my bedroll?’ Bhaira asked. He stopped and all his friends stopped.

  ‘We can pull it out in the morning,’ Chhotu said in Bhaira’s voice.

  ‘No. Let’s get it out now,’ Bhaira spoke in his own voice.

  ‘Tomorrow happens to be a vacation day,’ Chhotu said in Bolu’s voice.

  ‘Is there something wrong with pulling the bedroll out on a vacation day?’ Koona asked.

  ‘It’s easy to get the bedroll out on a vacation day. There’s a problem only on school days,’ Premu said. He was in favour of retrieving the bedroll right then.

  ‘Let’s get his bedroll now. It will give him a good night’s rest,’ Koona said.

  The watchman rang the school gong ten times.

  ‘How late it is,’ Bolu said, advancing a few paces towards the pit.

  Koona lifted her hand to the moon. ‘Hold on to my finger,’ she said to the moon. ‘Don’t go wandering off.’ Bolu was mumbling to himself and walking ahead. Koona followed behind.

  The moon’s light or an electric bulb suffices to indicate it’s night. To tell day there’s only daylight.

  The moon let go of Koona’s finger. It went behind clouds.

  Koona lowered her hand. She reprimanded the moon. ‘Now you’ve gone and fallen into the pit. You need to be more careful.’

  The cloud was a piece of darkness the moon should have been careful to avoid.

  They arrived at the pit. Bhaira peered in and reported that the bedroll was gone. Someone else must have found it first.

  The others looked into the pit. No bedroll.

  Bhaira was trying to figure out what to do next when Chhotu spoke in Bhaira’s voice: ‘What shall we do now?’

  Bhaira stayed quiet.

  Chhotu said in Bhaira’s voice: ‘I’ll get yelled at by Bajrang Maharaj.’

  Everyone moved closer to Bhaira. He nodded his head. ‘That’s true,’ he said.

  ‘Who could have made away with the bedroll?’ Bhaira wondered.

  Chhotu spoke in Bhaira’s voice: ‘The snack-maker must have picked up the bedroll.’

  ‘In that case, there’s nothing to worry about,’ Bhaira’s friends said.

  They all turned back towards the school.

  The children at the school had kept a lookout for Bolu and his friends; they wanted to play together before going to sleep. Some mumbling could be heard from where the children lay, but they were more asleep than awake. One of them might wake up and ask a question, and fall back to sleep before receiving an answer. Two friends might be talking. One of them would drift into sleep and the other fall asleep at the same time. A child might say, ‘Bolu must be on his way here. Let me go out and see,’ and roll over on his side, already asleep. The other child might say, ‘If he’s back, he must be sleeping. If he’s not back, I’ll stay awake and let you know when he gets here.’ Then the other child would also drop off to sleep.

  The first child would sit up. ‘Let’s go find Bolu,’ he would say and fall asleep sitting up.

  The other child would awaken and see his friend sitting up, ‘Why did you go to see Bolu without telling me?’ He would shake his friend. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  The first child would open his eyes, ‘I told you Bolu must be awake. He must be getting things ready for tomorrow. Let me sleep.’ He would fall back asleep sitting up.

  Eventually everyone fell asleep. The snores of the elders made the silence audible.

  Bolu and his friends walked noisily. They neared the Bajrang Snack Shop on their way to the school. Premu thought he heard a growl coming from the shop. ‘There’s a tiger in there,’ Premu exclaimed. Bhaira paid no attention.

  ‘It sounds like a tiger,’ Koona said, and ran to where Bolu walked ahead.

  She slipped her hand in his. A low growling continued intermittently, as if the tiger had felled its prey and was resting before dinner. The others were alarmed at the sounds, but Bolu and Bhaira showed no fear.

  Whom could the tiger have preyed on at the snack shop? Knocking Bajrang Maharaj down was out of the question. Nor could the tiger have gotten in past Bajrang Maharaj’s wary eye. It must be that Bajrang Maharaj had gone out and the tiger had attacked the snack-maker.

  ‘The tiger must have known Bajrang Maharaj was out,’ Bolu said loudly, walking ahead once more. The others quickened their pace to catch up. Bolu hopped forward with each word he uttered: ‘The–tiger–must–have–attacked–the–snack!’ He laughed and took hold of Bhaira’s hand, half-dragging him as they walked together. ‘First the tiger captures its prey, then it makes a meal of the prey.’

  ‘It must have been hiding behind a rock near the stove. The tiger would have entered just as the snack-maker tilted the hot snacks into the serving dish. The customers would have fled in fear. The tiger would have pounced on the snacks. When it lifted its paw there would be pieces of potato dipped in batter in each claw. The tiger would raise the paw to its mouth.’ It was like a customer eating snacks with a fork.

  ‘Listen, Bhaira,’ Bolu said, ‘and don’t pretend you can’t hear. Can you still make out growling sounds from the shop?’ He took hold of Bhaira’s hand again.

  ‘I don’t hear any sounds,’ Bhaira declared.

  ‘Then what do you hear?’ the others asked him. They stopped walking and stood around Bhaira. Bolu had released his hold on Bhaira. He stood a few paces away from the group.

  Bhaira moved towards Bolu. ‘The sound is my father snoring.’

  ‘Could it be a tiger snoring?’ Koona asked anxiously.

  ‘What’s there to fear if the tiger is asleep?’ Binu spoke in a whisper so as not to wake the tiger.

  ‘Don’t be afraid. It’s just my father snoring.’ Bhaira whispered as well, not out of fear the tiger would wake up, but out of fear his father would.

  ‘It’s not morning yet,’ Bolu said.

  His friends nodded agreement. ‘It’s not morning yet.’

  Bolu began to sing:

  We’ll look for Morning

  In the forest

  On vacation day.

  Wake up, wake up Bajrang Maharaj

  And ask him please to say

  ‘Tea and snacks for Morning!’

  Keep Morning busy at play.

  We won’t let Morning leave us

  Find it a
place to stay

  We’ll follow the new rule

  Enroll it in our school.

  The friends resumed their walk to school. Through his nostrils widened from snoring, Bajrang Maharaj was able to smell Bhaira’s presence. The snoring ceased. The children were startled by the cessation of noise. ‘BHAIRA!’ Bajrang Maharaj called out. This ‘BHAIRA!’ even the deaf would have heard. ‘Have you come for your bedroll? It’s on the table in the verandah.’ There was an answering roar from the forest. Then the growling resumed.

  ‘He must have gone to sleep,’ the friends thought.

  ‘Yes, my father is snoring now,’ Bhaira said.

  ‘You might as well pick up your bedroll,’ Bolu suggested, walking towards the snack shop as he spoke.

  The snoring sounded louder with each step they took towards the shop. They walked cautiously, pausing at the base of the verandah. Bhaira climbed up alone. It was dark but Bhaira could make out something on the table folded in extra layers of darkness. He slipped it under his arm.

  ‘Are you leaving?’ Bajrang Maharaj asked.

  Bhaira hurried down the steps. He knew that his father could wake up in an instant if that is what he wanted to do.

  Their walk was more like running. Koona noticed the moon stealing a look from behind a cloud.

  ‘There’s no tiger in there,’ she said.

  The moon came out reassured.

  ‘You were afraid, weren’t you?’ Koona said to the moon.

  Bolu walked ahead humming to himself.

  Everyone was asleep at the school. Bolu’s mother had made room for him before she fell asleep. He went and lay next to her.

  Koona’s mother slept nearby. She, too, had made room for her child. Koona curled in there and fell asleep instantly.

  She had a dream. It may have been her first dream. She may have seen dreams earlier and forgotten them by morning. This, too, may be a dream she would forget and claim she never dreamt, and ask her friends to please teach her how to dream, or at least how to view their dreams.

  She saw that Bolu called her by name but she pretended not to hear. Then she saw a girl, who looked like Koona when she saw herself in the mirror, walking towards Bolu in response to his call. The girl walked towards Bolu, just as Koona walked when she saw herself walking in a mirror. The girl went and stood next to Bolu, who was also visible in the mirror. While Koona slept, she saw the mirror Koona atop the pygmy mountain. There was Bolu there, and Premu, Bhaira and Binu. She asked the mirror Koona if she knew where Chhotu might be. The mirror Koona ignored the question and walked over to the mouth of the hole where all her friends were.

  ‘Let’s make a rope of us strung together,’ the mirror Koona said, ‘and get down to the bottom using ourselves. Bhaira weighs the most among us. He’ll lie down by the hole and support us as we go down. The first person on the rope will be the one who is lightest.’

  Koona could see that Bolu took hold of mirror Koona’s hand. Bolu lay down at the mouth of the hole and mirror Koona dangled in the hole. Chhotu kept a good hold on Bolu’s feet. Bolu let Koona’s weight pull him towards the hole while Koona dangled down another few inches. Chhotu lay down next, maintaining his grip on Bolu’s feet. Binu took hold of Chhotu’s feet while Chhotu slipped into the hole. Premu took hold of Binu’s feet. Bhaira took hold of Premu’s feet.

  ‘You can edge into the hole now,’ Bhaira said to Premu. Bhaira lay belly down at the mouth of the hole, balancing the weight of the human rope.

  Koona said nothing while she hung suspended the deepest in the hole. It was hard to guess what she could view.

  ‘Can you see anything?’ Bolu asked her.

  Koona was the only one with her head up. The others were hanging upside down.

  Bolu’s feet moved as if he was walking. Chhotu spoke to Bolu in Bhaira’s voice: ‘Don’t say anything. Otherwise, we won’t be able to hold on to your feet.’ The entire rope had trembled when Bolu spoke to Koona. Koona saved herself from hitting the wall. ‘I can see a beehive,’ she said with effort. ‘Please don’t speak, Bolu. I don’t want to knock against the hive.’

  Chhotu heard what she said. He repeated in Koona’s voice, ‘I can see a beehive.’ The ones above Chhotu thought they heard Koona speaking directly. Bhaira didn’t pretend not to hear. He paid full attention.

  ‘There are no bees in the beehive,’ Koona added.

  Chhotu repeated the message in Koona’s voice.

  The message pleased Bhaira. He crept forward a little. He wanted to see the beehive for himself.

  Bolu could see the beehive, but said nothing.

  Chhotu’s arms were hurting from carrying the weight of Bolu and Koona. He didn’t know in whose voice he should say that his arms were hurting so his friends knew he was talking about himself. ‘I am Chhotu,’ he said to Binu. ‘I am speaking in Bolu’s voice. My arms are hurting. I won’t be able to bear the weight of Bolu and Koona much longer. Please ask Premu to pull us up.’

  Binu’s arms were also hurting. ‘Please ask Bhaira to pull us up,’ he said to Premu. ‘Our arms are hurting.’

  ‘I’ll pull us up,’ Bhaira said when Premu relayed Binu’s message.

  The ground was uneven behind where Bhaira lay. It was hard for him to snake backwards against the weight of the others. ‘It’s hard to manage,’ he said to Premu.

  Premu relayed the message to Binu, Binu to Chhotu, Chhotu, between sobs, to Bolu. ‘Don’t say anything about this, Bolu.’

  Small stones dug into Bhaira’s arms. Premu’s nose got skinned as he crawled out. He was holding Binu’s feet with all his might. Bhaira helped Premu pull Binu up. They all came out of the hole except Koona, who still wanted to discover what lay below. She let go of Bolu’s hand, but Bolu held on to her. She awoke just then, leaving the dream behind in her sleep. She retained no memory of the dream.

  The children in the school had been dreaming. ‘We saw dreams!’ they shouted. ‘I’ve never seen one,’ Koona said. ‘Let me see your dream. Please.’

  The vacation day had begun. People woke up late; they must have been caught up in morning dreams. Bolu remembered what he dreamt. He dreamt he was walking silently. The sound of his own voice reached him from far away.

  When Bolu narrated his dream, Chhotu said it must have been him speaking in Bolu’s voice. ‘Bolu was able to walk without speaking because I supplied his voice,’ Chhotu said in Bolu’s voice.

  But Bolu didn’t start walking. He stood there yawning.

  ‘You were talking so loudly in your dream, Bolu could hear it in his,’ Premu said.

  ‘I slept next to Chhotu. Why couldn’t I hear him in my dream?’ Binu wondered.

  ‘You were some distance from where Bolu slept. Chhotu was talking in Bolu’s voice. If Chhotu had been speaking in his own voice you would have heard him,’ Premu replied.

  ‘Let’s wake Bhaira up,’ Bolu said, walking towards where Bhaira lay sleeping.

  ‘It won’t be easy for him to get up. He’s tired,’ Koona said.

  ‘Why is he tired?’ Bolu wondered.

  The friends walked along with Bolu and Koona, listening to their conversation. The school grounds had emptied of mothers, grandfathers, grandmothers, uncles, cows and calves. Koona’s pony wasn’t there either.

  All these guests left when it was morning. They had made the school feel like home.

  Now it was school again. The teachers got busy with their tasks. A teacher was heading to an empty classroom. He thought Koona wanted to ask him something and stopped for her, but she didn’t say anything. ‘Nice dreams come true,’ he said to her. He was gone from the verandah before she could tell him she had never had a dream.

  The children woke up late even though they had wanted to wake up early. In the meantime, the previous night had been added to their vacation day, including its morning dreams. Dreaming was indeed a kind of experience. In dreams, a non-swimmer could experience swimming across the sea. Awake, the non-swimmer would drown in a ditch.

  Everyone w
as talking at the same time. Bolu would stop while he listened, walk while he spoke. The others walked and stopped as he did. Their random movement and their colourful clothes made them look like a centipede with bright markings.

  Koona wore a red skirt and an orange top. Bolu wore brown shorts and a dark maroon shirt, his skin colour blending with the colour of his clothes. Premu wore khaki shorts and a printed shirt. Binu wore white cotton pajamas and a maroon shirt darker than Bolu’s. Chhotu’s shorts were a dark navy, easily mistaken for black. His shirt was iridescent, one colour in the sun, another in the shade—indefinite like his voice. The indefiniteness might extend over time to his appearance as well. His appearance might change as he grew older. At first he would appear to be Chhotu. Then he would appear to be like Chhotu. Then he would become quite different. He would come to meet his friends and say, ‘I’m Chhotu.’ His friends would recognize him because he spoke in Koona’s voice. What if he used a voice unfamiliar to his friends?

  Bhaira slumbered, arms crossed over the chest, cap in his hands. He held on to the cap even in sleep.

  When he had lain down to sleep, he was thinking about how he had told his father everyone was expected to be present for vacation day school. Mothers and fathers were expected to be present. Grandmothers, grandfathers, lions, tigers, wolves, and bears were expected to be present. He hadn’t planned on mentioning forest animals. He hoped his father would come, but without bringing along the animals Bhaira had spoken of inadvertently. He had looked around before he fell asleep; his father hadn’t arrived.

  Bhaira lay with his eyes shut, seeing images in his mind. Then he dropped into real dreaming.

  He saw that the others were sleeping; he was the only one awake. The moon was sometimes bright, sometimes dark. His friends had abandoned him. He was looking for his father. Students were asleep in each of the classrooms. The moon vanished behind clouds as soon as he came out to the verandah. The bulb went out. As suddenly as it had turned dark, it grew light again. The moon escaped from clouds. The bulb came on. The moon disappeared behind clouds. The bulb went out. How can moon and light bulb work simultaneously? Bhaira wondered.