India, Gujarat, Dandi

7th April,1930

Brown wasn’t a good match for sober colours.Salt was hard to make those days.Raghu was a common name when I was born, though Malik Sahab(respected sir) liked it.My father wanted me to be known as Nappu but Malik Sahab was a tough nut to crack.He would drink all of the cow’s milk if my name came out to be anything else except Raghu, that’s the threat my father faced.A man too selfless to put his own opinion above the wishes of the young one.

Me coming out as Raghu was the only gift that my father gave me.Being the eldest son in the house I could see Nappu,Dappu and Appu growing up.Nicknames were not common those days but they still managed to pick up a few, specially Appu.Appu was as fat as a Matchstick earning the honor of being called “Mattchis” but we preferred to call him “Triangle” as the word had its origin in the English tongue and matched perfectly with his narrow chin and wide forehead, facilitating a perfect opportunity of using English.Pappu and Dappu were just bullied by the village elders and took an occasional beating for not doing anything.

Although my brothers were well respected around the village but not as much as me and Malik Sahab.Malik Sahab was the ultimate..the supreme..an epic in himself.His works had long surpassed the boundaries of our village.He was eight at the time,almost twice my age.The Gentleman remarked him as “ChinniChor”(small thief) and the ladies called him “Raja Beta”(prince).Malik Sahab called himself “Toofaan”(tornado) ,he used to wrap an orange towel around his neck and made me pretend to be a horse.He loved riding, I loved horses too.Every morning I took him through the village as a horse.I liked being with him, wasn’t used to attention;got used to it, it feels good when someone is there with you to handle it.Villagers acknowledged our presence as “Bhaluu” and “Aaluu”.My father felt proud that I was a help to Malik Sahab.

Sahab lived with his grandparents and his mother used to come only in the seasonal days.He didn’t look happy when she was around.She didn’t allow him to ride too.I remember feeling bad for him when his mother cancelled our ride to Ranjeet’s ,a blacksmith whose wife made dhokla for every person who came by.

Village was getting louder everyday.It felt like there was some kind of festival.My father educated me in the morning by heating up my ears ,I immediately learned my lesson and left for Malik Sahab’s.There were people dressed in whites on the main road.Seeing these people reminded me of my father who was also dressed in white this morning. Rajeent was passing by, I thought I should stop him and ask but he was with his other blacksmith friends so I let him pass.

Moving ahead surprisingly, I found Malik Sahab.He looked happy.He asked me for a ride and I agreed instantly.Bending down I saw a crowd in the distance of the main road.People were scattering slowly.It felt like we missed something.