Wild(e), (O)scar
I rushed to answer the ringing phone. Mohan was on the other end. “Hi! Didn’t go anywhere this Sunday?”
“No company to go out on trek.”
“Your friend’s back. He even visited me this morning.”
“Oh! I didn’t know.”
“I thought you’d taken my bicycle and gone somewhere.”
“Your bicycle? I didn’t know you’d one.”
“Yeah, someone’s stolen my bicycle.”
I was surprised. This was the first instance of burglary at Dantak.
“Any clues?”
“None.”
Mohan’s dog, Simba, a Labrador, too had vanished without a trace. Now, he had lost his cycle. His family hadn’t yet stopped crying over Simba. Even I – one who didn’t like pets - felt miserable.
The news spread all over Dantak. “Sir, these days the CPL’s have started gambling a lot. They’ve made Col. Harpal’s house their adda (in his absence). In fact, just yesterday night I scolded Arjun”, Adhikari said. “There are too many of these Bhutanese boys coming here to play and there’s no check on them”, someone else said. “The security is lax; the sentries don’t walk around the residential complex during nights”, a lady cooed. Soon police complaint was lodged and men were sent around to locate the missing cycle.
What followed was pathetic. I learnt from Mohan that he had lined up all the Bhutanese boys that come to play basketball in our premises and told them that they’d not be allowed to play anywhere till they found the cycle for him! “How could you do that?” I couldn’t control and blurted. “You don’t find any of these Bhutanese boys roaming around. They rarely move beyond the basketball court”. “Yeah, I know. But, they should know that any behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated.” I just shook my head in exasperation.
That evening as I was sipping coffee I saw two GREF men working furiously on the hoops. “Kya kar rahe ho?” “Sir, we are trying to remove these nets. Too many local kids come here to play”. “Who asked you to do this?” “Sir, Havaldar Major ne bataaya. Some officer must’ve complained”. I could only sulk.
After my evening walk, I ambled into the badminton court and played a couple of games with Mohan, Kuriakose, Kashyap, Ramaswamy and Atul Gupta. We all walked back to Mohan’s house for snacks and tea (it seems this is THE routine among all these badminton players). Their respective ladies too had joined. The topic invariably went to the missing cycle.
“I thought you were serving these snacks and tea ‘coz you’d found the cycle”, Kashyap said.
“No, it’s not yet found.”
“But, today we’ve ensured that no kid was allowed to come inside to play.”
“A sentry was posted below the staircase so that the kids weren’t allowed in”.
I was aghast. “Why did you have to do that? You don’t even know that these kids have stolen?”
“But a message had to be sent across..”
“What message?”
“These kids make a lot of noise. They’re here for too many hours. It’s quite disturbing. Our children don’t even get to play.”
“Who asked your children not to play? In fact these boys would be too happy to get more children to play with them. And, your children definitely would learn to play and become fitter if they played with the local boys.”
“That’s true..”
“But you’d not want them to play with them. Right? And, you want them not to come inside during daytime while the theft happened in the night. You’ve forgotten that you also were children once and you also would play noisily and without any sense of time.” I rambled.
I suddenly remembered the story of Oscar Wilde. The story of a giant who had a beautiful garden where children would come to play. Annoyed with them, the demon shooed the children away. The garden wilted. The giant realized his folly and asked the children to come and play in his garden. The garden bloomed, the birds sang as children played and the giant was happy.
When would our demons and giants realize this?
Epilogue
Just as I finished writing this Mohan called. “Bad news”. “What happened now?” “Simba was found dead behind the Officers’ Mess. Shalini’s inconsolable” he himself was in tears as he said this. “Don’t tell Monty that Simba’s no more” I told as I tried my best to console. A sad episode. The dog was probably poisoned to its death. Another manifestation of demons in us. One more demon to be slayed. One more vanquisher needed. Where does one find them though – vanquishers, not the demons!
“No company to go out on trek.”
“Your friend’s back. He even visited me this morning.”
“Oh! I didn’t know.”
“I thought you’d taken my bicycle and gone somewhere.”
“Your bicycle? I didn’t know you’d one.”
“Yeah, someone’s stolen my bicycle.”
I was surprised. This was the first instance of burglary at Dantak.
“Any clues?”
“None.”
Mohan’s dog, Simba, a Labrador, too had vanished without a trace. Now, he had lost his cycle. His family hadn’t yet stopped crying over Simba. Even I – one who didn’t like pets - felt miserable.
The news spread all over Dantak. “Sir, these days the CPL’s have started gambling a lot. They’ve made Col. Harpal’s house their adda (in his absence). In fact, just yesterday night I scolded Arjun”, Adhikari said. “There are too many of these Bhutanese boys coming here to play and there’s no check on them”, someone else said. “The security is lax; the sentries don’t walk around the residential complex during nights”, a lady cooed. Soon police complaint was lodged and men were sent around to locate the missing cycle.
What followed was pathetic. I learnt from Mohan that he had lined up all the Bhutanese boys that come to play basketball in our premises and told them that they’d not be allowed to play anywhere till they found the cycle for him! “How could you do that?” I couldn’t control and blurted. “You don’t find any of these Bhutanese boys roaming around. They rarely move beyond the basketball court”. “Yeah, I know. But, they should know that any behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated.” I just shook my head in exasperation.
That evening as I was sipping coffee I saw two GREF men working furiously on the hoops. “Kya kar rahe ho?” “Sir, we are trying to remove these nets. Too many local kids come here to play”. “Who asked you to do this?” “Sir, Havaldar Major ne bataaya. Some officer must’ve complained”. I could only sulk.
After my evening walk, I ambled into the badminton court and played a couple of games with Mohan, Kuriakose, Kashyap, Ramaswamy and Atul Gupta. We all walked back to Mohan’s house for snacks and tea (it seems this is THE routine among all these badminton players). Their respective ladies too had joined. The topic invariably went to the missing cycle.
“I thought you were serving these snacks and tea ‘coz you’d found the cycle”, Kashyap said.
“No, it’s not yet found.”
“But, today we’ve ensured that no kid was allowed to come inside to play.”
“A sentry was posted below the staircase so that the kids weren’t allowed in”.
I was aghast. “Why did you have to do that? You don’t even know that these kids have stolen?”
“But a message had to be sent across..”
“What message?”
“These kids make a lot of noise. They’re here for too many hours. It’s quite disturbing. Our children don’t even get to play.”
“Who asked your children not to play? In fact these boys would be too happy to get more children to play with them. And, your children definitely would learn to play and become fitter if they played with the local boys.”
“That’s true..”
“But you’d not want them to play with them. Right? And, you want them not to come inside during daytime while the theft happened in the night. You’ve forgotten that you also were children once and you also would play noisily and without any sense of time.” I rambled.
I suddenly remembered the story of Oscar Wilde. The story of a giant who had a beautiful garden where children would come to play. Annoyed with them, the demon shooed the children away. The garden wilted. The giant realized his folly and asked the children to come and play in his garden. The garden bloomed, the birds sang as children played and the giant was happy.
When would our demons and giants realize this?
Epilogue
Just as I finished writing this Mohan called. “Bad news”. “What happened now?” “Simba was found dead behind the Officers’ Mess. Shalini’s inconsolable” he himself was in tears as he said this. “Don’t tell Monty that Simba’s no more” I told as I tried my best to console. A sad episode. The dog was probably poisoned to its death. Another manifestation of demons in us. One more demon to be slayed. One more vanquisher needed. Where does one find them though – vanquishers, not the demons!
posted by Quintessential Critic (Sudhir Narayana) @ 1:13 PM
2 comments
2 Comments:
hey i loved this ...i have battled with the same prejudices while setting my organisation for children. i remmber at one volunteer meet i blew my top off with this woman who was shamelessly discriminating children based on economic strata.
we not just forget our childhood but dutifully nurture our children to become demons of the future.
Thanx 4 ur sense of social responsibility, Su.....it is not enough if we train our children 2 be sophisticated... we need 2 train them to rise above pettiness which is so ubiquitous...if we or our kids were 2 resist the strong current of elitism or snobbery, the counter current of humanism has 2 b stronger in each of us....
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