She loves rain. Each time it rains, she wets herself, running outside the yawn, loud. She befriends rain. For, it is her sole company. When rain…
“What if it does not rain, granny?” interrupted Sichkan’s granddaughter, Bichkand.
“Hmm… very fast, Bichhoo,” she referred to Bichkand as Bichho in love. “Then each night, she looks up the sky from the roof of her house and cries. She cannot be without rain… either of drops or of tears.” Granny said calmly taking a deep breathe.
It was a moonlit night. The moon looked very beautiful and bright. Just as granny responded Bichkand, before moving ahead, she looked at the moon, with her eyes opened wide. She looked at it with warmth, and tearful eyes. She was lost in her thoughts, as if her favorite person was in front of her and she was deeply lost in him.
“Why does not she make friends, granny? Like we all have friends, she also can have friends.” Sahkand questioned in surprise, looking straight into her granny’s eyes, expecting a quick reply, while startling granny from her deep imaginations with the moon.
Sichkan chooses silence. Maintains it for a while and, after a hapless sigh, responds, “The village was empty. Only she and her parents lived there.”
“Empty?” all the children said in one tone, looking at each other, dumbstruck. “Where were the other villagers?” Mahkaj questioned.
“They had migrated to the city, fearing unseen ghosts.” Sichkan replied.
“Unseen ghosts? Were there ghosts in the village, granny? Did not the ghosts eat her and her parents?” Bichkand asked, with fear and anxiety in her eyes, looking at granny and Mahkaj simultaneously and in surprise.
“Perhaps there were. They said ghosts had surrounded them and were constantly asking the villagers to leave, but these ghosts never came to her, nor her parents. Or perhaps they did not fear the ghosts – or maybe not more than they loved their village.” Granny said, with a smile, while confusing the children.
“Ghosts are very dangerous and powerful. How can they not fear the ghosts, granny? Ghosts could eat them,” Bichkand said innocently.
Granny loves Bichkand’s innocence and perhaps that was a reason she had showed more love for Bichkand than the others. For it, all the family scoffed granny that she was only Bichkand’s granny. She would only laugh and keep loving Bichkand more and more.
“My love, Bichhoo. Courage is a mental capacity. Ghosts and fear are more a mental activity than physical. And yes, humans are a creature of their own thoughts.”
It went above everyone’s head. Same was the case with Bichkand. She looked at Sahkand and Mahkaj, asking if she grasped what granny was speaking of. They nodded in nope, making Bichkand more confused.
“Granny? Can someone love their village more than their lives or fearing ghosts – that too, as you say, unseen ghosts?” Bichkand asks, looking at Sahkand again if she had put it right. Sahkand looked at granny. Bichkand too.
“My love, not all the ghosts ever tend to hurt you, unless you make a wrong to them,” she said, paused for a while, lost in deep thoughts driving her to a trail of sorrows. All the children were looking at her so eagerly and passionately, waiting for something to hear. She was silent.
“Granny, are you here?” speaks Mahkaj softly just to allow granny move on the way she had been narrating the story of a mysterious girl. Granny smiled, looked at the moon. All the children looked at the same direction to connect to granny’s emotions.
“Granny, what happened next?” Bichkand put, looking at the moon with tearful eyes and lost in the story of a girl she never met – perhaps mirroring herself inside the moon and reliving the girl at the present.
“Bichkand, not every dream shall come true,” granny said in a low, soft tone, with all the kids looking at the moon, dreaming granny’s words – each finding herself in the story yet unbeknownst of their existence and the dream. Each echoing the same words, sharing glances and confused of what to drive of granny.
