He just came back from school. Saraf. He has a good name though - Sk. Sarfaraz Khan. But apart from his teachers nobody knows him in that name. All call him Saru, Haraf, Raf and a lot. Some names are distorted to make fun of him, and some are to adore him. He is adorable. A little kid of six. Very energetic. Not so talkative but like a sponge. Wants to soak all what he see what he hear. Most of the time unmindful.
- “Just now you are back, and where are you going again...?.Wait, wait..At Least open the shirt and wear your half sweater. Ya Allah...Don’t ever listen to me...”. Lamented his mother while breaking the pulses. Mostly Saraf is very interested to see his mom breaking pulse. It is very primitive way of taking out the black skins from the golden pulses. Two round-shaped heavy stones are put together, on top of each other, with a stick as the axis. Pour the pulse inside and rotate the upper stone mildly. You have to be careful. If you rotate more, the pulse will be broken.
-”Grrrrrr.....rrrrrrrr”. His mother starts rotating the crasher after pouring in two fist of pulses
Their is a poor family. They can not afford to get the pulses done from the mill. Yes, I can say it a poor family.Having six kids and no fixed income, of course its poor. Its just because the education is free from government, all kids got more or less education. Saraf’s mom wake up before Fajr prayer.And quickly sleeps too. Once her Isha prayer is done she start requesting all siblings to have dinner as she feel so sleepy after the whole day's hard work. All the siblings take their food and eat together. I think it is a good rule. All will be present and if there is any important announcement to make;Saraf’s father will make that.
Saraf picked up the dirty sack and a small iron rod from their penthouse and rushed towards the dokhin-math.( Fields towards the south side of the village. Dokhin means South ). He likes this weather. He likes this time;just after coming back from school at afternoon. It was a winter afternoon and the fields starts getting empty after the farmer took away the paddy. But where is he going with the ragged sack and the rod? To rob somebody hitting by that bar?
He took the canal road.At british time, government digged this canal starting from Durgapur for irrigation purpose. Saraf don’t know where it ends. He tried cycling to find out once but could not. How far a kid can go by cycling and that also half -pedalling ( The kids or a person who are not tall enough and their leg can not reach to the pedal they hold the sit, hangs on one side of the cycle and paddle it through the triangle frame. That is called half-pedal ). The road is dusty and bullock cart are coming in a convoy. All carts are coming back from field with heaps of golden paddy.He does not like the dust in winter. It makes his legs and hands so dull and itchy. And the skin becomes so rough that he can write his name on his dull hand using his own nail!
He crossed the narrow bridge on the canal towards the dakhin-math carefully. This bridge is almost broken and very dangerous in rainy season when Durgapur barrage drains more water. Saraf feel very frightened to cross it that time;it becomes slippery and the railing is also broken in most of the places. The water fall from very high sluice gate; roaring sound of falling water can be heard from far also and it creates a mist which sometimes makes the crossing more tricky due to invisibility. Thankfully it is winter and the flow of water is very less.
He lets the sole farmer carrying big heaps of healthy stalk of paddy on their head on the bridge leaning against the sole railing which is unbroken.The sun is getting more gentle now; more or less like a tomato - top portion is not so ripe - yellowish and down is fully ripe - red. Quite hazy late afternoon;it is hazy due to the paddy thrashing all over the village. Quite eventful time for a small village where main earning is cultivation.
Saraf reached almost to his destination. Most of the fields are empty. Only a few, mostly owned by not so rich people, are having crops still. Because they do not have enough money or manpower to cut the paddy. Saraf walked though the residue straw after the paddy is cut very carefully. Those straw are very sharp and you may bleed if you stomp on them unknowingly. He found a hole at the corner of the field, hidden almost in the aal ( Aal is the divider between two fields. Through AAL you can go deep inside the paddy fields without going inside the field).
- “Got it. It should must have something inside”. Saraf whispers to himself and starts digging it furiously with his small iron bar.
It is actually a rice-field rat’s burrow. In this winter time the rat cuts the paddy in the burrow and store it. The tribal laborer who migrate to their village love to catch these rats. They eat those burning in fire. The tribal males play the flute while the women cooks. The rats do their stealing business at night and dusk. Saraf is not doing bad. He is just stealing the thieves; that’s it.
- “Man, it should must have more that 2 kg, the burrow is so long”. Saraf kept digging and then finally he reached the end.
He was smiling, beaming from ear to ear.If somebody see him now, they will must misunderstand that Saraf might have got some buried gold or some hidden treasure after the big digging work. Saraf poured all the paddy is his sack.
It started becoming dark now.Magrib Azan can be heard from the sole mosque of the village. Saraf is walking faster. He will have to reach the village and sell his stock and then return back home before his father come back.
When he reached home, he peeped from the back door of the house and stand still for some time to hear inside home. All the ladies are gossiping inside and seems the nearby aunty came. His mom is sipping tea with the aunty. It the tradition of the village to offer tea and fried rice if any guests come in home. He felt relief as his father still did not come.
-”Ma, see what I bought for you”. Saraf took out the bunch of betel-nut leaves he bought from the money he earned selling his stock. He also bought two post-card pictures of his favourite player and 10 candies.
-”Where did you get money?.. Hmm, Again you went to paddy field” . His mother felt soft inside seeing his son’s choice; betel-nut leaves. She is a nice kid and always wants her attention and affection. This kid is her last one among the six offspring and due to the work-load of such a huge family she don't get enough time to treat him well.
-”Go and wash your legs and hands quickly, your father may come anytime”. She hurried Saraf and started gossiping again with the aunty.
-”What happened to your hand? Seems you got burnt”. She asked her.
-”Oh my poor memory!. I forgot that. I came to your home to ask for some borolene. Today while frying curry, the hot oils spills”. The aunty pat on her forehead to shake out her forgetfulness.
-”So sad, we don’t have borolene anymore. Two days before it finished. You know,its winter time and kids apply it on their dry skin”.Saraf mother made some excuse.
The borolene is a kind of age-old ointment. You can apply it on burn, on cut,on pimple, on dry skin. It can be used on so many purposes. Most of the rich family in village will must have it and a poor family like Saraf’s one will have it as a luxury.
-”No ma, I know it is there in the black drawer.”Saraf replied while putting the candies aside color-by-color.Three green, two red, three purple and one yellow. The red one he already ate one way back home.
-“That one in the drawer finished Saraf.”.His mom tried to save her face desparetely from the aunty. Actually,she don't intend to give away that borolene to that aunty.She knows,with the meagre income, her husband will not buy another borolene so easily.
-“No, no. It is not finished.Remember,You were putting that on your hand today noon? Right?. Wait, I am bringing.” Saraf left his candies aside to rush inside home and come back with the borolene.
It is becoming dark now.The aunty left a while before.Saraf is stading under the guava tree in the corner on their home yard. He is trying to beat the biting mosquitoes on his leg using his feet. His candies are scattered on the yard.Those got scattered when his mother hit him on his cheek. He did not understand why he got beaten.He can see the green candies near the broom, under the hen-cage the red and the purple candies. The yellow one he can not find.He can hear some buzzing sound in his ear.It might be due to mosquito or might be due to the hard slap his mother gave on his right cheek. Saraf promised in his mind that next time, when he will sell his rat paddy stock, he will buy a new borolene for his mom.
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