By Savitri Narayanan
Golu pulled out the water bottle from the cloth bag and took a long sip. He could almost feel the water go down the food-pipe and vanish deep down somewhere.
Leaning back on the kher tree, Golu looked around. Every day this is where he seated himself while his herd wandered in search of food. For them it was familiar territory. The dozen or so sheep roamed as they fed on the plants and bushes that grew around. They were particularly fond of those broad-leafed ones which flowered too and knew exactly where to find them!
When the sun slanted westwards, they stood around waiting for Golu whom they followed. With absolutely no fuss, soon they were back in their corral. Throughout the day there was hardly anything Golu needed to do except keep an eye.
Leaning on the kher tree there, Golu’s mind often wandered.
‘When did I come here,’ the question often came up.
There was no way to know! He had no book, there was no clock, no calendar, no phone and no friend. The whole day Golu was out herding the sheep, and, in the evenings, he went back home. His home was a tin-shed and the sheep’s home was the stable nearby. Water was precious, stored in the large mud pots placed underground. When needed, Golu opened the lid, pulled out the long-handled aluminum mug and filled a bucket.
The only other person whom Golu met was Boss. A plump middle-aged man, he came down once in a few days. Usually, he came late in the evenings. Those days Golu cooked for him too. There was hardly any conversation except the single question, ‘All well with the sheep?’
Golu would eat and go to sleep at his usual time. In the mornings, Boss would still be asleep when Golu left with the sheep. On returning, Boss would be gone!
All these years, Golu’s days followed the same routine. The vast stretch of land was barren. A few cacti grew around adding colour to the land. Far in between grew a tree like ther, khor, ber or a palm, mainly the date palm. The palms grew tall, but the shadows were surprisingly short and small – so small that it couldn’t provide enough shelter for one!
The khejri tree was different. From morning till the time to go home, it provided shade. So, Golu covered his head with a cloth and sat in its shade.
As the day got warmer, something strange would happen. Golu often felt drowsy or started daydreaming. What he saw was strange but fun. There was this little boy playing in a garden with a few other children. They had fun throwing and catching the ball. The boys also shouted and laughed as they chased each other. They called out to each other, but he couldn’t catch the names. Nobody ever called him but somehow he knew that Golu was his name.
Could he have been there, playing with them?
Was he Golu?
Coming to think of it, there was this young woman who affectionately told a young boy things like, ‘Golu, aa jao’ and ‘Golu khaana khaa lo’.
She also combed the boy’s hair and even fondly pinched his cheeks.
Golu didn’t know how to differentiate between facts, memory, imagination, dreams and fantasy but some images repeatedly came up in his mind. A shop with the name ‘Sharma Provision Store’ and in smaller print, ‘Thakurgaon’ written below!
Another recurring image was about what happened one evening while returning home from the playground. There stood little Golu, waiting to cross the road. A car pulled in, a man got out, grabbed the boy, pushed him into the car and drove away!
‘You must be hungry, have this,’ said the man passing on food to the little boy in the backseat. Was it drugged? Was that boy myself?
Was ‘Sharma Provision Store’ Papaji’s shop? The one who oiled and combed the boy’s hair, was it mummyji? Was he kidnapped?
‘Who am I and where exactly am I now?’ The thought often crossed Golu’s mind as he sat under the khejri tree. Who would know? Whom to ask?
Apart from Boss, Golu saw only the sheep.
‘Wish I met other people,’ Golu often thought, ‘Then I could make friends! Where were the people?’
That night many people walked into Golu’s dream! Happy people, dressed in colourful clothes, eating, shopping, riding buses, driving cars – so many people!
‘Where are all these people? How to meet them?’ Golu kept thinking.
Next morning as the sheep grazed Golu too moved on. With the bag on his shoulder, he headed for the road far away. All he carried in the bag was food and water.
The road was empty, and it grew hotter by the minute.
‘What happens if I faint here?’ he thought. ‘Will someone find me? Or will I be dead and gone?’
A truck came by.
Golu wanted a lift but couldn’t even lift his hand. Unexpectedly the truck stopped near him.
‘What’s the matter? Why are you standing here?’
Golu didn’t remember answering but there he was with them, inside the truck!
As they drove on, the two men naturally they got into a conversation with Golu. They took stock of the situation and made up their mind.
“Golu, we’ve just crossed Jaipur, on our way to Delhi,” said the friend, “It seems like you’re lost; we’ll take you to the police station, they are the ones who can help you get back home!”
Golu didn’t really understand fully but in his mind things were slowly falling into place. It was reassuring to be with people who would help him to get back home!
Once in the police station in Delhi, new worlds opened up for Golu! A few policemen dressed in khaki along with the truck driver and friend, sat around discussing and thinking together. To Golu’s utter surprise, words he overheard connected somewhere- – images surfaced from deep in the mind and gained meaning and significance! Kedar Sharma, Thakurgaon Primary School, a sugarcane juice seller with a red turban, a temple from where prayer bells chimed – slowly all these images seemed real!
“Buy a ticket, put him in the train,” the Senior inspector instructed the constable. “There at the station, Golu will be met by the staff of the Dehradun police station.”
The train pulled up to the platform.
“You’re from Thakurgaon, right?” The constable started a conversation as they drove to the police station. “My uncle stays there, and my cousins went to the Govt Primary School there!”
More discussions and questions came up in the Dehradun police station.
‘Remember your father’s name?’
‘What was your mother’s name?’
‘Did you have siblings? What were their names?’
‘How old are you?’
Golu had no answers, he had fallen asleep!
The police inspector rose to the occasion.
“It’s almost two o’clock,” he said, “Let Golu eat and rest here while you spread your network. Walk around Thakurgaon and talk to local people; God willing, before the sun goes down Golu will be home!”
And that is exactly what happened!
Around five o’ clock or so, a small group of villagers walked in.
“Where’s my Golu?” asked the middle-aged woman. For a long moment the two strangers looked at each other, looking for something familiar, known.
“My Golu!” the woman rushed forward, “How tall you’ve grown! Just like papaji!”
Soon things fell into place like a jigsaw puzzle.
A decade and a half ago, the search for the missing boy had gone on for many months with no result. Soon he was written off and forgotten. Golu’s younger sisters grew up and got married. When his father grew sick the provision store had changed hands but the board ‘Sharma Provision Stores’ was still there!
“My Golu is back,” the mother couldn’t contain the joy as she turned to the villagers who stood around. “God is kind, no words are enough to show our gratitude! To share the happiness, we’ll have a special pooja at the temple this Sunday! Do spread the word and come along with your family to partake the prasad!”
Then she turned to her son, “Come Golu, let’s go home!”
(Savitri Narayanan is a retired educationist at present in Goa. A mother and grandmother, loves reading, writing and travelling.)
