The subscription

The orange sky bid adieu to the crimson Sun as it painfully melted into the dark blue waters of the river. Raghav looked up at the sky before throwing his ball at Anuj. “it’s getting dark. We need to hurry.” The other boys let out a collective groan. Listening to adults and then remembering it was definitely not appreciated by the teenage mind. “ One more over, dada. Then we’ll all go.” Said Anuj loudly. “we’re winning easily.” He whispered as Raghav crossed him on the field. “ so this is the last over. Losing team pays for lunch tomorrow.” Anuj declared to loud cheering from the Nirmali Apartment Heroes. Shilpa Colony Lions stared in silence. One over can’t give you 37 runs. It was just not possible. Raghav smirked and squatted behind Abeer. His lunch tomorrow was fixed. Abeer hardly knew how to hold the bat. Anuj would eat him alive. It was best baller v/s worst batsman. It felt good to be on the winning side. Anuj rubbed the ball on his thigh while stretching his neck. And before Abeer even understood it, Anuj was running and his ball had struck off the wickets. “OUT” hollered the umpire. One, two, three... each ball took out one player. Anuj was on fire today. “Anuj the man!” shouted everyone when a new player went down. Shilpa Colony Lions counted their money nervously. It was the last ball. Victory, for the Lions, was an alien concept now. But there was one stubborn boy, like there always is, who wanted to somehow mitigate it. It was the need of the hour and Joseph was not going to not give his best. The mark of a true warrior was to fight when defeat was certain. Joseph knew this was his moment. He could feel it in his blood. Joseph stretched his shoulders and flexed his arms in a failed attempt at a show of his invisible biceps. Embarrassed, he rolled down his sleeves again and held his bat at a 45 degree angle. 45 degree was Joseph’s lucky angle. Raghav and Anuj smiled at him. They were a group- the three of them. They went to the same school. United by school and separated by residences, they played for different teams and as far as Joseph was considered, Colony was definitely before brothers. He looked at them angrily to which they both laughed. They knew how he was. Anuj knew it was the last ball. The best Joseph could do was score a six which was not enough to win anyways. So he decided to go easy on his friend. By now, everyone had lost interest and half the boys were already heading out of the playground. The said playground was actually an abandoned rice field behind Mr. Kashyap’s house. It was a lonely locality owing to the fact that more than half the people were in their sixties or seventies. Mostly abandoned by their children, deliberately or not, the locality didn’t boast of many young voices. The beginning was like any other pitch. Anuj rubbed the ball on his pants, gave a smirk as if laughing at the batsman, and slowly ran towards him. He swung his arm in a full circle and as it reached the front, the ball left his arm only to touch the bat this time, because that’s where Anuj had aimed and it went flying. CLASH “God no!” shouted Raghav as the ball broke a window. “why did you do that, Joe? You know there was no chance of you winning anyways!” Anuj came running near him. Joseph looked at them guiltily. All the boys had gathered around Joseph in the next five seconds and there was silence. “So who’s going to get the ball? People here are not so friendly.” Squeaked a scared Ravi from behind. “I don’t see the point of even discussing. Obviously, Joseph. He is the one responsible for this. So he’s taking the ball. I am going. My mom’s waiting. She told me to be home by 5.”Abeer took his bat from Joseph’s hand and went away without even looking back. The rest of the boys stared behind Abeer for some time and soon, one by one, all followed suit. Nobody wanted to be reprimanded for something they haven’t done. The field was empty soon leaving behind only Raghav, Anuj and Joseph. “Seriously though, what were you planning to do? You could have toned it down a notch or two. I was handing you an easy one.” Anuj wiped his hands on his khaki shorts. “there comes a time when every warrior...” “shut up Joe. How are we going to get the ball back?” Joseph’s great soliloquy got interrupted by Raghav’s practicality. Seconded by Anuj, Joseph remained the guilty. They thought for some time. Finally a plan was devised which involved Raghav apologising, being the oldest and most articulate of the lot and Joseph and Anuj were to keep their heads down all the while. The boys made it to the front door and knocked timidly. No response. A black nameplate read “prof. Arnab Kashyap, retd. Prof of Ophthalmology, Gauhati Medical College” in golden letters. Turns out Mr. Kashyap had a passion for bonsai. His garden was full of tiny trees. Tiny Beech, Bodhi, Juniper- it was a beautiful collection. The owner of such intricacies was definitely someone with a lot of leisure time. The boys knocked again. It was starting to get dark. When nobody opened the door, Joseph was the first to get angry. “we can just go. We will buy another ball.” “That is not how it is, Joe. We need to apologise for breaking his window.” Raghav reasoned “Joe’s right, dada. What if he asks for money?” Anuj put his hand on Raghav’s shoulder to stop him from knocking again. “ Then we’ll pay. We must. That is our responsibility. We need to take responsibility for the messes we make, Anuj. Otherwise the world will be too cluttered, don’t you think? Joe?” “Fine. But at least, he should open up.” Mumbled Joseph as he kicked on the door. To their amazement, the door opened. “what? The door was open all the time? so nobody stays here or what?” “shh... Let’s explore.” And before Raghav could stop them from a probable attempt of breaking and entering, he was pulled in too. “let’s take the ball and scoot.” There were nervous whispers and maniac laughter to which Raghav groaned but in situations like this, it was impossible to not get excited. Raghav was no exception to this human trait of loving vices. “where’s the light switch?” “dude, don’t switch on the light.” “I can’t see anything.” “well, darkness does that to you.” “thanks, captain obvious.” “I am stuck. What’s this...” Joseph’s cry for help was followed by a loud thud of a stack of something falling. The older boys rushed to the source of sound after Raghav switched on the lights. When they reached Joseph, they found him stuck in the middle of a big pile of shiny books. The books were probably on the top of the wooden table which Joseph had knocked over during his frantic search for the ball. “are you hurt?” Raghav asked while checking for any visible signs of injury. However, it was the books that had immobilised Joseph. “ what are you doing? We need to get out of here as quick as possible.” “Anuj is right. Get out of that pile of books and help us find the ball. We need to get out of here. Fast.” When Joseph showed no intention of locomotion even after this, Raghav and Anuj knew something was up. “is this what I think it is?” said Anuj as he picked up a book from the pile. “Yes! It’s every single issue of Marvel and DC since 2007. Can you believe it? And most of them are still inside the packing. Meaning nobody reads them here. NOBODY!” Squealed an excited Joseph. All the three boys examined the books happily and for a few moments, time had stopped. They say time travel hasn’t been invented yet. Clearly the person who said that has never read a book. “This one’s particularly good. Can we take some of these home, Raghav?” asked Anuj. “take what home?”They heard a trembling baritone behind them. The boys looked back at the speaker only to find an old man, probably in his sixties, dressed in a loose shirt and shorts, glaring at them. He wore rimmed spectacles like old grandfathers and looked very much in distress. The boys looked at one another and then at the old man and back again at each other. Raghav, being the oldest, was naturally in charge. “Sorry, Uncle. We were playing in the field behind your house. Our ball actually fell in through your window and we’re just here to get it. If there have been damages, we will pay...um...Uncle?” he followed a transfixed Mr. Kashyap’s gaze only to be stopped at Joseph’s paranoid smile. “he would have been like you. Tell me your age, you, little boy.” Mr. Kashyap asked Joseph with surreal awe. “I am 15 years old on the certificate. But actually I am 16.” Joseph smiled awkwardly at the man. “Just like him.” he whispered back. “If you don’t mind, Uncle, our ball? Our moms are waiting. It’s dark already.” Anuj repeated Raghav’s plea. “yes. Wait.” Mr. Kashyap disappeared into the shadows. When he was back, he had a tattered tennis ball in his hand. Raghav murmured a small thank you to which the boys followed suit. However, it seemed the only thank you Mr. Kashyap cared about was Joseph’s. “you play here often, Joseph?” he asked again. “when I am free, yes.” Replied Joseph nonchalantly. But something seemed off about Mr. Kashyap. The way he talked with or behaved with Joseph, it was as if he knew him already and if not, he really wanted to. He looked at Joseph like the beggar looked at a bowl of fruit- wistfully and hungrily. “we should get going, Mr. Kashyap. We are sorry for your loss.” The boys retreated towards the door. “you know nothing of my loss to be sorry about it.” He replied to their apology. None of them understood what he meant so just like humans, they chose to ignore him. The older two walked on but that particular Spiderman issue just could not get out of Joseph’s head. He had to have that magazine. He tried to shut up but sometimes, you’d know if you were ever young, the mind just falls in love with an object and you just want it. So much that it becomes irrational not to ask for it and that’s exactly what Joseph did. “actually Uncle, can I have one single issue of Spiderman out of your pile of unopened comics? I am sure you don’t need them.” Raghav and Anuj tried to coax him out of it. Unheard whispers and pleas followed by death threats, but no, Joseph just wanted it. “please.” He repeated. “they possess sentimental value, dear child. Otherwise, I’d have given it to you.” There was a sad melancholy in Mr. Kashyap’s voice that made Raghav want to slap Joseph for even asking for it. He and Anuj exchanged pained looks. In an attempt to diffuse the tension, Raghav started again, “we under...” But Joseph cut him off again, “Please, Uncle. It is just a comic which you don’t read anyways. Isn’t it better if we had it instead? It will have a practical value then.” What Joseph failed to see was that the old man in front of him was tearing up. Sentiments may lose a war with practicality in life but we all know which brings the bigger storm. The old man grew suddenly pensive. He sat down on a red plastic chair near the scattered pile of books. In a solemn voice, he said, “I would like to tell you all a story. Please sit down, it will take some time.” They knew it was late. But something about the way he said it made them all stop and listen. They sat down on whatever they could find. “there was a prince once. Whatever he drew would come to life. He would draw dragons and they would come to life. But then they would spit fire. So he would draw water and quench all fires the dragons built. He drew a river for his kingdom once, when it didn’t rain for six months and theirs was the only kingdom with crops that year. The prince’s mother died giving birth to him so the king was his only parent and that was a very bad thing because this stupid old king didn’t want him to be an artist. Drunk in power and greed, he wanted him to be king because all his friends’ sons were going to be kings. No one was going to be an artist. Well, they couldn’t be, after all. The fact that none of the other princes could draw as beautifully as the prince never dawned on the king. He just wanted his son to be king. Like him. Like everybody. The king was a foolish, foolish man.” The old man choked in the middle as if the words were poison, then he continued, “so one day, this little prince, sad and lonely, he asked his father for permission to buy a magical book that will make him the greatest artist in the whole kingdom. He asked again and again. He screamed, he cried, he pleaded, he reasoned. But no, the king was not to budge. He would not let him paint. So, grief stricken and lost, he went out of the palace to buy it himself and on his way...” it seems the story was taking too much. The man sat silent for sometime before continuing, “...a Maruti 800 hit him and he died. The highway is visible from the first floor window. Right in front of my eyes, I saw it. It was like watching a whole line of dominoes fall- you can see it happening, the first one falls and hits the second, the second hits the third and slowly but surely, the whole sequence unravels right in front of your eyes and you can do nothing but watch. Destruction, I believe, happens like that. You shout, you cry, you plead but it doesn’t listen. It just breaks. That must be how he must have felt when I said no to his dreams. He saw each and every single fibre of his being snap and I kept on tearing him apart. I do not challenge God. That I lost him is not what I repent but the fact that I lost him in grief is what I wish to change. I wish to change the way he died- sad, broken and empty. I wish I could turn back the clock and bring the wheels of time to a stop. I want to relive the moment in which I said no and make that a yes so that when he dies, his lips remain closed in a smile and his eyes dry. An accident could never kill my child. It was I, my words, which killed him.” he was trembling uncontrollably now. His voice was heavy with pain. Surprisingly, Joseph walked up to him. He wiped the tears with his muddy hands and hugged him. The man laughed and cried at the same time. “he would be as old as you if he were alive. Fifteen on certificate and sixteen actually.” “all these comics? Why do you continue to buy them? He’s not here anymore, Uncle.” For the first time in their lives, Raghav and Anuj saw Joseph genuinely sad. They glanced at each other and felt strangely grateful to have supportive parents. “that day he was hit by the car? He was coming back from the post office to post his subscription letter for these. Every month, they would come and remind me of the life I once had. He drew better than Stan Lee, have you seen his Spider man?” The old man frantically ran in the house and brought back a pile of A4 sheets. Spiderman, Batman, Superman, wonder woman, supergirl, Avengers. And a lot of dragons- he was every ounce the artist his father said. It broke their hearts to see what he could have been. “Every year, on his death anniversary, I go to the post office and send a letter for the renewal of his subscription. It feels like he walks with me then.” Mr. Kashyap fell on the ground crying with all the pictures in his hands. It was depressing to see him like that- helpless and inconsolable. Joseph walked up to him and slowly raised his face towards him by the chin, “ I don’t know if anyone had told you this till now but I will. I forgive you, Uncle. I forgive you for being unkind to your son. I forgive you for not understanding him. I forgive you for every wrong you have committed. I forgive you.” And like a little child, a grown man cried at Joseph’s feet, holding his hand and kissing them again and again. It seemed as if Mr. Kashyap was going to sleep peacefully after a long time tonight. “ it’s getting dark. How do you plan to reach home, eh?” he wiped his tears on the back of his sleeve. He picked up the papers and the comics. Joseph handed the one he was holding back to him. In that moment, when Mr. Kashyap looked at Joseph like he did, they all knew that he was going to let Joseph keep it. What they didn’t know was that even years after that evening, the boys would keep visiting Mr. Kashyap. I don’t believe in rebirths. But finding someone again in life? Why not!