You got me the bat and the ball, to play what has been my favorite game. I'd always fight with you to bat first, because I knew that you weren't interested in the game anyway. You liked my company. I would bat, you would hit the wicket before I complete the run and then... I would bat again.
That day when the ball hit the tubewell and went inside, the usual me created such a nuisance. It was my ball, and it was so important to me. You tried consoling, but does that ever work on me? I pushed the blame on you for having lost my ball, and you started feeling guilty too. It was a pleasure to see you working around making me happy, that's what you always did.
You gave in and jumped to get my ball back to me. The well was deep, the ball had disappeared in the darkness. I had promised I would hold the rope and pull you outside when you find it. You did find it soon enough and then you were climbing up as I held the rope. It took you a lot of time. You had my ball in one hand and you tried climbing up holding it in your underarms. It was difficult.
I was looking down, but the pit was dark and I couldn't see you. And then for a minute, holding the rope in my hands, I looked up where I stood. The backyard of my house, the beautiful trees and our other friends coming from a distance. The dusk, the calling of my mother from the window, and my tired hands, all were making me give up holding the rope.
I seemed to forget my old games, my old ball.
How easy was it to get distracted.
I turned around and the rope slipped a bit. It continuously slipped from my hands and the slip caused a cut on my palm. That, along with your scream from inside the well had shook me I guess. And before it was too late, I turned back around to the well and held the rope back again.
It's disappointing that you had no way to go and I had let the rope go. You would have fallen somewhere, and I would have had no way to know. Yes, the realisation wasn't automatic, it was induced, but it was destined, like all other things in the world.
Now you say you wouldn't come up because you don't trust me with the rope. But my grip is stronger. You feel I would get distracted, but I'm trying to focus now. You tell me it would be difficult to get the ball now, do I care.
I won't turn around now. We have an unfinished game to play, and you'd bat this time :)
That day when the ball hit the tubewell and went inside, the usual me created such a nuisance. It was my ball, and it was so important to me. You tried consoling, but does that ever work on me? I pushed the blame on you for having lost my ball, and you started feeling guilty too. It was a pleasure to see you working around making me happy, that's what you always did.
You gave in and jumped to get my ball back to me. The well was deep, the ball had disappeared in the darkness. I had promised I would hold the rope and pull you outside when you find it. You did find it soon enough and then you were climbing up as I held the rope. It took you a lot of time. You had my ball in one hand and you tried climbing up holding it in your underarms. It was difficult.
I was looking down, but the pit was dark and I couldn't see you. And then for a minute, holding the rope in my hands, I looked up where I stood. The backyard of my house, the beautiful trees and our other friends coming from a distance. The dusk, the calling of my mother from the window, and my tired hands, all were making me give up holding the rope.
I seemed to forget my old games, my old ball.
How easy was it to get distracted.
I turned around and the rope slipped a bit. It continuously slipped from my hands and the slip caused a cut on my palm. That, along with your scream from inside the well had shook me I guess. And before it was too late, I turned back around to the well and held the rope back again.
It's disappointing that you had no way to go and I had let the rope go. You would have fallen somewhere, and I would have had no way to know. Yes, the realisation wasn't automatic, it was induced, but it was destined, like all other things in the world.
Now you say you wouldn't come up because you don't trust me with the rope. But my grip is stronger. You feel I would get distracted, but I'm trying to focus now. You tell me it would be difficult to get the ball now, do I care.
I won't turn around now. We have an unfinished game to play, and you'd bat this time :)
This feels so like a slow-motion cut from life, narrated with so much patience with an eye into each detail on the moments passed in between.
ReplyDeleteThe first two paragraphs are good enough make anyone fall in love with the 'story' (if I could presume so). But with start like this, why end it so short!
This one was a failed attempt to articulate what I wanted the readers to see. I think there wasn't much left to write and the point was proven much before. The "friend" couldn't have held the rope indefinitely. I had to quickly get him up. Hence the end was too short. One of my not so good stories :)
ReplyDelete