Neighbours- My first hand experience

Natthu was sitting in the small veranda of his small house with his wife, trying to shake off the heat of the day in dying sun. His wife Meenu was playing with their 6 month old daughter.

“Ae Meenu, looks like Shyamlal is not well from the past few days. I can hear him vomiting in the middle of every night.”

“Yes, perhaps he his counting his last days”, she gave a cold reply.

“Should we go and see him? I mean just for a while?”

She stared at him for a second and said,” Even if a dog of this village saw you entering or coming out of his house, you know all of us will be thrown out of the village. What about Muniya’s future then?”

Their little daughter smiled delightfully, perhaps at the mention of her name.

Natthu took a deep breath, and stared into the sun directly which was spreading last lot of its rays on his crops. He looked at his daughter, who was still smiling, and thought,” Is this the only thing which can darken the future of my daughter?”

 

Darkness soon engulfed the village. Natthu and his small family were eating millet chapattis when he heard a noise from the other side of the wall, Shyamlal’s house. He stopped eating and tried to listen what the noise was about. But not a word was understandable. He stood and washed his hands. He noticed that Meenu was staring blankly into his face.

“Don’t worry.” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She said nothing, just looked pitifully at her little daughter.

Natthu, covering his face with a piece of cloth, walked to the door of his house and peeped outside. Not even a single soul was visible in the dark. He then looked at the door of Shyamlal’s house. A flicker of light from inside showed that the door was ajar. The noise was still coming from the house but still he could not understand anything. All he could make out was that of several people speaking. Was Shyamlal dead? The thought of his neighbour’s death gave him enough courage to go to his house. He once again looked around. Walking low and noiselessly he reached at the door of Shyamlal’s house. He thought of knocking but the more time he stood outside his house, the darker the future of his daughter appeared to him. So he quickly went inside the house and closed the door behind him. As he turned he saw all three sons of Shyamlal standing together. They were apparently having a heated discussion over something.

“All mango trees will be mine I’m saying this for the last time. Let’s do it fast and make the arrangements as it is getting late”, said the eldest son.

“No bhaiya. You can’t take that all alone. It has to be divided among us equally”, replied the youngest son.

The middle son spoke instantly,” No. I’ll take.....”

He paused as he had seen Natthu standing at the door. The eldest one greeted him and said,” Natthu bhaisaab! Glad to see that at least our father’s neighbour has come to see him.”

“But where is your father? Is he alright?” asked Natthu.

They looked into each other’s faces. After a pause the eldest one spoke in an utmost plain voice,” You don’t know? He died this morning.”

All three of them moved aside to show something. There lay Shyamlal’s lifeless body on a large block of ice.

Natthu stood aghast for a while and then looked into the emotionless faces of all three of them. All three of his beloved sons were standing besides his corpse with full confidence as if nothing had happened.

Without saying a word he left. He wondered how just two neighbouring houses can accommodate such wide variety of people.