The Pundit Freedom

  A river stood still, scintillating in the night under the light of a full moon.  The boughs of a tree standing high above the river quaked side-to-side by the force of the wind.  A single orange leaf fell from it's trembling branch into the fine ripples of the water and was sent downstream in the pushing current.  It was the embarking of fall, where all was silent at night and there were as many stars in the night sky as there were ripples in a stream.  The trees had already begun to lose their leaves, and the leaves were soon captured by the stream and taken out of town, eventually reaching the Bay of Bengal and floating out of Madras.
  Laying across the whistling stream was a small bridge.  Not a very robust, well-made bridge, but a modest bridge made of wood planks and a redwood railing.  It hung low to the water, making itself a good play spot for the children in South Madras.  Dangling his feet in it now and watching the water glisten as it swept around his feet in the water, was infact a boy.  He wasn't a child, though; He was just bored.
  His name was Aasim, and he was a boy no later than 14 years.  His eyes were dark, with a reflection of the glistening stream on them, with whites that were whiter than snow, showing off refulgently behind his dark hair.  His thick eyebrows would make his eyes invisible if looked down at from above.  His hair was black with years of labor and confinement, and long, too, but tame.  He had dark skin to match, dark skin that blended in with the melancholy of his detained life.  He had an angular jaw, with thin lips and a large, though not exceedingly, nose.  His teeth were a bright white, though his clothes dirty, the only thing he wore being a long, dark blue robe and well-worn sandals made of the cheapest pilgrim's jute.
  He was staying up this late because he had been kicked out of his home once again, for staying out too late with Chaaya, a relatively wealthy miner's daughter, who lived not that far from Aasim's home.  He stayed out with her for about an hour later than when he was expected home, and when he finally got back, he received a beating and got kicked out of the house for the night.  'Oh, well,' he had thought, 'I've been through this before.  Nothing but tens of robbers out here.'
  Aasim stood up, yawned, and watched as another leaf fell into the stream.  He wished he could just float away like that, quick, unnoticed and carelessly.  Away from here.  Away from Madras.
  He had to find a good place to rest that night where he wouldn't be that noticeable by the theives.  While out here before, he had lost his self-made slingshot (Only made of a peculiar looking twig and string, but still, it was the best thing he had ever owned), his father's cotton blanket, lent to Aasim by his father (Used for Aasim to stay warm that night, the first nice thing that his father had ever done for him), and the biggest amount of Rupee that he had ever received from his work, shepherding the goats and cows.
  He began to look around for a nice alcove of some shop or other he could stay in, or some kind of bench, or perhaps even a tree to kip under.
  He spotted an abandoned shop not far away with moss growing heavily on one side, and great ivys hanging all over the decaying oak beams.
  Aasim quickly ran over to the side of the house, and lay down in the thick moss, trying to get comfortable.  He needed to be awake and alert the next day; It was his younger sister's and father's birthday, and they were going to have a small gathering to celebrate it, so he needed sleep.  He would be sore in the morning, he knew;  But at least this way he couldn't hear his mother screaming at night.
  His mother, Aayushi, had come down with a terrible illness the past year.  At first, they had had to call a doctor all the way from Coimbatore to give a diagnosis, yet they still didn't discover what was ailing her.  She had been bed-ridden that whole month, and by the end of the month she was losing a lot of weight and had trouble eating.  A few months later, she had lost all of her hair, and, whenever she opened her eyes, you could see a white, glossy effect on them.  And when she was actually fully awake, it was as though she hardly recognized her surroundings, like she had lost her memory of everything she ever knew.  A few months later, she had begun to moan in her sleep, and couldn't leave her bed, and had to be force fed, most of the time spitting the food back onto the floor again.  After that, she had begun to lose her voice, and couldn't even muster up the energy to wave her hand signaling someone who was in her presence to leave her alone.  And now, she sleeps all day, dosen't eat, and she screams with what is left of her voice at night from whatever pain was going on inside her.  And they couldn't find a doctor in all below the Vindhya who knew the ailment, or how to cease it's attack on Aayushi's body.  Aasim felt for her, though somehow he thought it would be better to end her pain.  But perhaps she would feel a little bit better after the party the next day, somehow maybe that would cheer her up.
  As the night fell in around him, Aasim felt as though his life were falling in around him, as well.  Collapsing, ever slowly, until it finally reached and destroyed him.  It was hard to see Chaaya, his mother was dying, he knew it, and foreign affairs were starting to reach home with the command and interference of the British, all the while he was stuck in this thorn-on-the rose of Madras.  He wished he could get some sort of adventure to liven up his dull life; Something he could later be proud of.  But for lives like his, things didn't go that way, ever.  And they never would, as long as he lived, he knew that for a fact.
  Finally, his troublesome thoughts crept away into the deepest chambers of his mind and he drifted into sleep.  It was a rough sleep, but a sleep without any screaming.  Or at least, a real screaming.  For Aasim would never be able to rid the sound of his mother's voice, crying out in agony, from his mind, and it was glued to his memory forever.


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  The next morning, the sound of a door slamming was what woke Aasim from his troubled sleep.  He jerked awake, and looked for the source of the noise, which turned out to be a shop nearby, where the owner had just come from to throw the contents of a bucket full to the brim with water out unto the clumsily paved street.
  The owner had long since been back inside his own shop by the time Aasim had registered the fact that he was awake, and stood up to stretch.
  It was very early in the morning; There weren't many people outside, and the birds were twittering as though it were just dawn.  The air still smelled fresh of the night, with dew and cedar in it's traces.
  Aasim yawned, and started his trek back home.  He didn't live that far from where he had been sleeping that night, but hopefully someone in his home would be awake by the time he had arrived there.
  Madras was a tiny town, it took only about 20 minutes to walk through the entire place.  There were small carts that sold things like jewelry, berries for make up, and dead animals.  There were larger shops that sold more expensive things; such as clothing, cooking utensils, furniture, and miscellaneous items, like toys for children, and books.  All of it was run by the British government.  It was good to know a little English, bad to know none.  The British came into India, took their home, put them to work, and took all the money.  Of course there were those who rebelled, but they were captured, killed, tortured.  Children as young as 6 were put to work at small factories.  People were robbed of their own money for the benefit of the government and lives in England.  They raised prices, took over the governmentation system of India, and preached different religions.  They destroyed hopes, ruined lives, shattered dreams, all for the benefit of their own country.  It was India that needed the help, not England.  There were millions more living in India to be taken care of than in England.  Even the middle-class of people in England already had the finest living, without the government's help,  while in India, it would be considered a lifetime's worth to own half of it.
  Not that Madras didn't have it's fun.  The children still played in the streets, the people still had their affairs and lives, and parties and religious practices still went on, British consented or not.
  But Aasim's family was not in one of those lucky families that still had their lives.  His little sister did not go to school, and, in being a female, she wouldn't be allowed to work anyway.  His father worked daily, for about 10 hours each day, except for on Sundays.  His mother, of course, was unable to do anything.  His older brother was mute; therefore, he was considered worthless by the British.  So, if their family was put to work, it would be dependant upon himself and his father to keep their house up.
  As he passed her home, Aasim wondered if Chaaya had gotten into trouble as well for staying out so late, and would've went to see her if he had any less sense.
  So, he walked on, staring vaguely at her front door. 
  When he finally reached his door, he raised his fist and knocked twice with his knuckles.  A few moments later, Nayakan, Aasim's older brother by 3 years, answered the door and let him in, pressing a finger to his lips, telling Aasim to be quiet; The rest of the family was probably still asleep.
  Nayakan led him into the kitchen.
  "Who is coming to the party?" Aasim asked him.
  Nayakan, who was mute, held up his fingers for Aasim to count.  First, he held up both hands, all fingers outstretched.  Second, he held up one hand, with all his fingers showing.  15.  And then Nayakan pointed to himself and Aasim in turn, and then waved his hand towards their parents bedroom, and then their younger sister Zara's bedroom, and held up 5 more fingers.  So, 20 in total.
  "What about Chaaya?  Is she invited?"
  Nayakan wearily shook his head.
  "Will I be permitted to bring her?"
  Nayakan pointed towards his parents bedroom again, where Aasim could hear his father stirring.
  He nodded at Nayakan and met his father as he was leaving the room.
  "What do you want?  Why are you back so early?"  Were his father's cheery salutations.
  "I wanted to ask you if I could invite Chaaya to the party.  And I woke up early.  I was sleeping on the hard ground, it wasn't exactly pleasant.  So, can I invite her?"
  His father, Aadesh, scrutinized Aasim closely, before saying, "Yes.  But next time, be more respectful with your requests."
  "Thank you," said Aasim, as he ran back out of the house and down to Chaaya's home.
  He knocked twice, but no one answered.  He peeked in through the window, and saw something moving.  He looked closer, and saw Chaaya with her back turned to the window, her long black hair swaying as she moved.  Aasim looked around more, and saw another man in the room, moving closer to her.
  Aasim looked on for a few more minutes, before heading back towards the door and pounding loudly on it.  Finally, someone answered.  And it was Chaaya.
  "Aasim!" Her voice sounded startled, "What are you doing here?  Here it turned icy.
  "I was coming to ask you if you would like to attend my father and Zara's birthday party...But now I have another question for you, Chaaya."
  "And what would that be, Aasim?"  Chaaya asked in her smooth voice, as the man Aasim had seen through the window stepped behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
  "Who is he?"
  "This is Aarush.  He comes from Ahmadobad to visit my father.  His uncle and my father are old acquaintances, and he came down here to inform my father of his uncle's passing.  Now go away.  I don't want to see you today."
  Aasim stayed put, staring up at Chaaya, he couldn't believe her.  But then Aarush pulled a knife out, and came dangerously close to Aasim with it.  Aasim ignored him and looked in Chaaya's eyes, which turned the other way.  Aasim didn't need this right now.  He would deal with Chaaya later, and, as he thought this, he turned around and went home.
  As soon as he arrived there, he went to his and Nayakans room, and locked the door.  But he couldn't get enough time to dwell on his miserable life before the sounds of his mother's screaming interrupted his thoughts and he heard little feet running through the hall, and someone pounding on his door.  'Zara', he thought.
  "C'mon, Aasim!  People are coming already," she screamed.
  Aasim sighed.  "I'm coming."
  He got up and walked across the creaking floor and opened the door.  As soon as he did, his little sister, Zara, hugged him and ran back into the kitchen.
  "Happy birthday!" he called after her.
  He soon followed after her, and, as he passed his mother's room, he went inside and knelt next to her at the bedside.  He prayed for her every morning.
  As he left the room, he bumped into his father.
  "So, is Chaaya coming?"
  "No," said Aasim shortly, not meeting Aadeshs eyes. 
  Their house was small.  From the entrance, there was a narrow, wooden hallway.  It led off on the right to their kitchen, with a simple oven built-in to the wall, and a bowl made of clay to wash their hands in.  It also had a small wooden table held up on rickety legs.  On the other side of the hall, across from the kitchen, was Aadesh and Aayushi's room.  It was the biggest room in the house, as it should be, considering it was used for thye elders in the house.  Down the hall a little bit, and on the left, was Aasim and Nayakan's room.  It was small, with one window on the opposite side of the door and two small beds.  Across from their room, and the last room in the house, was Zara's room.  It was the smallest room, yet probably the cleanest.
  The party was mainly going to be in the kitchen.  There were already people arriving, if few.  Those already present were 5 other villagers: Abdul, his wife Aashi, their daughter Eta, and an old worker named Zakery, with his old wife Anbar.  Zara's aunt and uncle were already present as well.  8 people were left.
  Aadesh made Aasim set the small table with Nayakan.  As he did, Aasim heard a knock at the door, and sent Zara to answer it.
  In came Aneesa, a good friend of Aasim's, with her parents, brother and a few other people Aasim was not particularly familiar with.
  "Hi," said Aneesa, coming over to a stop in front of Aasim.  He glanced at her, and then went back to his work.
  "Fine," said, Aneesa, turning her back on him, pretending to be mad, "Be that way."
  He laughed and stepped in front of her, but she turned the other way again.  Laughing, he turned her around to face him.
  "This is a fun party," said Aneesa.
  "It should be, I'm here."
  "Ha, get over yourself.  So, what's wrong with you?"
  "It's nothing."
  "Nothing means something."
  "No, something means something.  Nothing means nothing.  But, if it's gonna be opposite, then my something must be nothing.  There, I have nothing to tell you."
  "Stop confusing me."
  Zara ran between them, holding up a doll made out of a sack stuffed with dirt to Aneesa's face.
  "Happy birthday, Zara!" Aneesa said, hugging her.
  "Thank you," she replied.
  Soon, all extra 15 people had arrived.  Their tiny kitchen was so cramped, no one could move.  Aadesh, Zara, Nayakan, Zakery and Anbar were the ones sitting at the table.  Abdul, Aashi, and Eta were squeezed together near the oven.  Aasim and Aneesa were standing together near the entrance to the kitchen.  Their aunt and uncle were standing closely together not that far away.  Aneesa's parents and brother were near the only window in the kitchen, which was opposite the door, huddled together, looking like they were so cramped they couldn't breathe.  The other four, which were Zara and Aadesh's friend's, were gathered around the table and had to manuever somewhere out of their way whenever someone stood up from the table. 
  Aasim offered to carry a plate of bread, cheese and a cup of water to Aayushi.  He nearly tripped trying to carry it out of the klaustrophobic room. 
  The curtains in the room were closed, giving it a dim light.  Aayushi was still sleeping, with the sheets stuck to her skin and drenched with sweat.  Aasim carried it over to her, and knelt down by her side.  He prodded her gently with his finger, and she eventually stirred, looking at him with out of focus and glossy eyes.  He held a small peice of cheese in front of her, and she slowly took it in her mouth and ate it.  He fed her for awhile, until she shook her head and waved the food away with what little energy she had left. 
  When he went back into the kitchen, someone had started to smoke, making the room smell.  Aneesa took Aasim outside with Zara, to get away from the smell.
  Aasim and Aneesa let Zara play in the stream while they sat at the edge of the brigde, kicking their feet in the water.
  A British officer passed them with a disgusted look in his eye.  He spat on the ground as he passed Aasim, who did nothing but watch the officer walk away.
  While he wasn't paying attention, Zara splashed him and Aneesa with a large wave of water.
  "Aasim," whispered Aneesa, watching the officer disappear into the night, "The gaurds took away my uncle last week.  They'll be coming for more.  I'd get your family away from here.  You don't want to get caught up in this.  You don't want to be found on sides.  And may I ask you a favor?"
  "Of course," said Aasim.
  "Will you take me and the rest of my family with you and yours when you ever escape?  Please take us with you."
  "Of course I will."
 


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  The next week, Aasim went to the Town Square to run some errands.  The sun was beating down on his back and he was sweating as he walked slowly over to the well to get a drink.  Some soilders were looking at him strangely as he approached it.
  He kept his eyes down as he raised the bucket and took a sip.  They had been talking before he came over there, but they had suddenly stopped when they had seen him.  Why would they care if he had entered their presence?
  He walked away again, and back up to the house.
  As he passed the bridge where he, Aneesa, and Zara had sat on the night of the party, he thought about the promise he had made Aneesa.
  Would his family ever have to leave Madras anyway?
  And would he be able to take Aneesa and her family?
  Or would there then be too many people and Aasim have to break his promise to Aneesa?  He couldn't break a promise.
  He would have to figure out SOME way to take her and the rest of her family.  What would become of them if he couldn't take them?
  He thought about this as he passed Nayakan in the hall.  Nayakan pressed a finger to his lips and pointed in the direction of Aayushi's room.  Aasim nodded; His mother was asleep.
  And what would he do with his mother if they had to run away?  How would she even be able to come with them?  She couldn't even open her eyes, let alone run for her life.  He couldn't just leave her here for dead.  He would find some way to take her with them, aswell, if they ever had to run away, that is.
  Zara met Aasim as he entered his room and sat down on his bed.
  "Daddy wants you to go and tend the animals while he's gone."
  "Where is he?"
  "He went to get some herbal medicine for mother from Abul Khayr.  He only left about 15 minutes ago."
  "Oh, okay, thanks Zara," said Aasim, standing back up again.
  "No problem," she said, running back to her room.
 


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  Aasim pushed open the creaking gate that led into the pasture, and set out to work.
  As he fed and milked the cows, Aasim stared out over the horizon, thinking of everything.  His mother, Aneesa, and the task set before him; Should his family run away, and, if they do, take Aneesa and hers with them?  And how would he bring his mother with them?
  And what about Chaaya?  He didn't care much for her anymore, just what would he do?  Sit around and just watch her and her family be taken away, too?
  Ever since he had made that promise to Aneesa, he felt like there was something waiting for him if he took the risk to find out.  He couldn't really explain it, but he just felt a pull away from Madras.  Maybe the thought of running away was what had invoked this thought into his mind so unexpectedly.  He thought there was something out there, just waiting for him to come along and pick it up.
  The night air was cool, and the sun was a deep orange on the edge of the world.  Blue and purple towered above it in the night sky, with tens of stars out that night.
  As he was dealing with the goats, night fell.
  He wasn't paying attention much as he watched the goat walk before him, thin, and nimble.  It reminded him of his mother, so helpless.
  As soon as he made this comparison between the goat and his mother, a thought came to him so suddenly, and so reassuringly, he stopped in his tracks and stared ahead blankly into the darkness, savoring his plan.


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