Okay then, I will tell you a story today. Not so long, neither too short. Maybe you will love it, maybe you will not. Whatever be it just keep mum and listen.
~Long long time ago in the far far land of Pritampura lived a family of four. A father, a mother and their two children. One of them a boy and the other a girl.
Santosh the boy was a year younger than Sushree, his sister. When father would go to work in the fields and mother would get busy in her work, both of them would put their jute bags on their shoulders and leave for school.
"Mumma, I and Saltosh are going to study." Sushree would say in her squeaky voice before closing the door.
Santosh would smile at her, lips closed and almost closing his eyes. Holding hands they would sing merrily and dance their way to school.
"Salaam Sushree beti. Going to school?" The village postman would stop his cycle seeing them both going to school everyday.
Sushree would nod her head and the two pony tails on either side of her head would hop up and down.
"Have you got a letter for us chacha?" Santosh with round black watery eyes in his lean body and half pants with a all time running nose would ask.
And like everyday the postman would playfully glance in his bag and reply, "Nahi, No." Hand them both a sweet and leave.
Santosh and Sushree would then continue their journey to school.
While at the field, father would keep working hard, very hard. Drenched in his own sweat he would sometimes look up at the sky and then continue without stopping. Be it a thunderstorm or intense heat. Father would be there at the field, watering the plants digging the soil.
Mother would be busy collecting firewood, cooking and cleaning the house.
At night father would narrate stories to the children until they fell asleep. He would then walk up to the only second hand broken almirah in the little room and take out a letter that the postman had handed him the day itself. He would read it, and then sit outside on the courtyard under the moonlit sky, hear the crickets and the owl. A drop or two of fresh saline water would roll down his cheek. His wife would sometimes sit beside him without uttering a word.
One day while Shushree and Santosh were returning from school, Santosh sat down under a tree.
"Are your legs paining brother?" Sushree sat beside him.
Santosh just smiled his trademark smile. Lips closed. From his pocket he revealed a pencil, bright red in color, a glittering body, an eraser sat on it's head like a crown. Sushree had never seen a such a pencil before.
"Who gave this to you?" Sushree's mouth still remained wide open.
Santosh now revealed his yellowing teeth.
"Tell me." Sushree knew father couldn't afford to buy such a pencil for Santosh, in case he would then Sushree would have got one too.
"A friend gave it to me." Santosh finally answered.
"Really?"
"Yes, he gave it to me, but don't tell mumma and papa."
"Why?" Sushree was curious.
"It's a magic pencil." Santosh whispered.
Of course it wasn't a magic pencil. Earlier that day in school, Santosh had seen it in Hari's hand and fell in love with it instantly and while no one was watching he quietly slid it into his pocket. Sushree being innocent beloved what Santosh said but as days passed and the the number of items Santosh stole increased gradually
Sushree realized what her brother was up to.
One night father narrated them a story. Story of a boy who used to steal small items and eventually ended up in jail for the rest of his life. He told the children that theft was a serious crime and that if practiced would yield disastrous results even death. Sushree was worried for her brother.
"I am happy with what father gives me." Sushree said on the way to school the following morning.
"I would never steal, I guess you too wouldn't, I trust you my brother." Even at a tender age Sushree very well knew how to make her brother understand.
Santosh on the other hand realized his mistake and promised himself that he would not steal again. But as days progressed he whitewashed his promise and returned to his destiny.
Several summers and winters passed by, Santosh was now sixteen and Sushree a year older.
Sushree had stopped going to school, it had been a year, she was ill. Even a minute's walk would tire her and her heart would almost stop beating.
Santosh now stole money, theft had become his daily habit. The path which he had chosen had no end now and going back was am impossible task.
It was during the winter that year. Santosh and his gang of friends had decided a big loot.
"We will feast with the money." Rajan, one of Santosh's partner had declared. Finding no other option, Santosh decided to steal from his own house. From that same almirah where father kept those letters and the money he had been saving.
The darkness of the night changed to white, Santosh swiped out each and every penny from his house.
As usual the postman handed father a letter that morning.
It was noon by then. Sushree's mother wailed in the courtyard, Sushree wept on her bed, father had hung himself.
The tragedy was too hard on the family. Bankrupt, Sushree and her mother were left with only tears. And within some days Sushree joined her father too. Those late night stories were now a distant dream.
That was a intensely cold night, having finished up with all his stolen money Santosh returned home. There was no one there. His father who would smile at him even in his hard times. His sister who from her bed blew him kisses and expressed her love for him. Even mother was missing too.
Santosh lit up a candle and lay on the bed. He remembered father's story that night. Theft is a serious crime and that if practiced would yield disastrous results even death.
And then within a flash his saw his mother with a knife in her hand.
"You rogue! Thief. I am ashamed that I am mother of such a creature. You are not only a thief. A murdered. You stole your father's and sister's life. You killed us."
Santosh had never seen mother like that. A sweat band appeared on his head.
"Even before you and your sister were born, your father had a dept to clear. Those letters were from the landlords. He cried everyday, struggled, worked his life out to clear them. Saved money for you and Sushree. For Sushree's illness and you you killed them!"
A tear drop ran down mother's cheek and landed on the knife. Then there was blood. Santosh and his mother lay motionless on a red blood pool. Sushree and father on the other end were waiting for them.~
Okay folks that's all for the day. This story ends here on the road to heaven. I will be back again with another story, some other day. But on this very place, WriterBabu is it's name.
