The Summer Holidays Kachoris

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THE SUMMER HOLIDAYS KACHORIS

I walk down my memory lane and tell you a story that is a real incident. It happened long ago when I was in my fifth standard and I had summer vacation in school. Summer vacations would bring a bunch of overburdening homework except I never took any burden save for the last week of the vacations. With no school to attend and television all day, these were a much awaited gifts for which we would wait all year and finally they were here. I had my summer vacation. 

My cousin, Ramesh, had come to visit. He would spend the summer holidays at my home. Ramesh is two years older than me but I do not call him' bhaiya' which means big brother in Hindi. I have always called him just 'Ramesh'. I like Ramesh in all ways but there is something about him that I could not accept either as a child or to this day. He thinks being a male makes him somehow superior to females. And you see, I am a girl. During our matches, if I lost he consoled me by making fun and saying, "Moni, you are only a girl." And if he lost, he hated it because a girl did beat him in something. Otherwise, he is a caring big brother and we love each other dearly. I would follow whatever he would say. We watched cartoons together, my dolls lay in the box because he would not play with them and we played all  other games imaginable which only boys should play. 

One such day, he gave me an idea. He proposed that we eat kachoris from the market. But there was a  problem. Ramesh's mother would allow him pocket money but my parents would not allow me any such thing. If he ate then I had to eat too but who would give me money? Ramesh was in no mood to treat me so he suggested a plan. I had to take some  money out from my mother's box. In simple language, that is stealing. Since Ramesh is my senior, I felt no scruples while making this agreement with him besides the prospect seemed very exciting. I had never stolen money before. The excitement was so high that I never felt any pang of guilt. Besides, it would be us and only us who would buy and eat kachoris. I had always eaten out with my parents or elders. It would be the first time that I would eat with a friend from a shop. 

The next day, I waited till my mother went to take a bath. Father was safely in his office. I then went very excited, my heart racing although nobody but Ramesh was watching me. I went to open the box kept on a shelf and took out five rupees. Then I safely closed the lid of the tiffin box which was full with shining coins. My mother had kept the box outside carelessly because she had not a hint of doubt in her heart that it would be stolen from one day. I gave that money to Ramesh and we waited till the evening. Then lying about going to a friend's house we left together. The kachori shop was a short distance from home. 

I had been to this shop so many times with my parents and seen the pot bellied halwai rolling small balls of dough into flat and round shapes then putting them carefully into ghee one by one and wait for sometime till the kachoris came out round and fluffy. Then they would be served in leaf plates with some red and green chutney. I had loved to go there and watch the halwai make kachoris and enjoyed eating them before. But now as I walked with Ramesh, my excitement began to fade away and by the time I had reached the shop, I only wanted to leave. But true to my words and promise, I had to eat the kachoris. A dark mist seemed to have descended on all that I saw. I remembered coming with mother to stand there and eat. I was scared that some known person would see me and call me a thief. In the gaze of anyone who saw me, I felt that the person was accusing me of stealing. Ramesh had his own pocket money but my money was a stolen one. Every hint of my original smile had left my face and I stood guiltily as Ramesh ordered two kachoris for me and two for himself. My stomach said that it was no longer hungry but I ate the kachoris. I could have eaten mud as well. The hot green chutney and the sweet and sour red chutney made no effect on my taste buds and I stuffed the kachoris into my mouth like I used to stuff bitter gourd at back at home. Then I do not remember walking back but my heart felt heavy at every step. 

I do not remember when night came and father came back home. I remember being terrified to face him. I imagined that he knew about my misdoings. But when he saw me not in my daily happy mood, he thought I might be sick. He had no idea of what I had done. I do not remember eating dinner and going to bed but I remember sleeping on floor because Ramesh had my bed so my bed would be made on floor those days. I slept and now I could feel the taste of kachoris in my mouth. I could not sleep though I was really sleepy and I went to mother to say, whisper quietly in her ears, "Maa, I have eaten kachoris." She woke up from her sleep. I now felt no panic for the punishment but relief, relief from guilt. She looked straight into my eyes and said after a long silence," Go to bed my child. I heard you." I obeyed immediately. While closing her bedroom door I thought I had seen a proud smile on her face. Then I had imagined it to be my imagination but now I know that her smile was real. 

The next day, she would not through her words or eyes let me know what she had heard the previous night and kept the tiffin box of money where it was. She was never wrong about her child, her guiltless little one... 

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