Gulab Jamun…

 

It was a sultry summer morning.  It being Sunday, the boys occupying the cottage next to Mishra Ji’s cottage lay lazily on their thin mattresses spread across the floor. They had left the front door open, to let the morning breeze come in. Their coherent snoring was audible to the chaiwallah, stationed in his shabby establishment across the street. The paperboy called out each by their name, but none bothered to answer him. Out of dismay, he threw the newspaper inside and went on his way.

Their snoring stopped only when the words, ‘Hey Ram! Hey Ram!’ came in through the window, opening into Mishra Ji’s courtyard. The voice seemed familiar. It was Mishra Ji again. But unlike previous occasions, he sounded  more of worried than angry this time.

‘Ramesh, what have you done this time, to set Mishra Ji on a rampage early morning?’ asked Tribhuvan, elbowing Ramesh in his loin. Ramesh unaware of what was happening bothered not to pay any heed and slept like a lifeless body.

The boys staying next to Mishra Ji’s cottage studied in a college situated in the vicinity of the neighborhood. They were a group of five. They appeared no less than close knit brothers, from the kind of bond they shared but weren’t related in blood. They managed their daily chores in turn and spent time after college, studying, playing cricket or sharing silly jokes.

Every now and then, a cricket ball would fly into Mishra Ji’s courtyard, shattering pickle bottles, kept in the sun to dry or throwing chilies in air spread on cotton sheets. This would send Mishra ji into a fit of rage and he would curse the boys and prayed the gods to show wrath on them. The boys giggled and made faces at his words.

Today morning when Mishra Ji woke up, he heard   the braying of a donkey. The sound was loud enough to conclude that it wasn’t coming from far off but the animal was nowhere to be seen.  ‘But how come a donkey in my courtyard?’ questioned Mishra Ji to himself, sitting on his haunches. ‘Probably, the sound is coming from the well!’ uttered Mishra Ji alarmingly.

Holding the hem of his dhoti in his right hand, with little beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead, Mishra Ji quickly hurried towards the well. The well was located in a far corner across the courtyard. When he reached near the well and peeped inside, he gave a loud cry, ‘Hey Ram, Hey Ram… .’.  His wife taken in alarm rushed to the scene, and stood there in cold blood.

The donkey belonged to the dhobi from the neighborhood, who had now joined the couple, along with the other neighbors and the boys. The poor soul watched the animal with teary eyes. Each person, standing round the perimeter of well, claimed ways of the animal falling into the well but none suggested any means to save the poor soul.

The Mishra’s stood worried. ‘What if the animal dies inside the well?’,’ Where will we get water for our daily needs?’ whispered Mishra Ji’s wife in Mishra Ji’s ears.

The well’s water was used by the Mishra’s and the neighbor’s for their household chores and for drinking purpose.  Mishra Ji requested a few of his friends, but all denied. Finally, he let a sigh and with a heavy heart announced an award of rupee five to whoever, who got the donkey out of the well.

Seeing the sullen faces of the Mishra’s and the poor dhobi, Ramesh came forward to their rescue. Ramesh was the most mischievous of the five. He always enjoyed sending the Mishra’s on a rampage. But, this time he couldn’t hold back himself. He couldn’t let poor soul die. He asked Tribhuvan to quickly get the rope from their cottage. When Tribhuvan appeared with the rope, he quickly tied it along his waist and asked his friends to lower him into the well.

Once, he was close to the donkey he asked to lower another rope, which he tied around the donkey’s stomach. Meanwhile, the poor soul brayed consistently. With all their might, the others pulled Ramesh and the donkey out of the well. Mishra’s finally let a sigh of relief.

In the evening five playful souls could been seen laughing heartily and savouring a pot full of gulab jamuns, sitting on the verandah staircase opening in  the courtyard