For Pavan, the mysterious disease that was supposedly killing hundreds and thousands of people in the world was quite insignificant.

He had heard on the radio that morning that 20387 people had been diagnosed today; that all schools and shops would remain closed for 2 weeks and a special train was arranged the next day to bring migrants back. None of this meant anything to Pavan, whose lifestyle and routine was almost unaffected by the serious tones in which the voice on the radio spoke these days.

Almost unaffected, because there were a lot fewer music programs he could listen to, and everyone on the radio was in some way or another reporting the way this disease was killing people, making them sick, and taking away their livelihoods.

“Finish your tiffin and join papa in cutting the firewood”, Pavan heard ma’s voice calling out to him from the kitchen.

Stuffing the last piece of roti into his mouth and washing it down with a glass of chilled lassi, Pavan ran outside with his small pickaxe.

2 hours of cutting, splitting the bigger logs, tying them together, and loading them on the bullock cart later, papa and Pavan had enough firewood to last them for the next 2 weeks.

Once the cart was filled, Pavan loaded his pickaxe at the back of the cart and ran off towards the marble rocks to bathe. Living on the banks of the Narmada river sure had its advantages as far as he was concerned.

Dusk was almost upon him, and the dwindling light painted the white rocks in hues of yellow and orange, and red.

Climbing down the cliff with nimble feet, he reached the bottom, and jumped right into the water with a gleeful leap, only to be splashed with water immediately. Turning around with the agility of a fish, he spotted Kishore trying to swim away from him. He immediately followed.

The boy’s game lasted well into twilight, and by the time they finished, they were all tired out. Crawling onto the sandy shore further downstream, they lay with their backs on the warm sand. The cool evening breeze provided a lovely relief to the humid day.

“How was your day?”, Pavan asked Kishore.

“It was fun. I found a squirrel in papa’s fields and brought it back home. It had hurt its paw. Ma applied a herbal paste and let Anil eat some nuts, but she released Anil back into the fields in the evening”, Kishore narrated with a sigh and a shake of his head.

Just then, the boys heard the sound of bangles and carried their way by the evening breeze. They turned around to see an old woman, arched back and wrinkled face, walking slowly towards them.

She wore a faded saree, yet the garment and its owner had both seen better days, obvious from the splotches of colour holding on to the cotton strands, refusing to fade away. Her hair was grey in some places, yet shining black in others. She held a bamboo basket in her hand, supporting it with the side of her hip as she walked; covered with the same family of cloth that her saree came from. When she smiled, a few yellow teeth stood like solitary pillars in an abyss of darkness.

Spotting the two boys staring at her, she quickened her pace and began to shuffle toward them. Reaching the boys, she sat down with a groan.

“Please bring me some water”, she asked in a voice barely above a whisper while holding out a pitcher in her calloused hand.

Pavan took the pitcher from her hand and ran to the well to fill it with water. Kishore helped her sit comfortably, taking the bamboo basket from her hand.

“Here grandma, please drink this water.”

“Thank you, beta. Here, eat these juicy mangoes in return for your kindness”, the old lady said pulling out two mangoes and offering them to both boys.

“Don’t be shy beta. I am just like your Dadi”, she added, noticing the glance of hesitation that the boys exchanged with each other.

Abandoning any shyness, Pavan and Kishore sat on either side of Dadi, and grabbed a mango each, relishing it while drops of the sweet juice kept dribbling down their chins.  

“Where are you coming from Dadi?”, Kishore asked with innocent curiosity.

“I come from a place far away, on the other side of the world.”

“Have you seen the whole world then?”, Pavan asked with wonder.    

“Yes.”

“Do you know about the mysterious disease that is killing people in the world?”, Pavan asked again, remembering the news he has heard that morning. In his eagerness to show this old lady he knew about the world, he added, “It killed 20387 people today.”

“20389 beta”, the old lady whispered, and then raising her voice a little she continued, “Yes. I have seen young boys and girls, old men and women, all succumb to the disease and die.”

“But you are still healthy”, there was awe to Kishore’s voice, “even after meeting so many people who were affected by the disease”  

“Beta, I am a simple old lady.”

There was a sudden gleam in her eyes, which, had the boys seen it, would have sent shivers down their spine.

“Anyway, let me go on my way. Beta, go home safe, it’s almost night”.

The old lady got up, helped along by the boys, picked up her bamboo basket, and readjusted it on her the side of her hip.  

“Thank you for giving this old lady water beta, may god bless you”, the old lady called out, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

“Good night Dadi”, both boys chorused together.  

The next morning, Pavan woke up to songs on the radio. Shouting with glee, he ran into the veranda, enjoying the music and the winds dancing through his hair.

Kishore joined him, and both boys ran off towards the marble rocks for their morning bath.

No one saw them, except the wrinkled eyes of an old woman who looked just a fraction younger that morning.

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Hi reader!
(All picture credits to google) Thank you for giving this my story the time of your day. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I have used a few Hindi words, so for those of you who would like to know their meanings, here goes –
Papa – Father
Ma – Mother
Beta – Son, here used as a form of endearment
Dadi – Paternal Grandmother

Stay healthy, stay safe
Lots of love,
Anvita