Story of a Burning Wick

Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers

To turn on the light. – Dumbledore

 

“You want another story? I mean like seriously? I am literally burning my midnight oil!” The wick  laughed at his own pun he swore never to use again. But it was the third time in the night. The stars above and candle beside him were the proof. Yet, everyone’s gaze were on him. He was an amazing storyteller. That’s why only he was the one still burning while all his other mates slept peacefully. Some young and straightly standing candles like soldiers on a drill looked upon him like an idol. His flame was what drew everyone’s attention! His flame stick to him even in the chilly winds just the way a lover does to his love in the hardest tests of destiny. Oh his flame! Such romantic being

“Got it guys. You  still look up to me so I got to give it to you. Let me narrate this very particular tale of mine. Its astonishingly very plain and commonly but well, it has a charm to  it. Ah, just like me.”

And I jumped. (Oh not me, guys. Diyas and candles don’t jump. I means the lead of this story. Well, not the lead. One of the two main leads. Forget it! I am not explaining more. From now on, figure out on your own)

I closed my eyes tight. I didn’t want to feel what it is like to crash into a still lake from some height and hear your bones breaking one by one and slowly, your breath gushing out of your body, drawing everything out of you like a vacuum. So, I closed my eyes and remembered.

Three days back, if anyone would have given me even a hundred rupee new note, I won’t have jumped into this river. I couldn’t be forced by anyone to do anything. I was a master of my will. If someone would have asked me how was life, it was good, I would reply. It was Diwali’s time after all.  My father’s peak business time. To all those who don’t know, he sold colors of Rangoli. It was in great demand. I heard from someone that these things are not much in use because people in cities buy readymade but huh! Who listens! People always find time to make rangolis even if they are the busiest of people, like in big cities, I have heard.

So yeah, life was good. My younger sister, Ruhi was excited to celebrate her seventh Diwali this time but the first one in which she had plans to do various things. She was excited to see the city’s market in all its charm and decorations. Baba had promised to take us with him during this Diwali to the city. That was the reason why we were hauling ourselves along with big cloth bags stuffed with packets of various colors in a bus packed in all proportion with people.

That day, our father looked strange…quite different. He was the same old man but not the man we knew, but a stranger who was dressed in father’s skin. We could see his face but couldn’t identify it properly. It seemed like the smile had been stolen from his lips and pain and sadness had been plastered on it.

On reaching upon the place, we both helped him set up his stall and after savoring on our packed lunch by Maa, me and my sister were given commands to stay in the market only and not go too far. We both nodded our heads in unison.

I took Ruhi’s little hand in mine and went on a tour of the market. It was splendid. The whole decoration seemed like it was a big wedding of a sahukar or someone. There were sweet shops from which obviously we had to divert our gaze because 1) they were costly and ten rupee coin won’t help much! 2)Eating without permission was still not legalized.

We looked around for some police constables too, of whom we had heard a number of stories about their big, fat bellies and their hobby of removing of stalls of people who had put them up without permission. Baba had been a victim of such constables a few times. But this time, there were none to be seen.

Life was definitely good.

I decided to check on Baba once and asked Ruhi to not go too far from the sweet shop and I knew she wouldn’t.  Her eyes were glued to Kaju barfis. I knew she was thinking of relishing its taste just by seeing it only. When I went back to the stall, it looked completely normal. Same as we have left. And that was the big problem. Baba was sitting in one corner and by the look on his face, it was clear that no customer had come till now. People looked at us like we were a pitiful scene and that irritated me. A person came and start looking at the colors but when I approached him to ask what he wanted, he just sighed and left. I suddenly understood why Baba was sad. I had no words to comfort him and just like from the perspective of money, I was now poor even from the perspective of words.

Then, Ruhi came. With a big, half toothed grin on her face. “Bhaiya, come with me. I want to show you something. Come, quickly!”

She took my hand and dragged me along her. I wanted to stay with my father, comfort him and try to act like a grownup male member of the family. But his eyes were fixed at a far distance. He didn’t look at me. Nor did Ruhi stopped.

Soon, we were standing outside a shop that had beautiful diyas lined up in rows, ranging from small to big ones, from  one colored to multi colored, some even had designs upon them, some had god-like figures on them too. But what caught Ruhi’s eyes was a medium sized Diya, which had various ribbons attached to its outside shell and a beautiful curve at the edge where the wick would stand.

“I want that, bhaiya. Please, buy it for me.” She looked at me, with her round, hazel eyes.

All colors drained from my face. Just by the look of the diya, I knew it was costly, not by normal standards but for me in the current circumstances. I couldn’t ask Baba for any money. The ten rupee coin weighed heavy in my pocket.

I gathered courage and asked, “Bh…Bhaiya! How much it is for?” I asked the shopkeeper.

“Oh this one! Just fifty rupees!” Those words were  lightening that struck me hard.

“Ruhi, go back to Baba. I will come back with your diya.”

Remind me people! If I ever write a  book on my damn life, let me write a big essay on why one shouldn’t make promises that we can’t keep. The promise that I made to Ruhi gave her hope and that promise along with her hope weighed me down.

“Okay bhaiya. You are the best brother.”

I got a few more bags of burden on my back.

She went back and then, I decided to try all my tactics to buy it. I negotiated with that man but still, he didn’t come down to ten rupees.

I knew that he was not the only one owning that diya. I could find it anywhere and so my next plan was to check each and every part of the market. The city market was swarmed by customers, sellers and beggars, by that time. The trio was in perfect harmony in the market. It was only this time that no one had a problem with the other. The sellers gave items at rate what people said so and people even weren’t reluctant to give the offered prices of the items. It was a beautiful scene. Also, whatever ten or five rupees they got as change went into the jholis of the beggars who always made sure to shower their blessings upon people. It was a beautiful scene. But in this holy and utterly serene place, I was the one struggling. Struggling to find the diya my sister wanted.

After travelling the whole labyrinth, I was back at the same shop where I started my journey from.

“Oh. Oh bache! Listen!” Someone called me.  I looked around to see a young man calling me from the shop. I ran up to him.

“Hey, I listened when you were talking to Lala sahib. He has thick skin. Won’t listen to your bargain. But I know a place. You know, the lake – the one at the outskirts of the city. Not much far from here. Go there. There are people selling similar diyas at very cheap rates. You will find your one there only.”

I hugged that guy. He was greater than God to me at that moment. I thanked him and then, ran. Soon, realization dawned upon me as it was my first time in the city and I didn’t know where I had to go to find the lake. I asked many people and then, walked down the path of my destiny.

It was evening and I was drenched in sweat and dust. The cool winds of November blew straight at my face and as I approached the lake, the winds became cruelly colder. I shivered.

I saw the market from a distance. I gathered my remaining strength and ran for the market. But as I closed towards it, I found people running with their items, their stalls and whatever else they could get hold of. I didn’t understand what was happening. I tried to stop a man from running to know what was happening when he yelled.

“GET ASIDE KID! THE HAWALDARS ARE HERE. WE DON’T WANT TO END UP IN LOCK-UPS DURING DIWALI!”

A rocket went up in the sky at that moment and burst with a small poof and then vanished. Just like my luck!

Accepting my defeat, I sat at the edge of a small cliff, my leg hanging in air and the sound of the water below was light and yet it attracted me. The burden of promises and expectations pulled me down too. My mind wanted to let go off things. It was tired of hearing Ruhi’s voice full of expectations and innocence, thinking that I was the best brother she had. I was the worst. I couldn’t fulfill her smallest wish. I stood up and took a deep breath.

…..and then I jumped. Out of nowhere, a hand pulled me. I was thrown on the ground.

I opened my eyes to see a shabby looking face grinning at me. “So keen to die brother?”

I stood up and looked at her properly. She was a girl of around my age. She had wiry, dirty hair tied back in a pony and wore a long skirt and a loose fitting shirt. She had sparkly green bangles in her one hand and a yellow bangles in the other. She also wore mismatched pair of slippers. She had a bag on her shoulder. A rag picker!

“What’s the point dying today? Today’s Diwali. Enjoy it! Look we got so many gifts today. Thanks to the police.”

She pointed out to the place where the market had been an hour back. It was barren land now except some of her other mates who were picking up a thing or two.

“Come Rani. Quick. Or else we will take your stuff too.” One of her mates called.

“No one even looks at Rani’s things.” She shouted back and then, looked at me. “Are you coming or still want to jump?” She asked. I felt like a duty to follow her. She kept humming as she picked up the things. There were all sort of stuff, whatever people left behind from their stalls. Probably, it is a waste to them but here, it was a gift for these kids.

“Huh, a diya! I don’t need it. Diyas don’t burn on water!” Rani picked up one and was about to throw it when I asked for it. It was not the same but it was good. I kept it my pocket.

“Thank you.” I said.

“Oh needless, friend. Consider it a gift from Rani. Rani has a big heart and today is Diwali. I love this festival. I celebrate it with my friends. But look at you, you look like a family folk. Go back to them! Celebrate with them! Why drowning in such dirty lake today? Look for some other day and some better lake, I would suggest!” She grinned and left to find more “gifts” of Diwali.

When I came back to the stall of Baba, it was already midnight. He had slept. Ruhi was sitting, watching some small candles burning. I went up to her and she hugged me.

I handed over the diya but she kept it aside.

“Where have you been? Never go away for so long. It scares me.” She said.

We both sat, poured some oil in the diya and made a small wick and watched its flames till our eyes fell heavy and we slept.

“The light of yours will always be more than this diya. Never let it be consumed by darkness.” She murmured before sleeping.

I smiled, realizing that all this while, I had been standing on the casted shadow’s side of the diya. Now, I  was in the light.