Ramu Prasad’s Angel

Then, there was the woods a little way off from the village, a place revered to the villagers, zealously protected and preserved by them  a sacred place where Umang Lai, a sylvan deity, the deity of the village, presided. Many big trees with vines and creepers twisting around the trunks grew there. Most prominent among the trees was a huge banyan tree. Its branches supported by prop roots spread over a wide area. The prop roots had grown very thick and looked actually like trunks, giving the impression of a number of trees growing with the branches joined together. People said, “One night, it started turning into an elephant but could not complete the transformation as day broke too soon.” In the centre of the woods, there was a clearing where a small temple dedicated to Umang Lai stood. Every year Lai Haraoba, meaning merrymaking or pleasing of deity, a festival, was celebrated with much enthusiasm in the summer. During the festival, people from far and wide came to witness and participate in folk dance, race, wrestling bouts and kangjei, a traditional game of hockey played with bamboo sticks. The woods was the only place we avoided while playing. The sight of the banyan tree was so frightening that it sent shivers down the spine and gave us the creeps. Elders of the village also warned us, "Don’t enter the woods. Many spirits, ready to pounce on the unlucky ones, reside there." Only during Lai Haraoba when people thronged to the temple, we entered the woods without any inhibition. … *** People say so much about the beauty of the spring, a time that not only brings to life the withered buds of trees but also rekindles the minds of young and old alike, with renewed hopes. Many a poet has sung the glory of spring; many a painter has frozen the beauty of spring on their canvases. But, none has been able to enliven spring as you have done. Poet’s spring, painter’s spring  all look dull and meaningless to me, who was born and grew up in a small village in nature’s lap. You are the one who had awakened spring in my mind. I spent the whole month at my uncle’s place looking for an opportunity to speak to you. But, luck did not favour me. It may also be put this way that I did not have the courage even to go near you  a coward, I certainly am. I had to satisfy myself with a glimpse of you from a distance. Standing behind the window like a thief, I watched you every morning and evening when you came out of the house to tend your garden. Your garden, a wild splash of colours  beds of antirrhinum, calendula, phlox, nasturtium, gerbera, lupin and carnation all lending different hues; a honeysuckle climbing on an arch over the gate  I still remember vividly. But it was your presence that made the colour of your garden more vibrant. … *** Airborne, I watch the fascinating sight. Down below, London is miniaturising. Everything is scaled down in perfect proportion as in a large exhibition model of the layout of a town. Some of the buildings and monuments stand out perfectly because of their exemplary designs and shapes, reminding me of my bonsai specimens. The bird climbs up higher and higher, and penetrates the white fluffy clouds. Once it reaches above the clouds, nothing except the clouds can be seen and I pull down the shade to shield my eyes from the glaring light reflected by the clouds. Stewardesses start trundling the passage with drink trolleys. I excuse myself for I fear drinks may spoil my reverie I plan to slip into. I plug in the stereo and punch the buttons to select a number. I am not a music fan nor do I have the taste for any particular form of music. Still, I find soft music very soothing. Who doesn't? I close my eyes and let myself to be drowned in subtle instrumental music, allowing it to permeate every limb of my body. In serene contemplation, I put my thought in reverse gears and travel backward in time. …