Murmur of the Lonely Brook Read Online Free Page A

not want Ria to explore his possessions, as the two packets of maggi were right on top. He wanted to give them to Nisha at a more opportune time.
    “Aama, I am hungry.”
    “Nisha, give him food, and eat fast so you can come with us to the field.”
    “Aama, let him rest. He walked all the way from Sangla,” said Nisha.
    But before Parvati could say anything, Diwakar said, “No, no, it’s okay, I will come with you.”
    It was a month since he had seen Nisha and he hated the thought of spending a day alone at the house. Nisha smiled and gave him a dish of pancakes and vegetables. Ria would eat later before going to school.
    Armed with sickles, the procession left the house. In the lead was Diwakar followed by Nisha then Parvati, followed by the kid and the lamb. Ria waved at them from the gate. She was happy to be alone as this provided her some private moments in front of the mirror. She ran inside and saw her brother’s bag on the floor. Diwakar had forgotten to set it aside in his excitement. Ria thought of checking it out but the mirror was calling and time was running out. She needed to check for any changes after using the cream for the last two days. But she noticed nothing except for a bit more smoothness. She decided to ask a few of her friends if they had seen any changes. After putting her hair in pigtails, she was ready for school. She picked up her book of sketches on her way out the door. She had lost her pen two months back but she was not bothered; school was just a daily routine. She was in standard eight and, like most of her friends, knew the tables up to five, the alphabets in Hindi and English, and a few poems. Standards nine or ten were not much different. Nobody worried about the exams, as all would pass provided they attended regularly.
    The farming team hit the road and crossed into the field. Parvati had a hard time looking after the kid and lamb, which ran here and there to check out the grass and the vegetables growing around. The road went down to the river and then ran parallel to it. The monsoon season was still active and the river was full. The mountain streams that fed the river ran in torrents now, making a great noise across the pebbles and splashing against the age-old rocks, some yellow and some dark. Clusters of wildflowers bloomed near the edges and the wagtails and flinches made merry catching insects on the small banks that formed behind the rocks. The road followed the river for a while and took a turn toward the hills below where the fields for farming lay.
    The road was more a pathway than a road, as very few vehicles came this way except to collect boulders. Pines, oaks, and the occasional bhujpatra lined both sides of the street. Owners marked the boundaries of their fields with piles of stones and boulders collected from the riverbed. The path ran between them, winding down the hillside like a large serpent, its skin decorated with numerous puddles shining from the sunlight that came through the trees. Petunias, cosmos, violets, and wild dahlias filled the crevices on both sides. The wild grass was tall and wet while some of the blades still held on to a few drops of rain.
    Diwakar smelled the wet earth and looked around. In the city it was difficult to find a proper tree and they looked very different in parks and on the pavements. Trees in the wild were distinctive; each one seemed to have an identity and together they lended character to the terrain. He looked at Nisha walking in front, her long hair tied in a tussle running up to her waist. Like most other women, she was wearing a green topi, and he knew that in the folds she carried a needle, some money, and the key to her suitcase, which contained nothing but a few storybooks, a picture of Lord Krishna and a scarf given to her by her aaya. A gray woolen shawl was wrapped across her shoulders and tied close to her bosom. In the shawl she carried their lunch, a thick rope to tie firewood, and a flask of salted tea.