Chandu

A young boy growing up amidst the ruins of antiquity grapples with the bleak realities of his modern-day life. Sometimes a cheerful, unassuming honesty is all one needs to make it through the day.

Chandu touched the smooth, cold stone that was thousands of years old, even older than Parmar sir, his teacher. Parmar sir knew everything. He looked as old as the temples also, but the temples were better. They did not tell him what to do. They let him come and go as he wanted.

His mother was always tired, his father was always drinking. Only his three dogs, Sona, Chandi, and Hira, stayed with him all the time, playing, running, wagging their tails. 

Chandu heard voices. Two foreign tourists with backpacks were coming, looking at a map. He took off his slippers and ran to them.

“Hello, sir! You want guide, madam? I show you all temples, darwajas, and talaos.”

“No thank you,” said the woman.

“I am best guide in English. I can show you good photo places also.”

“We have a map,” said the man as they walked past without stopping.

“Have a good day,” he called out after them, watching them disappear over the hillock.

Then he saw it, the passport on the path. It must have fallen out of the backpack pocket. Chandu snatched it up and started running. “Hello, sir! Wait! Madam! Your passport!”

Chandu reached them breathing heavily and holding his hurting side. “Sir, your passport.” he said, holding out the dusty passport.

“What! Oh!” said the man, his hand feeling the open flap of his backpack.

“Thank you so much,” said the woman.

“Here, this is for you,” said the man, pulling out a hundred rupee note.

“That’s not even a dollar,” the woman chided gently. “Here, take this,” she said to Chandu, pulling out two thousand rupee notes.

“Thank you very much!” Chandu said, with a shy smile. “You want to see temple?”

“No, thank you,” said the woman. “We need to head back before it starts to rain.”

“Big shop near the ropeway has very good hot chai-tea, samosa, and Bisleri.” Chandu said, “tell him my name, Chandu, he will give discount!”

“Thank you again,” said the woman as they hurried back. 

“Bye for now,” said the man.

“Have a good day!” Chandu called out as he watched them fade into the drizzle.

Chandu walked back to the temple. Rain had washed the smooth, cold stones and made them glisten. Tiny drops of water in the cracks sparkled in the evening light. Parmar sir said water had surface tension. Maybe surface tension made the water sparkle. Maybe stars were also drops of water in the sky. Maybe Parmar sir would know.

Tonight his mother would be able to rest and sleep. His father would not have to beat her for drink money. Parmar sir did not know how to do this, he did not teach how to make money. Chandu slid his feet into his slippers and leaned back to touch the cool wall. Sona, Chandi, and Hira started playing. Chandu smiled. Soft clouds had filled the sky. “Want to eat samosa?” he asked. They wagged their tails.