“Bheeru! Bheeru! Where are the goat kids?” Misry asked entering the mud house.
A dark skinned bald boy appeared. “Come, I will show you! I am sure you will love them.”
He escorted her to the backyard. There under the shade of the mango tree were the goat kids, two just like the nanny goat, black and white, while the third one was completely white. Misry watched them suckling milk. After taking feed the trio were hopping and jumping while the nanny goat stood on vigil.
Misry ran to grab the white kid but it jumped off and ran away. She didn’t give up and ran after it. While she ran she didn’t take notice of any other thing coming on her way. She just blindly followed the white kid that ran much faster than she had thought. Bheeru watched them silently and didn’t utter a word. Misry took a jump to catch the kid and landed upon the chuncks of Amiyas, spread across the yard on a clean sheet, to make pickle. The small slices of the Amiyas were smeared with soil and the pickle masala that was now all over her frock.
Before she could understand what went wrong, Bheeru raised an alarm, as he knew his mother would beat him for not taking care of the Amiyas. So he made sure Misry was caught red-handed.
He started shouting,“Ma! Ma! Look what Messy did?”
The lady came out shouting of the house and found Misry struggling on her feet. Her knee was bruised and her dress smeared with Haldi. Misry knew she would be scolded badly. So she started crying pointing to the bruise in her knee.
The lady forgot about her Amiyas and helped the little girl up on her feet. She tried to console the child and started yelling at Bheeru instead.
“You good for nothing boy! Come and push the hand pump now so that I can clean up her frock,” said the lady. Later she said sweetly to Misry, “Don’t cry Messy baba. I will put on a medicine.”
Bheeru obeyed his mother muttering under his breath, “What did I do now? You should tell her? I didn’t do anything.”
“Don’t talk. Push more.” she snapped and Bheeru obeyed quietly.
She took Misry to the hand pump and started rinsing her frock with the water. The handle was pretty tight so Bheeru had to literally hang onto it in order to pump out the required quantity of water for Misry’s frock.
Bheeru did not utter a word. He knew what he had to do, to take revenge. He made up his mind that he won’t let Misry near the white goat kid again till she begged him forgiveness bowing on his feet.
The thought put a smile on his face.
Back home, Misry was lying beside her mother for an afternoon siesta. She hardly had the habit of sleeping in the daytime fearing she will have no sleep at night and have to fend with the ghosts alone. It gave her goose bumps.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” Madhavi crooned softly in Misry’s ears and she closed them immediately. Madhavi patted her gently humming a lullaby. Misry thought of the white goat kid. – How it jumped, how it ran, how it suckled its mother.
Before Madahvi could understand, Misry crawled up on her four limbs and started pushing her head against her mother’s breast.
“What are you up to now?” Madhavi asked.
“I am a white goat kid and it’s my feed time. Could you please let me suckle? ” saying she was back to pushing her head against her Ma.
“Misry! What are you doing? I will get hurt.”
“Maah…Maaah..Maah!” She mimicked the goat kid.
“Ok. So you are a White goat kid. What else can you do? ” Madhavi asked deliberately to divert Misry’s attention.
Misry jumped out of bed and started running all over the house shouting, “Maah..Maah”
She went to Raju’s room. He slept peacefully with his mouth open. Misry made two horns bending her index fingers on either side of her head and jumped on the bed. Before Raju could realize what was going on she started punching the finger horns in his stomach saying, “Maah…Maah.”
Some people are more prone to tickles than others. Mere display of fingers can activate the sensation in their body rather than the actual touch. Raju was one of them.
Misry knew it and tickled him more. Raju burst into uncontrollable laughter begging, “Stop it now.” But Misry was in no mood to obey.
Raju’s laughter and Misry’s mimicry had messed everybody’s siesta in the house. They all yelled together, “GROW UP MESSY.”
*Glossary: Amiya– small unripe mango masala- spices Haldi- Turmeric
This is #day2 of the AtoZblogging Challenge throughout April.
26 stories in 26 days. I am attempting very very short stories series with GROW UP MESSY – The sweet sour story of a 5 year old girl. Follow my blog for the next story.
You can read the Firstpost in the series here.