It’s as if he was there at a milky-white temple on a green, cloud-capped hill and the bell started chiming melodiously, increasing in pitch with every new ring. Soon the sound vortexes in into a table clock honestly doing its duty of croaking harshly.
Riding on the sound, the knocks that has increased in frequency and into loud thuds, the old man's soul entered his body from the desolate and peaceful land to this environment of smell, and depth.
The old man puckered his brows. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to meet anybody. People have been nice to him in his life. He really doesn’t have any complaint against anyone. Perhaps, that’s his complaint. He never thought about this important question. That’s a miracle!
The old man again fixed his glance at the distant mango tree. With foliage covered in dark long leaves, the tree resembles a green umbrella. It is surrounded by a few coconut and jamun trees along with a few trees that never bore any fruit.
The mango tree is special among them. When it is heavy with fruits, it sways lesser in wind than her neighbours do. All over her, she is carrying green, round mangoes that should start ripening within a fortnight. She should not be frivolous and dance at any hint of music like other lasses around. Every year this time the tree smiles in utter satisfaction and calmness like an expecting young mother. The old man watches her all day long and utter prayers for her health.
The old man pouted his mouth, ran his hand through his white beard …. “hmmm … why are you here? I told you not to.”
“Why should I listen to you? You are an old man and can’t run like me.”
“Is there a ghost inside?”
The kid jumped down from the window and shot off around the corner. The old man tilted his head a little to follow him but the kid was fast. Now the old man again fixed his stare at the mango tree. He was pleased with himself.
The kid now showed up, trying to stand on his toe and peak through the corner of the window. The old man leaned forward and opened his mouth to reassure him. The kid now stood in front of the window at a distance
The old man smiled.
“So now tell me what’s your name?”
“So, why won’t you let me in?”
He was now swinging from the branches like a monkey.
ghetufool wiped his eyes as they keenly followed every act of Piklu. He watched Piklu chasing butterflies in the grass. He watched Piklu making small paper boats and launching them in the small pond nearby. Piklu clapped as the wind blew, creating patterns on the water and carried the boat to the middle of the pond.
ghetufool watched Piklu dancing in the rain and singing rain-songs the whole evening till the sun started setting in.
Piklu came huffing and puffing.
“Open the door before you become a ghost.”
"No! ..." ghetufool almost threw his hand in despair.
"Oh no! NO!" ghetufool was aghast, he was gripped with fear.
He shall try again tomorrow.