Choushen & Ushen

           The material available to a writer in India is limitless. Endless variations are possible on the account of inherited cultures; every individual differs from every other individual not only economically, but also in habits, outlook and day-to-day philosophy. Under such conditions, a writer has to only look out of his window to pickup a character... and thereby a story! I start my blog by dedicating the first post to a girl- Ushen, about whom I wrote looking outside my bedroom window.

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Prologue
1st of October, 2007

            It was time to attend the 1:30 UNIX class. As I set out from home and passed by her place of dwelling, I saw it was gone. Razed to the ground. The walls were originally brick red, which was hard to tell as it was all rubble now. For a moment that lasted like many years, I stood there, unable to believe my eyes.

Bare Beginnings

            I remember them staying there from the August of 2006. Our first contact was an interesting one. I remember how ecstatic I had been that day, when I laid my hands on my brand new red-bodied Discover-125. It was 10 o'clock that night when I took my bike for a spin much against my Dad's advice to wait for daylight. The ride was a thrilling one. But, a mongrel pup suddenly appeared out of nowhere and I had to slam the brakes as the pup was about to go under the wheel. I fell down from my new bike in front of their abode. I was bruised and my brand new bike got dented after the very first time I rode it. Her father, who saw what happened came outside running and helped me up. I yelled at the mongrel, who put his tail between his legs and whimpered into the darkness.

That was when I saw Ushen, hiding behind her door and peeping at the bizarre incident with an expression of shock in her innocent round eyes...

          Ushen, a 9 yr old girl, was the eldest among the 4 kids of the Watchman of a house under construction in our neighbourhood. She was the ultimate caring creature for her siblings, always keeping her sisters and kid brother amused when her parents were out for work; or even otherwise. She had a long braid and wore some dress which looked like a Salwar Kameez several sizes short. She always held her infant brother Choushen on her waist and walked around, even (until recently) when he was all heavy and walking! They lived in a temporary shack made of red brick walls plastered with mud, covered with an Asbestos roof. Though it looked desolate on the outside, they kept it spotlessly clean inside.

             Choushen was the youngest, and also the only male child. He was a cute and cuddly infant, and quite fair, unlike his parents whose complexion was of a darker shade. I saw him being pampered all the time by all his sisters and his parents. He always wore nice and colourful woolen clothes, a beautiful monkey cap and shoes which made a whooshing sound when pressed on the ground, while his sisters wore ragged and used clothes with no footware to spare. Could it be that Choushen got pampered so much just because he was a male child? Or was it because he was the youngest? I couldn't tell. I would spend hours at my room window looking at them walk around on the street in front of my house and play their childish games.

            The second one, a clever and business minded girl aged 6 or 7 had a very cunning attitude, always wanting a bigger and better share of anything that they were meant to share equally. She was always hatching some shrewd schemes, nothing evil though! She attended a state run school nearby. The third one was a small girl aged about 3, not cared for enough by her parents, unlike her baby brother. They spoke beautiful Urdu.

The Gift

          At first, I hardly looked at them. Then, I was on good terms with them. Soon, I was asking them to help me clean the garden, handsomely rewarding them afterwards. One day, when I asked her what she would do with the money I gave her, she said, "I'll buy note-books for myself". I was moved.

         Any other kid would've immediately spent the cash on candy and goodies, but not her. I liked her attitude so much that I gave her some of the most prized possessions of my childhood; Special toys I was very attached to, my school bag which I discontinued using just because I wanted a new one, several drawing books and lots of stationery, crayons, sketch pens and drawing material. And of course, my attention and friendship. Then on, I saw a glowing shine of admiration in their eyes whenever I met them.

Will I Make it?

           During the time when my semester exams were going on, She came with a sad, desolate look and told me that they would be leaving on that Sunday. The owners of the newly built house were moving in, and they no longer needed the Watchman. I sensed the gravity of the matter and started mobilizing whatever resources I could manage. I even thought of photographing them and giving them the prints.

But the Sunday came and they were still there.

          The post-exam vacations came, and I became complacent. They were an assured addition to my environment. I couldn't imagine them going away and took their presence for granted. I felt they were permanent. They were always a constant source of Joy to me throughout their time here. But before I could realise, they left.

One Year Later..

             Now, I feel a strange emptiness inside me. Rhetorical questions swarm my mind. Who is going to play around my house all evening, late into the night and create those beautiful noise they made when they frolicked? I can't accept the fact that they are gone and I hope to see them one day...

             I had great plans for them. Alas; I learnt an important lesson in life and I want to share it with all the people who have a helping hand and a philanthropic bent of mind - -

" If ever you want to do a good turn in Life,

DON'T WAIT FOR TOMORROW.. "