Mrs. M

What are three objects you couldn’t live without?

Bhaiyaa, me and Chhotu were super excited when father said this time we were going to settle in the mountains “for a year and may be more”. Though mother did not look too happy what with packing and moving the entire household to another location, we siblings jumped with joy. Mountains were so mystical!!

Father had a transferable job which meant frequent travels from one city to the other at regular intervals – change of places, schools and friends. But this time it was way different. We were to reside in the lap of a valley surrounded by majestic peaks.

***

It did not take time to settle down in our new locale. Our cottage overlooked a winding path getting somewhere lost in the woods up one of the ranges of the Himalayas. From my bedroom window I could see the peaks getting drenched in colours at dusk and dawn. The tall deodars stood like stern sentinels around the cottage. Every morning we were woken up by chirping of birds. Every evening cloaked the surrounds with a silence which intrigued us into believing all the bewitching stories that we had heard from our new found friends and neighbours about the mountains.

***

Our friendliest neighbour was Mrs. M who lived down the winding alley. She had a welcoming smile on her face whenever we greeted her way to and fro home. She was always in her garden tending to pots and plants. Her cottage seemed neat and inviting but she was not the one to call anyone inside though she visited everyone else’s. She wore her saree ankle high with sneakers as though ready to rush somewhere. Her snow white hair was tied up in a tight bun. Her eyes always had an impish glint while the cackle of her laughter could be heard miles afar.

I asked Bholu, the know-it-all of our neighborhood, what did the initial of Mrs. M’s name stand for. To my chagrin Bholu, for once, did not have a clue.

***

Mrs. M would visit us often late afternoon when we were back from school, sit in our porch and regale us with funny stories.

We enjoyed her company which was not less than an hour long. It seemed she had a bagful of amusing grandmotherly tales which kept us occupied even after she was gone.

Sometimes she brought with her home baked cookies and cakes which were delicious to say the least. When mother got free from household chores she would thank Mrs. M for keeping us engaged. Mrs. M would only wave a hand in the air and say that she loved our company as much.

***

Kuku was my best buddy in school. I asked him if Mrs. M often visited his home too. He said she used to but now no more. The last was when Kuku’s cat went missing. The visits ended suddenly thereafter.

***

Lately mother had been complaining that her brooms were missing. She had four and all vanished one after the other strangely.

***

It was a week later Mrs. M just disappeared. Nobody had seen her since. I sorely missed her afternoon tales. She was not to be seen in her garden, neither skipping down the alleyway nor chatting in the marketplace.

***

Lately, there was a rumour going round the neighborhood. A funny comet like object was being seen flying past the woods brushing the heads of the deodars. Children were told not to stray outside homes after dusk.

But Bholu did.

He was late from his coaching class. It was late evening. As his house was at the far end of the alley he was hurrying past the woods when he heard this loud swishing noise right up his head. As he looked up some funny object with a bushy tail flew past right across the sky. Higher and higher it went as Bholu stood rooted to the spot mouth agape.

Next day we all pounced on him to describe what he had actually seen. He still looked confused and kept nodding his head. So at the end of it we couldn’t elicit much from him.

***

Quite a few weeks later, one desultory afternoon, me and Bholu were just sitting by the stream our ankles dipped in the running water when Bholu suddenly opened up, “You know Tuku, I am quite sure that it was not a comet.”

“Then what was it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It had a tail.”

“Comets are said to have tails.” I said

“But do they fly so close ? And … and … Make noise like…” Bholu sounded indecisive.

“Like ?” I pressed.

“Like as though laughing…?”

I looked dubious.

***

The comet story subsided in due course overtaken by another juicy gossip. Mrs. M was not to be found in the neighborhood. Some said she had moved up the mountains. Some said she had just vanished. Nobody knew exactly.

But there were nights when the silence of the woods was pierced by cackles of laughter now and then.

You could ask Bholu if you did not believe me.

***

Postscript : My instant response to the prompt was three Ps : Peace, Prayers and Pious Pursuits.

But the child in me took over in a jiffy.

What is life without the three Ms ?

Magic, Mystery and of course Mrs. M ?