“Baa, Gattu humare saath nahin aaya”.
I can faintly recall that scene and how the entire family had ran helter-skelter for his search. Most of us might know who Gattu and Baa are. Gattu was mentally underdeveloped. But nevertheless, loved by all. So when he was lost, and too under the eagle-eyed watch of Baa, it was pretty heartbreaking to see the pain in her eyes, and the innocent question mark lurking in Gattu’s eyes when he was asking strangers for simple things like “aapne mere ghar walon ko dekha hai. Wo aise dikhte hain, badi si gaadi main aye the, aur main peeche reh gaya”, or when his eyes were glancing on some food plates as he roamed hungrily, or even when he was crying ”mujhe mere Baa ke paas jana hai”. I had felt a lump when he was given shelter by a lady who took fondness of him.
That was all fiction and most people may not understand the gravity of the situation.
Gattu could atleast say it, though a little. In real life, my Guddi couldn't communicate.
My Guddi has always been a person who doesn’t know most of the humanly normal things. Some of us see it as sheer ignorance, some of us see it as innocence, and some see it as divinity. But we will have a discussion on this some other day. As of now, I just wish to state an incident. Something, whose intensity I didn’t understand then.
Guddi had always been a lover of the maidservants. She basically is a lover of everything. It’s easy for her to like something. And it’s also easy for her to lose an interest in something pretty soon.
When I was in class 1, there was this young girl Kaanchan who worked at our place. And Guddi would give her company all throughout the time she worked. She would sweep the floor and clean the utensils with her. Even if it meant that Guddi would end up eroding one whole Vimbar for just one plate (which as a matter of fact, might be have been clean beforehand). She was also known for finishing off the whole detergent bar, for cleaning just the collar of Baba’s shirt. But we always loved that happy look on her face when she would look gleefully and say “Bou, mu sapha karuchi ” (Maa, I am cleaning).
That evening too Guddi was following Kaanchan all over the place. After she was done, she said “Maa, Guddi ku mu se ara babunka gharaku neijauchi bulei, kama sarila pare aniki chaadidebi.” (Maa, I am taking Guddi out with me to the other Babu’s place. I will drop her back after I am done at their place). Maa was fine with that. What harm can happen in the neighborhood?
After a couple of hours Kaanchan came casually, and asked “Maa, Guddi pheri asichi ta?” (Maa, Guddi has returned, hasn’t she?)
The question took some time to sink into Maa’s mind.
What is she saying? And why is alone? Where is Guddi?
“I was working at the babu’s place, and Guddi was playing in their verandah, sweeping the place with a broken broom. After sometime when I returned from completing my work, Guddi wasn’t there and the door was open. I thought that Guddi has returned back, and I came here to confirm”
“Hey Raam!!! Are you insane! How will she ever know where she lives! You don’t have the commonest of sense in your mind! Are you mad”. Ma was heard saying out something like this.
I was not knowing much about what was happening. I guess I was watching TV. But all that I could make out was that Guddi was lost, and Maa was worried. It wasn’t the age of cell phones and landlines had just started seeping into the regular households. But we hadn’t been one of those people. Baba was at office. And he was to be informed immediately. We had moved into the place just a couple of months back, so we were new to the capital city.
Somehow Baba was informed of everything.
As I can recall a bit, the house was left mere bharose. And what followed was silence in the house. I am not used to such a restless silence. Out house is always a mess, all shouting and screaming happening all the time. The only time there’s silence is when someone is asleep or when someone is sad. Else, it’s always like someone is mad at someone, someone is irritating someone (that would be me irritating Maa or Guddi), Baba ranting on his endless do’s and don’ts, or Maa complaining about the 1001 ways in which i am doing mistakes in my life. In short, it’s a lovable indispensable and to-die-for commotion which prevails when all are in house.
I was sitting quietly and I looked out into our puja ghar. This rented house had a separate room for the Gods. I and Guddi were tiny enough that we could both snuggle into that tiny room and do our puja, our way. I entered the place, and sat with folded hands.
I have never been a very staunch follower of the said principles while praying, but whenever I do pray, it is a personal conversation. This time I just asked “please bring Guddi back home”. And in a unconventional way, I put on a used black beaded necklace (which Guddi used to play with) onto His photo frame. I said “I have given You this. Now please give back Guddi”. Such was my simple prayer,
I don’t remember how many hours passed. But it was dark outside. And I heard some noise coming downstairs. Abani uncle was talking with someone and was climbing up holding Guddi in his arms. and Guddi was holding a balloon.
I was a little surprised, but as I said, I had never realized the seriousness of the situation. I was totally under the impression that, Guddi has gone out, and Maa and Baba wil obviously find her out. And here she was, nothing much to worry. Abani uncle then told me to keep Guddi , as he had to go and bring home Maa n Baba who were unaware that Guddi has returned home. In my own not-so-mature way, I put on a sheet on her, and put her head on my tiny lap, and cajoled her. She was very silent. But she still held her balloon.
After some time Maa and Baba came. I don’t remember much. I don’t remember the cries of joy, or the tight hugs or anything which might have happened.
But what I do remember is that, I had woken up many mornings in the next week, for school, and I had seen Baba wepping silently while he was sipping his tea. He never breaks down. He would just gaze tearfully at our sleepy faces. I didn’t understand.
But I have heard the other part of the story many times over from Maa. The part where I was absent. The part where the search was actually going on, while I was at home.
Baba was somehow informed about her missing. And he had rushed home. Maa had already started off her search. No police were involved. Which person would think of immediately informing the police when they have lost their minds. Maa and Baba had lost their temper.
Maa was wailing and crying out “Guddi! Guddi!” scurrying all though neighboring lanes, hoping that Guddi might answer hearing her name being called out. But deep inside she knows, that such ould not have happened. Guddi is not an immediate person to respond, least of respond to someone calling out to her name. There were people looking out of their balconies, seeing a woman crying and shouting down the lanes. Maa is a very people-conscious person, very prim and perfect. But as I said, no one was in their right senses. Baba had called Abani uncle as he was a family friend’s brother and he was familiar with the place where we had recently moved in.
Maa says that, Baba is a very silent person when it comes to expressing his feelings. I guess all fathers are like that, but Baba is a bit too much. He would resemble the ideal orthodox patriarch of a royal family, where he is the bread earner but not the person to come out and give a hug to his kids daily or hear their tales. That’s what I felt, but he was always lineint to Guddi. And as Maa says, his love had broken through in form of his curses. He was cursing and shouting at Maa all through the search. They were looking for Guddi in different places, but whenever they came face to face in their search, Maa was at the receiving end of his fury. “You lost my daughter.” It didn’t matter, how hurt Maa was. Maa was least bothered about what she was hearing at that time.
Everyone had just one thing in their mind. Find Guddi.
And in another place, Abani uncle was looking for Guddi too. On one secluded dark road, his bike flashed on a passing rickshawala. On that sat a small fair girl, alone. He wondered if that girl could be Guddi. He went closer, and yes she was! But even then there was problem. The problem was not that the rickshaw person was a bad guy.
Problem was that he was a good man, who had picked up Guddi as he had found a young girl ,roaming around in the weekly bazaar, who had a puzzled lost look on her face, and was so silent that she didn’t even tell a word when she was asked many times. He had put her in his rickshaw, and had even bought her a boiled egg, but Guddi was so stoned and silent that she just held the plate but didn’t open her mouth even once. Taking pity the rickshawala was actually going to handover Guddi to the local police station and when he saw these two ruddy looking guys, he couldn’t believe that they were related to this poor girl who didn’t even recognize hem. Well Guddi can’t recognize anyone unless she knows and is familiar enough by seeing them visiting our place many times often. And well, Abani uncle was not a decent looking fellow. He was long bearded and had a stocky built, a typical goon look. No doubt he looked suspicious.
But he eventually managed to convince the rickshawala and brought back Guddi saying that her parents are searching for her and that, he can even show the rickshawala her own place where he can leave her only after he is convinced. Maybe that convincing part was going on when I had heard some noise downstairs, when the neighboring people would have testified for Abani uncle’s statements.
Now when Maa states her fears, she shudders at the horrors at what might have happened hadn’t she been found. For simple reasons that, normal kids are lost and are not found even forever. Some get run down by passing trucks, some are sold to real bad people. Some are made handicapped and put into beggary. Many dangers lurked in the dark that evening.
But Guddi returned.
I have never asked Baba about his experience. Could never think of asking him. His teary and helpless eyes has been etched into my faint memory and that doesn’t give me courage to ask him about what she means to him.
Something similar happened many years later, when I was in college. It was on my birthday, and suddenly I find that Guddi is not there. Knowing that she was there a few minutes back, and sensing her absence, this time I ran out of the house. And yeah, I wasn’t walking hopefully and tearfully like Maa. I ran and stopped at the end of our lane and was going to take one of the two roads that lied before me, when Maa called out “come back, she is at home only”. She had gone to the bathroom, without anyone’s notice.
As I drank water, and caught my breath, Maa smiled a bit and said “I know that Guddi will be in safe hands, when I saw how desperate you were to see her missing”.
Maybe it sank into me, the feeling which. Maa n Baba had undergone that evening. Maybe I understood a bit.
