Nisha’s Journey – Part 1

Ajay and Imraan had been best friends since childhood, having shared everything, from their school lunches to their first sexual experiences, with different girls, of course. Now they had both gotten married, and were both successful in their chosen fields: Ajay as a wholesale dealer of consumer electronics, and Imraan as a real estate broker. They had pretty homes, prettier wives, and lots of cash.

They had also started developing a slight paunch. Both said they would start working out, but they could never quite find the time. That seemed to be the one thing they always lacked – time. Nevertheless, once every few months they somehow, even if they had to cancel or postpone appointments with lucrative clients, took out time for their shared passion – biking. Both had got muscular Royal Enfield motorcycles, which they would ride out of the city to the hills or the forest, or some other remote place, and enjoy each other’s company in the calmness. Over time this had become a regular feature, and their wives, and even some of their regular clients knew about this and were always sympathetic when they were requested to reschedule a meeting.

But they are not the protagonists of our story.

Mangat Ram Semwal had worked as a clerk all his life. When he died in an accident at the age of 42, he left behind his illiterate widow, Bala Devi, and two young daughters, Nisha, 14 and Disha, 10. Fortunately for his family, he had been employed by the state government, and after his death, a meagre, but regular, family pension meant Bala Devi did not have to go and clean utensils in houses to feed her daughters, although it did mean that they could not move out of their village to the city.

This was not a big problem, as there was a government run school and ration shop in the village itself, but other amenities were in the city, about 20 kilometers away. That may not seem very far, but without a means of conveyance, it was almost impossible. The only way to go to the city was by standing in the back of a pickup truck that made the trip every Sunday morning, coming back in the evening.

Adversity usually makes an individual stronger, and the same could be said of both the orphaned girls. They could afford a cheap, but decent education, and were growing up to be mature, responsible girls, who not only took great care of their mother, but also worked very hard at their studies so they could earn as soon as possible and alleviate their family from their meager position. Their mother had instilled very good values in them, and they both had developed very high ideals, and knew they would never do anything unethical, even if they had to starve. They hardly had any time for friends, girls or boys, and whatever human bonding they needed or desired, they provided to each other. Everyone who knew them, thought highly of them, and was sure they would someday make their mother very proud.

About two years after her father passed away, Nisha, who had developed nicely into a cute, petite teenager, on the threshold of her sixteenth birthday, although she hardly realised that she was starting to attract attention from the opposite sex. Even if she had noticed, she wouldn’t have cared, so focused was she on her goals in life.

On the eve of their school’s annual day, the girls returned home later than usual to see their mother lying in bed. This was unusual, as Bala Devi was a very active woman. Suspiciously, Nisha went forward and as soon as she had touched her, she discovered that she was burning up with fever. Thinking quickly, she knew there was no doctor in her village, and there wouldn’t be one until noon the next day.

The thought of taking her mother to the doctor in the city popped into her head, but she knew that without access to a vehicle, it would be impossible to carry her. She thought of which of her villagers had a vehicle, but nobody had a car, and her mother could not be taken on a two-wheeler. No, her mother would have to stay. She wondered if her mother could make it till the morning, but another touch of her forehead, and she quickly dismissed the idea.

Without giving it another thought, she asked Trisha to get some water and a wash-cloth and put the wet cloth on her mother’s forehead to make sure the fever would not affect her brain, as she decided to make the trip to the city to find a doctor, and get medicines for her mother to help her till the next morning at least. She hadn’t the least idea how she would get to the city, but she did not think about it; only the image of her mother writhing in the bed floated in front of her eyes.

As her sister started pressing the wet cloth to her mother’s forehead, Nisha quickly undid her hair which were in plaits, letting them fall over her shoulders, and changed into a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt and an old pair of sneakers, aware that she may have to walk long distances that day and her school uniform of a salwar kameez would impede her progress. Her clothes were worn out, but clean. She gestured to her sister, and slipped out quietly into the dark, moonless night.

Nisha went over to her next-door neighbor, who owned a bike, and told him of his situation. After listening patiently, he expressed his sympathy and offered an apology for not being able to help her, and politely, but firmly closed the door. Nisha stood there, suddenly aware how alone she was even in her own village. Why should someone help her? After all, there wasn’t much she or her old mother or kid sister could do anything in return for anybody. Resolutely, she clenched her fists and made her way out of the village, deciding not to call on any other villagers for help.

She knew of a narrow path that ran through the thickly-forested hills, but would cut her distance by half. It led onto a small deserted shanty on the main road where she would be able to hitch a ride from a passing bus. That would mean walking about 2 kilometers through dense forests, but she was determined, and without considering the dangers started down the path.

It was an arduous journey, nut with the help of a little torch, she continued resolutely. Within half an hour, she could see the occasional light of a passing vehicle a few hundred yards away, and this motivated her to proceed faster. Nature didn’t seem to help her though, as almost out of nowhere it began to pour. She did not have an umbrella, not that it would have helped much in the mud and the downpour.

She reached the shanty in another twenty minutes, drenched to the bone. Her clothes and shoes were wet through and through, as she took shelter under the shabby roof, waiting for a vehicle to give her a ride. She shivered in the cold, standing alone in the dark. The city was still another 9 kilometers, and she was standing alone, cold and shivering, in a dark, desolate place, but not once did fear cross her mind, her thoughts focused totally on her mother and getting her medicines.

She had to stand there for just over half an hour before she saw two distant lights in the distance. It took another minute for her to make out that it was a couple of two-wheelers. As they approached, she leapt out of the shelter, switching on her torch and waving her hands, making sure they saw her.

Ajay and Imraan had set off late that day for their biking trip. By the time they had reached their destination, the sun was already setting. Not that they were in a hurry to reach home, but they did not want to get stuck in the hills, especially with a storm brewing. A few minutes after they started, Ajay had a flat Tyre. Both of them were carrying a spare tyre each, so it didn’t change much except delaying them further by another half hour.

By the time they started off again, it had started raining. They went slowly on the narrow road that meandered and sloped through the hills, and had become even more slippery after the rains. Their hands were freezing in the wet, chilly conditions. Suddenly they saw a small figure waving in the middle of the road. Both of them stopped their bikes a few yards away from the shanty.

As Nisha saw the two men stop, she ran over to them and asked if they could give her a ride into the city. They agreed, but they said that they wanted to stop for a short while, to warm their hands so they could get back some feeling in their fingers. Nisha reluctantly agreed without adding another word as the two men parked their bikes just outside the shanty, and all three ran into the shelter to hide from the rain.