Sakura Adhikari
“Teelak! Where on earth are you? It’s time Sheetal will be back from school. I was expecting you to be preparing snacks. But you are there at the tap, playing.”
I heard these words from my mother as I was returning from school. Poor Teelak, he was much younger to me but he worked much before I woke up in the morning. He scavenged the house, mopped the floor, scrubbed dishes and did everything in the kitchen. He was so busy that he seldom had any free time for himself. Every Saturday, I see his pathetic condition. Though younger to me in age, he appears much more mature than my mother is.
As soon as he heard my mother cry, Teelak says, “I am here, Madam,” and rushed into the kitchen to make omelets. By then, I had entered the house. I changed my dress, and as I was entering the drawing room to watch the television, Teelak entered. He said, “Sheetal Babu, I am sorry for being late in serving the snacks today.” I could clearly read fear in his voice.
I said, “Oh no; I just arrived. Did you save some omelet for you?”
Before my question had been fully uttered, he said, “Why do I need it, Brother? I took my meal hardly an hour before.”
At 8 in the morning, as I was preparing for school after lunch, he was sipping black tea, after doing the dishes. When I came back at 3, he said he had had his lunch only an hour ago. As for myself, I had taken two snacks at school, and was here for the third one, the omelets.
Teelak placed the plate of omelet on the table beside the television and left. I stared at him with fixed eyes. His eyes seemed swollen with cold. For unknown reasons, I read his face deeply today. But he has no time to look into my face.
He went into the kitchen and returned with a cup of water in one hand and milk in the other, and placed them on the same table.
“Sheetal Babu, I have some dishes to clean. Please help yourself; I will be at the tap,” he said, completing his request only after crossing the threshold of the door. He slammed the door from outside. I removed the curtain from the window, and look out. I could see Teelak at the tap, putting all his efforts to do the dishes from the morning meal. Dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt, the eleven year old boy Teelak was handling all works at our kitchen and the farm yard.
I remember an incident from the previous year. His father had come to met Teelak. I had seen him quite early in the morning on a make-shift wooden bed under the stairs, curled up from the legs to fit into the bed that was too short for him to stretch his legs. That moment, Teelak was drawing water from the well for my father to take bath.
His father stayed for one night and returned. Before he left, I could see tears in his eyes, when he was talking to my mother. He was saying, “Madam, the boy’s mother died when he was quite young. I have two other little kids at home. I could not send him to school. Please send him to school.”
“He is rather slow in works. When he picks up, he will finish household works quickly. In that case, we can send him to school,” said mother, giving him a capricious assurance. Teelak worked from dawn. By the time I have my lunch, he hardly has time to have a cup of tea. He gets time for lunch at around 2 o’ clock. When could he manage leisure and go to study?
From the wall, I keenly observe him wash clothes. How soon he was done with dishes, and had started washing clothes! His hands, swollen in cold, were running over my clothes. I constantly watch him at work.
My mother, myself, the omelets, and Teelak’s hands — these are the things my mind runs over, one after another. Most frequently, I remembered Teelak’s father, especially his eyes filled with tears. I feel that his dreams to send his son to school were flowing down the tap at our home.
In the meantime, I could feel something cold on my cheeks. Oh, tears were rolling down my eyes! I wipe them with my hands.
In a while, Teelak walks into my room and says, “Sheetal Babu, you didn’t take your snacks. See, milk has become cold too. Why didn’t you take anything? I have come here to collect the utensils.”
“I have no appetite today. You take these things and eat,” I say, giving him a sudden reply.
“I am not hungry, Sheetal Babu. I will give it to Bixo. He is whining downstairs.”
Teelak left the room. I kept staring at him.
***
[Sakura is a student of Grade 8 at Scholars’ Home Academy, Kathmandu.]