BANGALORE: He greedily gnawed at the laddoo in his hand. The light from the diyas accentuated his hook-shaped nose, the generously eyebrowed forehead, the cascading eyelashes. I realised that adolescence had set in and the immaculate innocence was getting eroded. Astuteness, born out of his travails in life had impinged upon his innocence. What remained unchanged was his inquisitiveness, his ambition to become a veterinarian and his faith in me.
Gopi worked as a cook in my neighbour’s house. Apart from his culinary skills, he was adept at repairing electrical appliances. Amazed at his prowess, I asked him how he had garnered the knowledge about electrical circuits and wires. It made me realise how a troubled childhood compels one to tread on the most dangerous paths in life.
For privileged people like us, listening to such experiences clouds the mind with terror, so much so that we tend to perceive them with a kind of an indifference, which is born out of the conviction that such episodes cannot happen in the fortified world. He had fled from home at the age of six, after the intoxicated devil he called his father had tried to kill him. Hunger pangs led him to work in a shop that sold and repaired electrical appliances. The knowledge of this reached his father’s ears and Gopi boarded a train to Ranchi. He found work in a tea stall where he met my neighbour and was hired by him as a cook.
I had always been immensely intrigued by how mature he was for a child of his age. He was happy to find someone to talk to. Whenever he was not bound by the instructions of his employer, he would talk to me and my mother for hours. His love for my pet dog, Sherry, which was reciprocated in equal measure, bolstered his rapport with my family. His happy-go-lucky nature was infectious.
It was the morning after Diwali when Gopi left Ranchi. His mother had met with a fatal accident and his elder brother had come to take him back. I tried my best to not let him go. I called him the next day pleading him to return so that I could fulfil my promise of sending him to a school. He replied, “Didi, zindagi bhar to bhaagte reh gaye. Aaj bhi bhaag rahe hain.” Today, on the eve of Diwali, his melancholy voice reverberates in my ears, the image of him eating the laddoo resuscitating my hope of being able to see him someday.