Shadow Of The Black Rose

9. BACK TO THE BASICS

    Raman looked cluelessly at the empty road, reckoning what Arun had meant. He knocked the door, and Uncle Prem's bitter rattling disrupted the silent evening, "half-witted ... coming this late,"

    Uncle Prem flung the door open and continued ranting, "Do you even know how much trouble you cause me ... you little careless fool," Raman took a step in and went straight to his room. The door locked from inside. Prem banged against it raging to break the door, "answer me... where have you been? Who will pay your bills? Kajju is not a soft one to mess with. He will squash you, and I'll not stop him,"

    Usually, Raman had taken such rantings quite decently and slept over them. But today, he was sitting by the window and mulling with Uncle Prem's words echoing in his ears. When the bellowing had stopped, he stood on his feet and clicked the door open. Prem was halfway away from the door when he heard it creak. Truth to be told: Uncle Prem was not expecting it. Usually, the door never opened, not until the morning after. But today, Raman was standing looking gravely at Uncle Prem. Uncle Prem wheeled around, his face swelling(as it always did when he thought hard), to have another round of howling when his heart sank —

    Raman stood glaring at him, his face glinting in boldness — boldness never seen before. He walked toward Uncle Prem cooly and said, "Uncle, it has been great living with you. But from now, I would like to live by myself. I have learned finances from the best... you, and I am sure I will not shame you. So, you can leave anytime you want for your village." He turned around and went back to his room, shutting the door behind him.

    Uncle Prem stood there shell-shocked, gazing at the closed door as if it was going open again. But it did not. He sat on the sofa by the kitchen and waited and waited, for it to open — for Raman to come running to him. But, nothing happened.

    The morning Raman arrived from his room, dressed up for the day, blooming like a newly blossomed sunflower. He greeted heartily, "Good morning, Uncle, hope you slept well... journey will be tiring ..." looking down at Uncle Prem, who was still in the same spot, by the kitchen on his sofa. Uncle Prem opened his mouth, but words went back in. He could not understand this new version of Raman, standing in front of him. He kept on pondering what had happened in those two days — he went missing? What made the boy who was just two days before following his footsteps, now taking charge like a grown-up? But that was left to his imagination. He sat there peering at Raman with his weary eyes, shocked and wordless.

    "Uncle," called Raman, to bring Uncle Prem into consciousness.

    Prem jumped on his feet and stood like a war soldier called on duty. He took a deep sigh in agony and said, "Oh! I'll go ...

    Raman beaming in a new spirit, took off for his daily work. He walked by the mountains mulling over his last two days: everything that had happened, Gunka, Arun, the monal. He went on to work for the florist. It was a bright day, and sales were high. Returning home at night, he saw the monal lurking by the porch of his house. The lights were off, signalling Uncle Prem had left. Raman leaped on the porch, where the monal stood. It flapped its wings to greet him. Under the wings, on its left foot, was a little parchment tied. Raman carefully untied and unrolled it.

    It read:

    Raman

    In you, I have found one true friend. Hope you are well. Monal will visit you often. I am safe in       my shack. Will see you soon, I hope.

   Don't forget to open the red pouch. Wish that will do any good.

    Arun