A Sew Through Time [Bandbudh And Budbak]

Vol VI: 1: Intermission

Vast lush land stretched across two children skipping barefoot over dewy grass. The air smelled warm with rain, grey, quilt-like clouds shot specks of the yellow sun that diluted the greenery to orange.

Among the two, the smallest, jubilant little girl chased the other around the towers, prancing and squealing excitedly. The boy, the chor, ran in circles, getting away before she could catch him. He shot past like a two- legged creature, feet sinking into mud then running again.

The texture of his red synthetic jumper escaped her little hand. He scooted away and disappeared behind the right tower.

"Come back!" she slowed down, abruptly glancing at the school building. Tiptoeing in her squeaky shoes, her cheeks swelled up with air when she shushed the gentle flowers gliding across her knees. If the wind made a noise, she would scold it too.

The grass crunched.

A brightly lit window caught her attention. Situated in the corridor, it's handle rings were gleaming silver from the sun.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Curiosity grappled her. She climbed up the corridor and wrapped her fingers around the ring to open it.

The thumping stopped, unlocked with a squeak and opened inside.

Blocking the panes with the wooden stoppers, the boy placed his elbows on the sill and said,

"What you're searching for is not visible to the naked eye"

Drifting clouds threw enormous shadows on Khushi's blank face. Sounds appeared from the classroom, hooting, talking, paper planes flying.

"If you go back, you'll just be left disappointed" the boy took off his red jumper, "Things remain under the surface so that the playground remains free"

She turned behind, finding the place ominous and dark. The green sky seemed to be reflecting the playground, blowing tiny leaves to her left. A blue line stood boldly against the turbulence.

She did not knew what it was- a line drawn by blue chalk, a stroke of paint surrounding them in, or was it really the edge of their world.

The jumper rustled down.

Khushi's stomach trembled.

The little boy covered his hollow chest, tracing multidunous scars radiating out of the centre and moved away.

"Wait!" With a fit of anger, Khushi rushed towards the door and pounded her on it, then trying to open. There was a single bolt far above her that seemed to touch the ceiling.

The sounds stopped.

She went near the window again and peeked inside.

"Its the same thing that turns around; nothing comes, nothing goes" the little boy spoke behind the door, "But whatever you do... don't lose your trust in them"

Khushi looked behind, finding only the blue line and the stained grass. Colours of the school building leaked from its bright red outlines, slanting crimson tiles and shabby, broken stairs.

Dull blue light filtered through loose curtain fabric. From the fissures of threads between the thin hem that gently grazed the small round table, a shaft of waning light casted over Khushi's face. She sat up in the cold bed, hearing the wind whistling through the panes.

It was early dawn. She heard the sound of a slow, likely older person unlocking the door downstairs and walking out. Wintry air would be blowing through the darkness all night, with the fear of the roof crashing over their heads. By daytime it was bright again with yellowing leaves and subtle hints of rain, which if turned fierce, would claw through and damage their things.

Something beeped.

Khushi was thankful the notification was set in vibrate, else everyone would have woke up and crashed into her room wearing bandanas and holding war-sticks. It was Sabina's phone, the deep ochre, transparent cover holding inside a bus ticket, a passport-sized photo and a one-rupee coin.

Temporarily blinded by the scalding flashlight, she drowsed towards the door and opened the knob inwards. It creaked as loud as the duos snoring. Bright specks of dust flew between the beam of light, disappearing in the darkness at her sides.

She descended downstairs. Moving in the dark, she bumped her toe bumped into the leg of a couch with flattened cushions. Blue light seeped through the aluminum ventilators, fainting into another place.

No filled water bottle was there in the kitchen. It was Badri's task to fill it up last, but as usual he had forgotten about it. An accidental movement almost made the steel bottle drop, but before it would clang and clutter with a million symphonies, she grabbed it and placed it behind the black stove. Coffee and salt was spilled over the knobs.

Returning to the main living room where lived the old CRT TV, she spotted the dinner table filled with a variety of things: a thin green file, a house made of oats, an electric kettle, a charging port; over which was her flip phone.

Keeping the light on the table, Khushi flicked it open. The hinge had gotten loose. Of course it would be, she had always noticed Budh playing with it.

She sat in the dark, discovering her entries gone.