30 TEENAGE STORIES

Crossing The Torrent R.P. Subramanian

Wisps of vapour rose from the meadows in the warmth of the morning sun. We picked our way along the pebble-strewn banks of the stream. There were six of us. Big and burly, Peacemaker led the way. Behind him, in a noisy group, were Bala, Milan, Biman and Leonard with his guitar. I brought up the rear of the expedition. I was the youngest member, and it somehow seemed the right place to be in. 

The others proclaimed their maturity by their knowledge of lyrics, swear words and ribald stories; by the depth of their voices, height of their boots and narrowness of their drain-pipe trousers. I wore a pair of hand-me-down shorts and my wornout shoes were cracked in places. I laughed as loudly as any of them when a joke was cracked even if I did not understand it; and like them I brandished a stout stick to brush aside thorny bushes and swipe at passing dragonflies.

 And so we made our way along the streams  pausing now and then to skip over stones spread across the water or to examine interesting-looking pieces of driftwood and strangely-coloured pebbles. 

The sky was an incredible cornflower blue, dark green pine-forested slopes surrounded us; the valley was filled with the chirping of birds and the gurgling of waters, with the scents of moist earth and damp leaves, wildflower and pine resin.

 Occasionally we would come upon a little pool dammed off from the mainstream by a chance rockfall or a gathering of dead branches; and then we would cluster around and peer into it and see, within its clear green depths tadpoles and waterspiders and minnows and strange translucent worm-like creatures that seemed to glow with a light of their own. At one such pool Peacemaker dislodged a stone and a foot long black snake emerged from beneath and swiftly wriggled its way to safety under a larger rook. I wanted to find it and kill it, but the others laughed and would not let me.

 The valley grew narrower as we trudged along, and after a while we became aware of another sound over the pleasant murmur of the stream. It was the hissing roar of a waterfall. Presently, we rounded a huge rock face and there it was! Forked ribbons of foaming water leapt a good ten feet onto a table of black rock and swept across its surface and down a series of rocky steps to the stream-bed beneath. Ferns, brush and weed clung to the banks; above their dripping foliage were dense thickets and still above lay the sombre preserves of the wattle and pine.

 We settled ourselves on a large boulder above the cascade. Footwear came off, sweaters were spread out, the guitar carefully removed from its case and tuned. The others dangled their feet in the gushing water. I wanted to do the same but found that my legs were too short! After a few tentative attempts (during which I felt myself slip down the rounded boulder), I hurriedly withdrew from the edge and instead unpacked the contents of my satchel—a bottle of water, four dog-eared comics, a rusty penknife, several pears, and a tiffin box containing six thick, butter-jam sandwiches. 

The others, too, spread out their belongings— playing cards, a battered chess board, books, boiled eggs, soggy samosas, an assortment of biscuits and chips, buns and sandwiches, a flask of orange juice another of warm tea, and a huge, slightly dusty slab of cheese. 

We ate and drank, the dale resounded with our shouts of laughter. The guitar passed hands; Peacemaker sang wistful Khasi folk-songs, Milan set up soft accompaniment on an empty waterbottle. The waterfall roared, the bluebottles droned; the sun suddenly broke through the foliage high above and the waters splintered into a thousand fiery mirrors, dazzling our eyes. 

I must have dozed off at some point, because when I opened my eyes a slight chilly wind was blowing down the valley and on the higher slopes the pines were bathed in the afternoon's golden sunlight.

 I found I was alone on the boulder. An instant panic, and then a faint cry reached my ears followed by Bala's characteristic guffaw. I turned and saw that the others were attempting to ford the stream above the waterfall. Indeed, they had already crossed the first narrow ribbon of water and were now precariously poised on the rocks that bordered the second channel, exploding into mirth each time one of them lost his balance. To me, that second channel looked as wide as the Brahmaputra! I shuddered and decided to stay right where I was.. .but at that moment they looked up and saw that I was awake.

 "Come on over here!" they yelled. "It is great up here. Come on.. .if you want any orange juice, that is!" and they waved towards a cluster of rocks near them. I realized, with a kind of sick horror, that they had carted along our entire refreshment supply with them. And that too just when I was thirsting for a mouthful of that orange juice!

 I rose and slowly picked my way across a jumble of rocks till I reached a flattish boulder opposite where they were grouped. All had their backs to me; they were now busy aiming pebbles at a blackened tree-trunk on the far bank of the stream. 

I glanced down. Frothing water streaked past the boulder, inches from my feet. Gingerly I extended a toe but withdrew it hurriedly, amazed at how cold the waters were. Again I gazed across the belt of water, at the brightly coloured satchels that contained not just the orange juice but also several delicious plums and at least two bars of chocolate—unless of course my villainous colleagues had already devoured them! This ghastly prospect, more than anything else, galvanized me into action. I crouched, tensed myself to leap.. .and then, for some reason, looked towards the left. 

Barely thirty feet downstream was the waterfall, a blurry line above which hung a cloud of white spray. Even as I looked, the roar of its waters grew, till it swamped my senses. All of a sudden I became intensely aware of its power, of how swiftly the waters surged past my feet. My knees began to tremble; I drew back a couple of paces, eyes on the water. A twig raced past, spinning madly on the waters. I could almost feel the mighty forces that flung it against the rocks, sent it crashing and tumbling along the torrent before hurling it over that terrifying cataract... 

"Come along, then..." said a gentle voice. 

As in a dream, I looked up. Biman stood on the other side, barely four feet away. He must have seen me wavering on the edge of the boulder and sensed my terror at jumping across this little creek! 

Cheeks burning despite the chilly breeze, I made a great show of wiping my spectacles clean while I desperately looked for an excuse to avoid crossing the water. When I donned my glasses again, Biman was still there.

 "I do not want any orange juice!" I snapped. My voice was shrill and shook just a little bit. Biman nodded thoughtfully. 

"Fine!" He spoke pleasantly and stood waiting. Furious with him, furious with myself and my weakness, I clenched my fists/took a deep breath and prepared to launch myself across the channel... Once again the mad fear overcame me and I froze in mid-step. It was terrible. Frantically, I looked towards where the others sat. To my relief they still had their backs turned; only Biman stood opposite me, looking straight into my eyes, infinite patience in his face.

 I prayed that he would sympathize with my fear, murmur encouraging words, stretch out a helping hand.. .do anything that would give me an excuse to feel insulted, turn away in mock anger and retreat to safety. But no, he just waited there quietly, limbs relaxed, eyes calm and untroubled. 

An eternity passed.

 All of a sudden, the chirruping of the crickets seemed to fade, the roar of the waterfall softened and died. I took a step forward and jumped lightly across the channel. My heel slipped on a mossy stone; I felt Biman's hard forearm against my back, steadying me.. .but only for an instant. I looked up, he was much taller than me, indeed the tallest among us all. He gave me a nod and a kind of halfsmile, then turned and ambled across to join the others. After a moment I followed. 

The rest of that hike is now a haze of fragmented memories. I do recall that on the way back I walked alongside the others. Though I still did not understand most of the jokes they cracked, somehow it did not matter very much anymore.