Chinappa wondered why the lake was always blue, irrespective of the colour of the sky. Other water bodies took on varied hues, depending on weather and clouds, but not this one. Even the waves never crashed onto to the shore, breaking gently, as though afraid their force may erode the banks. The lake was the first thing he noticed when they moved into this quaint little town, couple of months ago, in summer. Cricket did not interest him, not especially after mother died three years ago, when he was eleven. A few months before, father had remarried. He now had a younger step-sister and a step-mother, a change he accepted without resistance. He choose to spend his time, sometimes doing his school work by the lake side, rather than home. Father said nothing to him The visits to eastern lake shore was his jaunt, each day after school. It was the bank with a wild meadow and a mini forest beyond it. Except for Chinappa, some goats foraging and the old grass cutter, none frequented this side of the lake, not even stray dogs. The min-forest was not mini, at all, It was spread along the lake shore for eight kilometres and by another ten kilometres perpendicular to the shoreline. It was a protected forest, bang in the middle of a beautiful town. The elliptical shaped lake; the town’s major water supply, was almost as wide as the forest and a little more than three kilometres across. On the opposite bank; the western shore, there were series of gardens with beautiful walkaways, tended by many gardeners, popular amongst the townsfolk. The lake side here was protected by high meshed fence, to dissuade the most adventurous thrill seekers. The southern shoreline had many private orchards, and to the north, the main road connecting the suburbs to down town, lay on a fenced high bank. The lake was the deepest next to the lake road and the forest-meadow Then, there was the grass cutter, a grumpy old man, who never uttered a word but watched Chinappa,
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with the attention of a predator stalking a prey. Even this day, as he walked through the gates of the forest meadow, the old goat noticed him, even though he was, at least five hundred meters away. He could always sense the grass cutter’s hostility for him. Nevertheless, this urban and wild meadow was an oasis of beauty and peace. There were strokes, herons and a variety of migratory birds visiting the lake. The surrounding greenery was a healing poultice to eyes and spirit. The clear sky, soft breeze and deep quiet, he loved them all. Yet this piece of heaven was desolate. Why?, he wondered. The forest behind was thick with closely packed trees like teak, silver oak, and jackfruit among others and dense undergrowth that in some parts included lantana. Yet he did not hear any animals calling out, except for pea hens, and some predatory birds that he knew from a jungle holiday. A road cut across the forest connecting the bisected town, it was fenced all along, with fenced over-bridges to allow animal crossing. One night, he and father took the road, a little after ten o’ clock. There were no cars or people on the road. The streetlights were working only at the beginning and at the end, as the road entered the forest. The only car they saw was a police patrol. The patrolmen asked the duo to cross the woods quickly, citing animal movements. They seemed rather nervous to Chinappa. This was several days ago ‘Does the forest not scare you, boy’ Chinappa jumped, the grass cutter was standing few meters away ‘No, it is beautiful, pristine’ ‘Good to hear that, but don’t ever go into it, it is a dangerous place.’ ‘Why ? Does it have any big animals in it? It is only maybe ten kilometres long not very big to house tigers or elephants ? ‘ ‘A forest need not have tigers or elephants to make it dangerous. There are several, small animals, plants reptiles and insects that can be equally dangerous. They may look harmless, but can cause serious harm to humans.’ Chinappa said nothing, but examined the old man carefully. He was of medium height, wiry and must have been strong in his youth. His skin had that reddish tinge that came with working long hours in the sun. He seemed at least a hundred years old, with his saggy skin hanging several inches from bones, and entirely salt hair. Yet he did not stoop, his sight was clear and sharp. ‘Have you been inside the forest’, asked Chinappa quietly The old grass cutter thought for moments, finally speaking with pain, struggling for words. ‘Several years ago in my youth, when I was a little older than you, with my best friend, Thimma. The forest took my friend, letting me go.’ The world seemed to have gone quiet, listening to the old man. ‘What do you mean, the forest took him?’ ‘We went into the forest to prove a point that was, at the best, irrelevant. It was beautiful and quiet inside, the wholesome air put us at ease. We were caught unawares, when suddenly chased by hundreds of animal feet. As we ran in blinding fear, we were separated, lost to each other. Since it would soon turn dark in a moonless night, I gathered some dry wood for a fire, enough to last me till dawn. In a suitable spot, I lit a fire, with a burning brand examined the nearest tree to ensure it is safe to climb and spend the night. In the darkness with hidden foes, there was no way I could negotiate my way back to our world or look for my friend. I decided to get help from the village, if I made it back. I dozed in my perch, when a sudden bright light like lightening, shook me into wakefulness. From my vantage point, at a distance I could see flashes of yellow, pink and blue lights. As if, multi-coloured lamps had been lit to dispel the darkness. There was also sounds of laughter and merriment. It almost made me to climb out of my perch. Then, a voice, neither male nor female, began to sing, in an unknown tongue. It was so achingly beautiful, that I felt a sharp pain in my heart, I wanted to curl on the floor and let the melody and pain of the song overwhelm me, liberate me from my body. It was not of human origin; the music Our music rejoices the physicality of life on Earth, the emotional bonds, pain and separation of love, bliss of union, glory of nature. This unknown music transmuted pain into limitless joy and liberated being from confines of a physical body and its attachments. They were certainly not human; the music makers. My little fire was now blazing in my head. Then on, I kept a great watch, even though I could not see much, for the canopy of trees hid most from my view.
When the sun rose, I followed its westward path to the east bank of the lake, eventually to my village. My friend was never heard of again. We searched for several days in large numbers, combing the forest the best we could. No trace of him was ever found, clothes, bones, nothing.’ Having finished his tale, the old man was silent, peering over the lake. Chinappa took several breaths to recover from the tale. ‘What is your name, good sir ?’ he asked finally. ‘Marigowda, I have been cutting grass here for several years, none from my village want to work here after Thimma’s disappearance. My children work in the orchards and in the city. I will never allow them close to the forest. And what may be yours ? ’ He asked Chinappa, in return Chinappa was about to speak his name, but he changed his mind at the last moment. ‘ I am Lokesh’ ‘Well Lokesh-appa’, Marigowda said, looking at the boy sharply ‘This forest is not for humans. You would do well to keep away from it.’ Chinappa nodded and left without saying a word, as he was reaching the gate, Marigowda called out to him ‘Oh, and one more thing Lokesh-appa’, and to the boy’s amazement, the old man jogged up to him with energy ill-fitting his age. ‘This lake was here several hundred years before humans made their settlements nearby. It is not a placid body of fresh water, it is an ancient entity, with a subtle personality, that only brings forth its beauty and serenity. Don’t even think of swimming here or anywhere in this lake, there are hidden currents that will drown you or a crocodile may make a repast out of you.’ At dinner, that night, Chinappa told father about the lake, forest and the old man. Father said, ‘There are many things that are around us yet invisible to us. Just because you don’t see, does not mean that it does not exist, like air for example, and the organisms in it, which cause the common cold. One must not discard, what other people say, unless we have strong reason backed by facts and analysis. Many of my colleagues, speak about the dangers of swimming in the lake. There are guards posted by the lakeside, wherever the shore is accessible. Especially by the pump house, to prevent swimmers or mischief makers from reaching the lake. You saw the other day the forest was unusually dense and those policemen were nervous patrolling within the forest. I also find it quite surprising, that there is almost no encroachment on the forest land and this is India ‘ Chinappa and father shared an unusually easy relationship. After mother died, father went the extra mile to fit mother’s shoes. There were no secrets between them. He was happy for father when he remarried, although he was still getting used to Jyothi aunty. It was Gauri, his step sister he found irritating, she stared at him unblinkingly and followed him everywhere. Perhaps that is why he loved the lakeside. At their parents wedding, attended only by his and Gauri’s grandparents, their children and their children, at lunch Gauri walked up to him and whispered that she always wanted a big brother, that she was happy, she had found hers. He was not ready to be her big brother, not for now. At bed, he said to himself, he had not really lied about his name, Granny called him Lokesh, she was faraway in Seattle, with aunty and her new born. Later, she would visit uncle in Vancouver, returning only early next year. It was most unlikely Marigowda would find out his formal name. He seemed too rustic, out of sorts with the modern world and rather occupied keeping a watch over the lake and the forest. Yet Chinappa had a queer feeling, the old goat had not believed him at all. He decided to keep out of Marigowda’s hair, for the next few days. But the forest, oh the forest ! It now seemed like a delicious place to explore, Marigowda’s tale scared and excited him equally and fuelled his desire even more, to explore the forest. The old man’s warning was not forgotten, he certainly, was not lying and seemed afraid narrating a tale that must have been at least fifty years old. Slowly an idea formed in his head. Why not ?, he thought After all she had entrusted it to him for safe keeping and was unlikely to need it for the next few months. He would arrange it as well as he could before she claimed it again. In a worst case scenario, he would use his pocket money to replace her stuff. He lay low for a few days, visiting the lake each day as usual, sitting by quietly in one of the few shaded benches, sketching or engrossed in his school work. The grass cutter kept a sharp eye on him, of that he was certain, even though he seemed busy elsewhere. To his luck, the school benefactor’s hundred and five year old mother decided to leave earth for the celestial plane. As a mark of respect, school was closed for that day. The students rejoiced the unexpected free time, while the school staff, with solemn spirits went to pay their last respects to the benefactor’s mother. There was no sign of Marigowda, at the meadow. This was his one chance. After lunch, when all were napping, he stole away granny’s woollen threads; an entire box full, in his empty school bag, along with a machete, a small bottle of kerosene, lighter, biscuits and a bottle of water. His fully charged cell phone for emergencies was there too, but it never caught any network within the lake premises. At the lake side, he carefully searched for Marigowda. Only when he was sure, the old man was nowhere to be found, he proceeded with his plan. He securely tied the woollen thread from the first ball to a tree branch, closest, to what seemed like a path, into the forest, stepping amidst the undergrowth, under the thick canopy of trees, with a deep breath
