A cold morning in December

It was a cold and frosty morning in December. The air was dense and the clouds had smudged the skies somber. The rays of a young early morning sun were trying to break open the cloud cover, casting scarlet wounds across the heavens, bathing the otherwise snow white school building in a melancholy light.

I got down from the rickshaw and entered the school premises. Where was he? My eyes frantically searched for him as I dragged myself towards the main building. There was still time for the assembly. The grounds were full of students loitering around: some were sauntering in groups, blabbering away without a care; others had huddled together on the stairs, struggling to finish their homework; a few had already opened up their tiffin-boxes meant for the recess. Everybody was with their friends; nobody was alone.

Even I didn’t want to be. I was looking for Sid. My best friend.

Sid and I had gotten together in the third grade. Now in the sixth, we had come a long way. Stories of our friendship weren’t legion. Neither of us was really enterprising: we weren’t the pair that got quoted when people talked of ‘best friends’; we weren’t those prodigies or whiz kids everyone raved about; we weren’t those mischief makers teachers publicly punished but secretly adored. We were just two average kids who gelled seamlessly with one another. Although Sid was much better at studies than me, I felt safe with him. I didn’t feel judged and I didn’t feel the need to compete. We talked a lot (not in class). No ground breaking, earth shattering talks. Plain kids’ stuff. Simple and genuine. Perfectly in sync.

Where was he?

I sighted a common friend, and ran towards him. Maybe he could tell…

The day before was the 13th of December and it had been my birthday. Not the regular sort of birthday. Rather, it was my birthday according to the moon calendar – my moon birthday. And my regular birthday was just two days later, on the 15th. That was when you left your uniforms back home and came to school in colorful clothing (everyone should know it’s your birthday); that was when you would proudly stroll around in the class distributing candies, while all the others wished you; that was when you got away with almost anything. The moon birthday, on the other hand, was kind of a private affair. You shared it with only with your family and a few close friends. Nonetheless, I was indeed feeling strangely excited and lucky to get to be the birthday boy twice in three days.

My moon birthday seemed to be full of promise. During the assembly the principal declared that the classes post recess will be free. We all would instead gather in the school grounds for the prize distribution of some sporting event that had just concluded a week before. Icing on the cake. I couldn’t have asked for a better gift from the authorities. Especially when they didn’t know that it was my moon birthday.

Post recess we all assembled in the school grounds and sat down in rows. The prize distribution commenced and we soon lost interest in the proceedings (we hadn’t won anything). It was turning out to be a dreary event.

Suddenly, there was an announcement. Sid and his younger brother were asked to come onto the stage. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows with a ‘what now’ kind of expression. We knew that he hadn’t won anything. And what prize could it be that he and his brother would share? He simply shrugged his shoulders and went up.

A few moments later I looked up at the stage. The principle had bent down and was talking to them kindly, her hand on Sid’s shoulder. His stance was tense; his face was drawn into an expression of anxiety and anguish. All eyes were fixed upon the principal and the two brothers on stage. Nobody knew what had happened.

After a while we saw my best friend and his brother being gently escorted out of the school premises. We could only guess that he was taking them home. When they were gone I closed my eyes and prayed. I asked God for a moon birthday gift: let it all be okay. I swore I wouldn’t ask for anything on my regular birthday.

Those were the days when we still didn’t have a telephone connection at home. Moreover, Sid and I lived quite far apart. (And I wasn’t allowed a bike yet.) So I spent the rest of the day thinking of what had happened to my best friend and eagerly awaiting the next day.

Today was the next day and I was looking for Sid.

I rushed to that common friend I had sighted and asked him if he knew what had happened. He did. And he let me in on it.

He was still giving me the details when I sighted Sid at a distance. I dashed out to him. He stopped short the moment he saw me. I went and stood next to him, not knowing what to say or do. A few moments passed by. And then we resumed walking.

That morning we walked in silence. We traversed the whole school ground many times over. Every now and then I glanced at him just to see what he was feeling like. Did he feel like talking? Did he want me to hug him? Did he feel like crying on my shoulder?

“You know?” he asked.

“Yes” I said.

The day before, on my moon birthday, Sid had lost his mother.

If I have my facts right, she was out shopping and somehow suddenly fell down. To this day I do not know how or why. I remember having heard somewhere that she got hit by a speeding vehicle. I could never muster the courage to ask him. For one, I didn’t want to breach the topic and have all the painful memories flooding his senses up. For another, I felt guilty. My best friend’s mother had died on my moon birthday, a day I had felt excited and lucky about.

I don’t remember much of the details of that day anymore. I don’t remember how I celebrated my regular birthday that year. All I remember is the walk I in the school grounds, on that cold and frosty December morning in the year of 1989 – the morning moistened with frosty tears; the morning with a somber light and a scarlet wound across the skies; the morning when my best friend and I walked together in a restrained silence – a silence that echoed our desolate sense of loss.

I came home that afternoon and ran straight into the kitchen without even caring to remove my shoes. Mom was busy making chapattis. She turned to me and smiled lovingly. I rushed into her arms and held her like I’d never let her go. And then, finally, I cried.