The Boy Under The Sun

Progress is indeed a funny word as most feel. What seems like progress to one person may seem totally regressive to another. The same person may find this progress undesirable some future day. For two people tied back to back, one’s steps in the forward direction are backward for the other. In other words, progress is relative. It is relative to the person, the place, the time, the date, the season and so many other aspects of our existence that make this universe so complex. A universe so complex in fact that it’s complexity escapes us entirely, or we choose to block it out. After all, we have better things to do than wonder about the complexity of the universe. So too did the sun, that cold January morning as it rose over a slightly cold city in southern India. Slightly cold because the sun was never around to see it when it was bitterly cold, just as it is never around on a pitch black night. This too is part of the complexity of the universe. The sun crept slowly along the skyline, appearing to be drawing further away from the filth that existed in the city, yet smiling warmly on the more decent inhabitants. The warm rays penetrating the darkness of the previous night made the cold grow slighter, until one actually felt that the temperature was quite pleasant. If one could only stand in those wonderful patches of sunlight forever, feeling the bliss that comes over a person when immersed in that warmth up to their shoulders; but one cannot. The complex universe wasn’t designed so that one could simply while away their time. Anyone whiling away their time in this manner would simply feel their backs grow warm and then hot to a degree that is unbearable. Then, they would move on to do something else and allow the sun to move on as well, smiling down on the decent life-forms in another part of the world while yet, keeping aloof from its filth, both being a part of this complex universe.

None of this seemed to occur to the ignorant mind of the little boy who was one of the inhabitants of the city which was by now, pleasantly warm. He seemed totally preoccupied with the complexity of his very simple life, lost in his simple little world as he stole out of the back-door to his house and made his way to the gutter in front of the back-door to his house. It was quite clear that he intended to go only to that specific gutter despite there being plenty of gutters near his house. There was one across the street in front of his front door and one on either side of his house, in front of where the side doors should have been; only there were none as this was quite a simple house situated in a complex city. The gutter behind the boy’s front door ran along the perimeter of the compound wall behind his house. It parted ways with the compound wall when it changed direction to envelop the sides of the house because there were already gutters there to accompany the compound wall. It went under the compound wall and remained underground for a few feet before it emerged into the next compound and traversed its length. The gutter actually held no significance to the ignorant eleven year old boy who was preoccupied with the complexities of his simple little world. He was more interested in a bundle of dirty looking rags that lay inside that gutter. Now this would seem quite odd to anyone else present there, had anyone been present there, because the boy was adequately dressed, even if his clothes were quite simple and he constantly had to pull his pants up to his waistline. Unfortunately, no one else was present there as they had other things to do than investigate the interest of this simple little boy in that gutter. The boy extended his hand toward the dirty bundle of rags and poked it, waiting with bated breath for something to happen. The ignorance of the boy was quite apparent from this action, for no simple bundle of rags would respond to being poked. However, for one of the reasons that make this universe so complex, the bundle stirred.  The complexity of this phenomenon failed to register on the boy’s rudimentary mind. On the contrary, it brought a smile to his lips as he moved his hand towards his pants which had slipped back down his waist. He made no attempt to pull them back up. Instead, he slipped his hand into his pocket. With his other hand, he undid this simple looking, but ever so strange bundle. The reason for the bundle’s response to the boy’s poking became quite clear as the boy undid it. In the depths of that simple bundle, lay a small pup. Its eyes had yet not opened. What the pup was doing in that gutter when it should have been with its mother is a question that is too complex to answer. What was important was simply that it was now in the gutter. The boy withdrew a soggy piece of sponge from his pocket. He proceeded to extract a small carton of flavoured milk from his other pocket. He dipped the sponge into the carton of flavoured milk and squeezed the absorbed milk into the pup’s mouth The pup instinctively tried to suck some more milk out of the sponge, but the ignorant little boy withdrew the sponge before it could do so, dipping it once again in milk and squeezing its contents down the pup’s throat. He repeated this process until the carton of milk had been spent. Then, he stuffed the empty carton and sponge back into his pockets and closed the bundle over the pup, leaving just enough of a gap to permit air to enter without the pup’s whimpers to be audible. He then made his way back into the house through the back door in front of the gutter. He disposed of the carton of flavoured milk in the dustbin in the corner of the kitchen where it lay along with other similar cartons. He went into the drawing room of the house, where his father was seated, trying to make sense of the news that appeared in the papers almost everyday. The boy clambered onto his father’s lap, not knowing how busy a man his father was, still lost in his simple little life.

“Father,” said he “Could you get me some more of that flavoured milk in the evening? I really like it very much.” The father smiled, pleased that his son’s simple little mind had at-least been able to comprehend what eluded the minds of most other children; that milk can also be enjoyed as a drink.  He assured his son that he would bring more of the flavoured milk that evening and, after unseating his son from his lap, was once again lost in his complex world. The boy, now satisfied that he would receive a constant supply of flavoured milk, went inside his room to get ready for school. His day at school was quite uneventful. The teachers attempted to introduce new concepts into the minds of the children while the students, in turn chose to pay all their attention to everything other than the teacher. This continued until the peon rang the bell, when all the students turned their attention to the teacher to make sure he or she left the class, and resumed their activities when the next teacher entered. This went on until the school hours drew to a close and the children were allowed to go home. The boy too, went straight home. He crossed the street in front of his front door and knocked on the front door of his house. He entered only after the door was opened and let the maid close it behind him. He let the maid fuss about the state of his clothes and unlike most kids, patiently cooperated with the maid, washing his limbs and face and putting on fresh clothes.  Then, without the patience which he had displayed just moments ago with the maid, he dashed impatiently over to the refrigerator and saw to his utter delight, that his father had indeed replenished his supply of flavoured milk.  Then, once again displaying great patience, he waited until the maid retired to her quarters and stole out of the back door to feed the pup.

The sun had begun to set by the time the boy made his way back through his backdoor. He went back into his room to complete the homework assigned to him that day. He wasn’t really studious by nature, but he knew that he would be allowed to stay up longer if he did his homework without being told to. After all, he had to pay another visit to the pup that night. The pup was hardly a week and a half in age. Most mothers do not venture far from their offspring when they are of such a vulnerable age, leave alone allowing little boys to foster them. So it was quite unlikely that the little boy had carried the pup away from its mother, or that the pup itself had wandered away and wrapped itself in a bundle, leaving just enough of a gap to allow itself to breathe. Still, the pup was in this gutter, wrapped in a bundle, unaccounted for by anyone but this simple little boy in his complex little world. The explanation to this strange occurrence lay in another gutter about half a mile down the road in front of the front door to the boy’s house. It had lain there for four nights and four days now. It had occurred to no one to do anything else but to allow it to lie there. How it came to be lying there was a different story altogether…

This story began about five days ago. The same little boy with the loose pants but otherwise, well nourished frame could be seen sitting in the previously mentioned ditch, only instead of one, there were five frames in the ditch. One of these frames was obviously of this well nourished boy with the loose pants who was lost in the complexities of his simple little universe. The other four frames (as I think there are left if I’ve been able to divert enough of my concentration from my complex universe to my math) belonged to a dog (a lactating mother) and her three pups. The boy could be seen lovingly stroking the dog’s head while the latter simply rested her head on his lap, eyes shut in contentment, lazily enjoying the caress. The boy seemed to be equally satisfied with petting the dog as he showed no signs of wanting to get up. If given the opportunity, he would probably have been at it for days, months, maybe even years at a stretch. He wouldn’t have been able to stretch it much further than a decade as dogs do not have a life-span of two decades and we usually do not measure time in decades if it has not surpassed two of the units. This was due, not to the complexity of the human mind, but of the human metric system. The pups too had their eyes shut, but hardly due to contentment. Being just a few days in age, their eyes had not yet opened and their activities were limited to whimpering, drinking milk and sleeping. They would not have been able to carry this activity on for more than a few weeks as their eyes would have opened by then. Soon they would learn to walk, grow teeth, start fighting their siblings, mark their territories and so on… this being credited to one of the laws of the universally accepted complex universe. The bottom line was that everyone in that ditch was quite content at that time. So content in fact, that they did not even notice the boy’s father approach them. The mother of the pups was at first uncertain of the intentions of the newcomer and greeted him with a low growl. Then, smelling a hint of the boy’s scent on the apparition withdrew the growl and initiated a feeble tail wag. The boy looked up into his father’s face, his face filled with uncertainty. His father simply smiled back and said, “So this is where you disappear every morning. It’s nice to see you’ve made a new friend.” If the expression ‘jumping for joy’ had ever left anyone confused, their doubts would have been laid to rest, had they been present to see the boy leap out of the ditch and hug his father around the middle (he wasn’t tall enough to reach the top yet). Unfortunately, no such people were present as they were too busy referring to complex grammar dictionaries. The boy and his father fetched some biscuits to feed the lactating mother and then headed back home (The boy, to get ready for school and his father, to get ready for his daily work routine).

After school that day, the boy once again visited the family of four residing in the ditch. The mother greeted him with as hearty a tail-wag as she could manage without disturbing her offspring, while the latter chose to ignore the boy, not being able to see him, and continued to suck milk. It didn’t disturb the boy that his pants (now held securely in place by means of a belt) and shirt were getting soiled inside the ditch. What mattered to him was the adoring look in the dog’s eyes as she raised them to his. The thumps that were issued every time the tail hit the ground were a constant reminder of the faith and trust she had in the boy. Truly, a wiser person would have avoided the ditch as lactating mothers are known to be fiercely protective (and not just of the canine variety though these are ever more so). What the boy saw in the dog, one could never say. His neighbour wrinkled his nose from the smell of the un-bathed creature every time he passed by there. He looked disapprovingly at the scruffy animal, remembering his prize-winning cocker spaniel. The boy however, adored the animal. He found solace in its company. He would narrate his day’s events to the animal and it would provide him with a set of patient ears while he poured out his heart. Then, he would feed her some of his left-over lunch and head back home. He had been doing this for almost three weeks now. The feel of her tongue, licking his fingers to express gratitude, and her cold nose poking him to offer comfort were all the dog was capable of to convey her feelings. Needless to say these alone were more than sufficient for the boy. Like everyday, he headed back home after a while, knowing that the maid would yet again fuss about the state of his clothes and that his father would once again come to his rescue. Most importantly, he knew that it was all worth the trouble. He planned to sneak another visit to the dog that night, with leftovers from dinner.

That night was not like every other night. A few minutes after the boy had left the dog and it’s litter, the dog left the side of it’s offspring. Why it did so is as good a guess for you as it is for me, but so it did. She had not gone far when the cries of her progeny reached her ears. A group of young hooligans, on spotting the unguarded litter had decided to have some fun with them by tossing them up and down. The re-appearance of the mother though, cut short their pleasure. One of the petrified youths slowly and carefully set the pup in his hand back into the ditch while the other two threw the ones in their hand up into the air and ran for dear life. It is quite needless and painful to mention what became of the two tossed into the air. The mother, on seeing the youths run, chased after them and, being obviously faster, managed to overtake and inflict some vicious nips on each one’s  hindquarters. The third youth made off in the opposite direction, taking care to wash his legs at the first source of water he encountered. While the mother returned to her family, the two injured youths were taken to the hospital where, while being administered tetanus and what-not shots (amidst yells of ‘mommy’) they provided a detailed account to the people present there of how a vicious rabid mongrel residing in a ditch near 11th cross in 1st main had assaulted them unprovoked. Needless to say, a party was formed to find this mongrel and deal with it. Find it they did as well, and when the mongrel, already disturbed from the loss of two offspring lunged at them to defend the last, she was met with sticks, stones, ropes and hatchets. A brief one-sided struggle ensued, after which the crowd cleared away, apparently satisfied, leaving a profusely injured mother bleeding in a ditch next to her last child.
The boy did visit the mother that night and on seeing her condition, burst into tears. He ran home to fetch his mother who had hitherto provided an answer to all of his problems. His mother arrived at the scene as did his father. Both were quite disturbed at seeing the condition of the dog as well as that of their son. A vet was summoned. On arrival though, he informed those present that the dog was rabid and had hence, been attacked. The parents had to work hard to restrain the body of their well nourished child of eleven in loose pyjamas, who was hurling curses (that his parents had tried to eliminate from his vocabulary) at the doctor. The father offered the abused a substantial sum of money to do whatever he could for the animal which was flatly refused. The veterinarian then went back to bed. The boy cradled the dog’s head, taking it into his lap, tears rolling down his cheeks. He fetched band-aids from the house and tried to, as best as he could, cover the animal’s lacerations with them. He then insisted that his mother kiss each and every band-aid as she had done for him to ‘make it better’. The mother, seeing the anguish of her child, readily complied. A blanket was fetched from the house to make the animal more comfortable and then, she was left alone with her last child once again.

The boy and his parents slept uneasily that night, tossing and turning until physical and mental fatigue allowed them to snuggle up in Morpheus’s blanket. The dog too, was first uncomfortable, but then was overtaken by a serene, blissful stupor. During her last conscious moments, she ensured that the bulk of her child’s body was covered by the boy’s blanket. Then, recalling all the happy times of her in the boy’s lap, when she was being caressed by him and when she was caressing her young ones, the time she had first met him and finally, the last image she had had of his face along with that of her children’s, the former mother of three and later mother of one passed on to the next world with a painful howl.

The next morning, before the sun was up, the boy woke up, took some bread out of the fridge, climbed out of his window and ran over to the ditch where the dog lay. He found her lying stiff. He squatted down beside her and held out the bread to her. Then, supposing that her injuries made it too painful to move her neck, inserted it into her mouth, then powdered the bread and stuffed it down her throat. He called out her name, stroked her head, tickled her tummy and asked her how she expected to get better if she wouldn’t eat. When he still encountered no response, he ran back home, panicking. The boy’s parents had shielded him from death until then. It appeared that they could do so no longer. As the boy sat with his parents, next to his faithful friend, his parents tried to explain as gently as they could as to what had really happened. The goal was not reached very effectively. The boy’s mother sobbed in her husband’s arms, seeing the condition of her child, who had taken his friend into his and applied her head to his chest. They wept there for an hour, none moving, and none getting up. At times, a minute quantity of gas escaping the animal’s stomach made the boy jump and exclaim she was still alive, only to have his hopes dashed and to once again bawl at the top of his lungs. Then, his father took him into his arms and led the sniffling pair of mother and son back to their house. The body was left there as one was not encouraged to claim the bodies of rabid animals. A few hours later, a little boy with a schoolbag on his back slipped into the ditch, picked up the last descendant of his friend and made his way back home.

The boy’s parents, who were afraid the incident would permanently scar the boy’s mind, were pleased to see that he had almost forgotten the incident so soon and had taken to spending his spare time in the backyard. They decided to leave him to his devices. The boy thus managed to care for the last child of the friend he had loved so much. The simple little boy, who was well nourished and wore loose pants, was lost once again in his simple life in a complex universe, caring for another friend while the sun smiled warmly upon his back.


By Raghav Rao.