I stood there all alone, big boulders towering over me. I wasn’t really alone; I had a friend, but she was so little. She was crying. I had to be responsible. I was only seven. And lost. We walked a long way all alone. I look at my sleeping seven year olds, and shudder to think of a similar fate. I would die! I kept thinking that a lion would jump out and attack us. “Don’t cry,” I said to her. But her tears wouldn’t stop. I held her hand tight. Not a soul in sight. Not even a bird or a bee. There were no stray dogs in the mountains. Which way is back? Or front? And so we kept walking. Now it is more developed. We would have seen a person, or a shop, or hotel, or a car. But back then it was deserted like a jungle. Over thirty years ago, to be precise. Was I scared? Only of a lion, or a wild animal. I had heard they were lurking around. Two little girls would make an easy dinner. Someone had spied a cheetah in those parts, or was it a panther? Or just my imagination?
Did I get us in this mess? Was it my fault? We heard water dripping. There were lots of waterfalls there. It was a popular honeymoon destination; for my parents too. We kept moving. We had left to find our parents. We thought they had gone, and we had to find them. We should have never left.
It was getting dark now. Would we have to sleep near the rocks? Would we wake up in a belly? My reassurances to her fell like hail on a bright sunny day. I think back now and recall sloping roads waiting to be swallowed by looming mountains. “The Aravallis” they called them, the oldest mountain range in the world. But to me they looked like a lion’s den. I walked faster. “Just a little more,” I told her. “We are almost there. I remember the way.”
We saw a man returning home with his empty cart after a long day at work. He saw us, me holding a weeping six year old’s hand, asking if he had seen our parents. “You see,” I said, mimicking my father, “we have lost them.” “Which school do you go to, beta?” he asked. “I don’t know, we just arrived today.” “Is it Sophia, the girls’ school?” “Maybe, I think so.” “I know Sister Bernardine. Come with me.” He put us on his cart. We were tired but I preferred to walk. I was too old to sit on a cart!
He took us home. It was a humble hut, not too big, a bit shabby. His wife seemed kind. He prayed and gave us prasad, white sugar chips. We had not eaten. Now I never head out without snacks or water, and always remind my kids to stay hydrated. None of that back then.
Darkness wrapped us in her arms. We walked a long way till we sighted faint city lights, flickering in the fog. He took us to school. Our parents were waiting. Everything was a blur after that. They told us we were lost for four hours. Was it really that long? They thought we were playing in the garden while they counted our clothes. We thought they had left without saying goodbye. Mom said they had to bribe the police officers with alcohol. Our parents had to leave us at the boarding school that night. Everyone told me the school was very good. It was new. And cold, very cold.
I never saw the kind man again. Those were simpler times. It is scary out there now. I wish I could repay him. I hope he had a good life.
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