Ratan

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
"Ratan was just seven when his beloved brother left to join the war"

Submitted: June 16, 2014

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Submitted: June 16, 2014

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Ratan was just 7 when his dada left to join the war; the day was quite, he could hear his mother sobbing frequently but he was not brave enough to ask the reason.  His father—a judge during the time— would had sighed the umpteenth time, something Ratan had never seen his father do.  The day was oddly silent for him, Ratan in all form, was hyperactive. His appearance overall matched his mothers, those large pointy eyes and slightly round face while his hair was untamed. His brother rarely talked and the servants who used to be his playmates were too busy.  Being a child, he had puffed his cheeks angrily at them yelling how mean they always were, but no sooner did it came to him that he was angry than it melted away. He was as austere as one can be. 

At noon, his brother took him out. It was a schedule for them to roam about the town together; however his brother took him somewhere else today.

Ratan’s father owned a rather major pool which was situated over the backyard of their bungalow. The place was murky, the rainy season had poured down all its tears and the usually dry pool had greedily taken it all. There was a jam tree which sat near a slime crammed place, where one slip could he fatal (Ratan’s mother had warned him about going there all alone). His dada would climb up in it, carefully, and picked the fruits for Ratan to enjoy.

 Ratan’s hand was wrapped around his dada’s before they sat down on the pavement which leads you towards the pool.  

It was odd, Ratan mused dangling his feet back and forth. It was pleasant though, it climate was cool and here and then you could hear the cuckoo’s voice calling out to the others for their departure meant for the rest of the day. He turned his head at the side and watched his dada’s stature, hands on his lap, eye closed, (as if remembering something he had forgotten) trying to keep the calm posture.

The child swallowed a knot which was forming in his throat; he was confused as of what to do. The atmosphere was never this tense between them.

 

Dada?”  He called out.

“Yes Ratan?” The voice seemed practiced, it somehow hurt Ratan.

“Why was mother crying?”  He gazed down, at the pool, teeth dug into his bottom lips. He heard a sigh.

“I am…going, Ratan” Ratan saw his dada’s lips quivering, He blinked a bit.

“Oh” was all that he could say. He still didn’t understand why his mother was crying. Ratan’s dada was frequently away for a month of so due to his studies.

“When are…you going to come back?”

“…I don’t know”

Ratan tensed a bit, his mind froze. The world seemed to just fall apart somehow.  The Jam tree was not there anymore neither was the pool; Just the two of them.

Ratan always grew up in the shadows of his dada, the intensity of that was so much that it was nearly impossible for Ratan to live without him. Everyone in his school always teased him about him, but he did not take any heed; they were always mean to him.

 

“Wha…” Ratan swallowed again and tried to form a sentence “What do you mean?”

“You know…I want to join the war”

“W-why?”

“I want to do something for my motherland…” Voice smooth, smoother than silk.

His brother was exceptional, whether in studies or sports or looks.  His pointy, piercing eyes were the main feature of show. He was well praised by his father; Ratan was a bit jealous of it.  He had seen many suitors come and go, and by many, he meant it. His father had dismissed all chanting his elder son his too young for it.

 

“I promise” his dada started “I will come back” with this, he turned towards Ratan keeping his hand on the others head.

“I promise”

His eyes were wet, his teeth grinded against each other, and a try to not cry. He nodded, as soon as he did; he was unable to stop the waterfall freely flowing.

 

A/N: This came to me while I was listening “Say something”  ;A; the song is sad TT,TT

*dada: big brother in Bengali i.e. an Indian language.

*Jam: It’s not Jam which you put on bread, its Ja-um, a fruit, black berry.

Going to continue this later, its just a plan, if you like it then I will do more.

 


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