THE CROSSING

 

Night fell in blobs, covering the fronds of the date palms, sinking lower to the branches of the mango trees until it was over the paddy fields and slowly skimming the river's face.  Slivers of moon beams slit the pathways and empty fields. Nocturnal predators sharpened their claws and bared their fangs as they crept out in search of prey. A solitary owl's hoot sounded as she settled herself on the ancient, knotted trunk of the banyan tree.

Sounds of human footsteps and muffled voices warned the animals of unusual stirrings. A young man’s voice called out, “Careful the river banks are steep. No one is going to pull you up if you get stuck in the slush. "

Grunts and moans were audible as the women tried to find their bearings but fear bogged down their steps as they clung on to a known body or a pair of hands. The sudden flight, the horror of homes being looted and the seen and unseen atrocities had transformed them into a mindless herd of goats. They jumped and ran all over trying to keep the men in sight though it was their voices that guided them. Infants and young children, who would have been fast asleep at this hour, were dragged from their beds and weren't sure if they were awake or in a nightmare.  Trembling hands clamped down at the slightest whimper while some infants were hastily suckled lest their high pitched cries disclosed their presence. 

Rani's fingers were curled tightly around her younger sister Lali’s as she tried not to lose her balance as well as keep a firm hold on the fidgety youngster. They didn't fully understand the reasons for this flight in the late hours of the night or their future destination. There had been rumours that nearby villages were being burnt and ransacked by rioting crowds.

Bina was tired of balancing Lali who slithered and slipped while trying to hang on to her hip.  Rani’s fingers were curled tightly around her younger sister as her numb toes prodded for a safe passage through the clayey soil and moss encrusted stones.

They heard a warning voice, “Run. They are upon us.”

 Panic seized the wet, frightened women and they fell, trapped by reeds and grasses that provided no purchase. Behind them echoed strident voices and the flickering flames of burning torches cast eerie shadows and stoked up fear that crazed them. In the melee they were no longer human but stampeding like wild animals. Escape was their primary concern and they jumped and trampled on those who fell by the path. Some managed to pick themselves up, some fell by the wayside and a few attempted to extricate themselves from the mud that clung and pulled them down.

The river didn’t offer an easy passage and their saris clung and made wading almost impossible. In their hurry and ignorance they would either scatter or huddle and pull somebody down. The last scramble to dry land was near impossible but they managed to follow their leader.

It was when they stopped to catch their breath that a quick count showed that may be some were trailing behind. Bina looked around for Lali unsure when she had fallen by the way.

Guilt and exhaustion only caused confusion and Bina couldn’t decide if she should go back to look for Lali or continue. There was no time to weigh options as the consequences could be brutal. She hoped that a stronger pair of arms had picked up Lali. Backward glances didn’t make the going easier and Bina kept moving with the thought that she would be united with her daughter.

 

Bina and her fellow travellers had fled to escape their pursuers leaving behind all that they held dear. The other side of that jagged red line was marked by the footprints of those who were now racing to find safety and refuge. People couldn’t fathom why they had to be uprooted from the known and the familiar and had to become citizens of two separate nations.

 It was further downstream from the opposite bank that Rabia and her husband attempted the cross over. They were also fleeing and it was finally in the late hours of the night that they breathed calmly. It was Rabia who stumbled and fell over a body lying inert and covered with slime. Exhausted with the travails of the exodus she screamed thinking that she had stepped over a corpse. Closer examination revealed that it was a human being who was in a stupor and possibly belonged to those who had earlier abandoned their homes.

Rabia took Abdul aside and told him about her decision. “My prayers have finally been heard. This child will be ours. We left behind all that was ours but God has now given us something more precious, a child whom we can call our own. We are starting a new life in a new country and she will bring us happiness.”

 Abdul was taken aback by the firmness and surety of Rabia’s decision. “We don’t know if the parents are nearby and are searching for her. We are strangers and I don’t want to go looking for trouble. What if we are attacked and accused of being kidnappers. Times aren’t right to pick up a child who looks almost dead.”

 Rabia was obstinate, “No I will not take another step. You can do what you please but I go if she goes.”

They picked up the limp and small body and trudged onwards. Rabia was determined to win back the child she named Laila who had her eyes closed to the world around her. Months of caring and nurturing revived Laila and she responded to the changes that had blurred past memories. Some nights she would scream as nightmares haunted her but Rabia’s calm voice and warm embrace would restore sanity.

 

 Years passed and borders were now often reluctantly recognised as permanent. Movements were legalized by passports and visas though there were always some old and new exit and entry points carved by rivers that moved as they pleased. Lands had been divided by religion were often enflamed by violence and marked by exodus. Yet families had accepted the new frontiers while they buried their grief deep inside.

It so happened that as a teenager Laila came for an interview for a scholarship to a renowned music school. Bina had also come with a neighbour’s daughter and noticed the young girl who was humming softly.

Long ago Bina had woven a medley of songs in to a lilting tune for her children. There were no proper lyrics, it was like a gentle breeze, the murmur of flowing water and it carried a mother’s reassurance that all would be well in the land of sleep and dreams. Intuitively Bina started singing and didn’t notice that Laila had become silent and was staring at her.

At first Bina was embarrassed and then asked, asked “Did your mother sing you to sleep with this lullaby?”

Laila looked up and smiled impishly “Heaven forbid but my Ammu can’t carry a tune. You are the only one who seems to know the words.”

Bina was unsure about the answer, “There aren’t really many words; mothers make them up as most babies are fast asleep in a minute or two.”

“I think I was born with this tune in my soul.  All I know is that when I am stressed or sad this tune just plays in my head and calms me. Maybe it is a farishta, an angel’s boon for me just as Ammu says I’m Laila the night of the wonderful gift.”

Bina looked hard at Laila as if she wanted to memorize every feature, her throat constricted with tears; she turned her head and walked away.

Rabia had overheard the entire conversation and with the fervour of a mother’s heart prayed that God should not take away his gift. Peace touched Bina’s heart as she hummed the long forgotten tune. The daughter she had believed was abandoned had found a loving home. It didn’t matter whether her name was Laila or Lila. It was important that she was living in the hearts of her mothers.