The Chosen Planet

She was happy. We were finally climbing the hills. It was an easy climb and we would be at the caves in no time. She wanted to come here for so long, she said. But no one was ready to accompany her and she was afraid to come alone. She scooted ahead of me whenever there was level ground and beckoned me to come faster. And then fell behind again when the climb started. It was funny. She was aware I was more athletic than her, and hated that. She at times paused to catch her breath and stood silently with her hand on her hips. For a few seconds, not knowing that, I would keep climbing blithely. And then suddenly I would turn around to find, where that was possible, that she was standing a few meters below, panting and gazing calmly at the vista.

When I asked her why she wasn’t asking me to stop for her, she replied haughtily that wasn’t needed. She would catch up with me. I started being careful then. Slowed myself, stopped and looked back every minute whether she was right behind me or not. That irked her further. She informed me in chaste Hindi that she was not a child and that I should continue climbing at my own pace – there was very little danger she would tumble off the hill. I told her it was not consideration for her safety that made me slow down. I just wanted to be with her. That mellowed her; she gave me a warm smile and said graciously thank you very much. Yet she refused to take my help. When I once offered to pull her up over a rock, she smiled, shook her head, and clambered up using her hands.

When we reached the top of the hill I helped wash the grime off her hands she had accumulated over the climb. And then she discovered she had forgotten to bring her hanky. I seldom carried mine and pretended I too had forgotten it. I naturally assumed she would use her dupatta as a substitute, but discovered it was not that natural to her. I offered her alternately my shirt and my trousers to wipe her hands on, but she grimaced and said no. What then I asked? In reply she shook her hands vigorously, thrice, and then got down on her knees to wipe them on the grass. She rubbed them slowly on the grass - first her palms, then the back of her hands, and then the sides of her fingers. Then she put both her hands on the grass palms down and sat back on her legs like a Japanese lady preparing for the tea ceremony. And then she tried to lift her face towards the sky, not wanting to take her palms off the grass, somewhat like a puppy sitting on its haunches and looking up to you. Her eyes were closed and there was a blissful smile on her face. She let out a contented moan and uttered the words: ‘the grass is so soft.’ Then she, as was her habit, clutched the grass in her hands and tugged at it, shaking her head with teeth clenched, as if the puppy was getting himself rid of water after having a bath. I laughed.

We looked at the sun as he went over the hills. The horizon was a color I didn’t know the name of, and wanted to know. Isn’t it beautiful, she said to me. Her voice surprised me. It was wistful, sad than happy. I asked her why she was unhappy. She said it was because she wanted to see such a sunset everyday. Where she lived in Berhampur the sunset was boring, and the sun went over brick houses. Who wanted to see the sun set behind bricks? She wished she lived here. Hills were so beautiful, so green. Then she paused and thought for some time: but at least she was happy she was not born in a desert.

I told her I had heard sunsets in desert were beautiful. But that didn’t flutter her at all. What about the rest of the day, she asked. I can’t imagine living without trees around me. At least a few trees. Imagine if we lived on the moon, could survive there without water. Without any trees or other animals. Just the endless dusty lands, the craters, the rocks, the plateaus, the mountains. Wouldn’t it be horrible? You need life, and life around you other than yours. We should thank god he didn’t put us on moon. What was he thinking? To have made one planet so beautiful and others so ugly. I think he put all his life’s effort into creating earth, to make it as beautiful as possible. Perhaps we are really his chosen planet.