Fifteen-year-old Samten opened his packet of finger chips beside Tenzing, who was finishing his own. It was recess, and a humid wind blew through the rusted classroom window frame, carrying the mist of soft earth and plastering Samten’s shirt to his skin. It made the classroom feel even more crowded during recess. Pupils were slowly leaving for the canteen. Samten looked at his silver-coloured, black-bordered wristwatch, a gift from his mother, and slowly wrapped up the leftover chips, resisting his urge to eat, as they were the last batch of Tox. Tenzing brushed the crumbs off his school pants and peered at Samten through his golden-rimmed glasses, “Are you done?”
“Um, yes”, came the reply. Both friends stood up from their bench, situated in the third row of their classroom and started to stroll in the passage nearby. They walked down the stairs, and eventually stepped out into the muddy playground. Encircling the Buddha statue, they wondered and spoke about how they wanted to spend their summer break after exams. Samten came from a middle-class divorced family; he was a typical divorced parents’kid who yearned for love that was lost in a broken marriage. He was currently living with his mother in Machong, East Sikkim, while his father had remarried another woman from North Sikkim. He also had a stepsister whom he had never met, even though it had been almost ten years since his father’s remarriage. Tenzing, on the other hand, belonged to a wealthy Tibetan family of Gangtok; both his parents were doctors, and they ensured he got every resource to live a contented life. In common terms, he was a spoiled kid.
A strong, piercing ring from the bell tower of their school near the basketball court signalled that recess was over and everyone should resume their work. The boys decided to race back to their classroom, splashing over the muddy soil and puddles that left their black shoes and pants with patches of earth brown solid colours.
After school, Samten opened his remaining packet of finger chips and shared them with his best friend while walking down the highway towards Tenzing’s home.
Ever since Samten and Tenzing had become best friends, they had a ritual of eating snacks together after school at Tenzing’s huge residence on the hilltop in Gangtok’s market area.
While waiting for his friend to freshen up, Samten peered over the showpieces in Tenzing’s room, wondering how much each would have cost. Tenzing’s parents knew Samten well and treated him fondly, but somehow Tenzing always felt a mask over his parents’ faces. One day, on his way out of Tenzing’s home, Samten overheard how his friend’s parents wanted to reduce his daily visits to their home, and how Samten’s family background might affect the status of their family. Since then, Samten made sure he left before Tenzing’s parents arrived.
Luckily, that day he had enough time to spend with his best friend and return safely to his hostel. There, he had a phone call waiting for him. It was from Doma (his mother), who was requesting him to return home that weekend, as his father was visiting them with his stepsister.
At first, Samten was reluctant to return to the place where the nostalgia of his home still haunted him. Yet the very mention of meeting his stepsister was the thread that pulled him to return home.
Sunday morning brought in sunlight through the black nimbus clouds. The hostelers, fed up with the stench from their wet clothes, were eagerly giggling and making their way towards the lawn to dry their clothes. Among them, Samten was the most excited; he had a small backpack ready with his essentials and a journal which he had maintained for several years. He eagerly waited for Khambu daju’s call, the local taxi driver who ran his services between Gangtok and Machong for two hundred rupees.
Samten sat near the window seat of the old Sumo vehicle driven by Khambu daju. Surprisingly, that day, there were fewer travellers, giving him enough free space to occupy. From the front view mirror, Khambu daju looked at Samten and said, “Aaju Bhai tah Ghar Jaanu Lagi Khushi dekhdai cha tah”. Samten smiled, nodding to Daju and shuffling towards the dewy rectangular window that opened onto the hills and the views, looking over the green valleys and blue, violet hydrangeas growing in groups beside the roads. It felt like the earth was back to life during this jhaari season.
He wondered what made humans unhappy, made nature happy.
After a bumpy road journey up and down the sloping hills, chasing the mountains, the vehicle finally stopped in Samten’s village. Bidding farewell and enquiring about the next day’s return to his hostel with Khambu Daju, Samten made his way down the village haat where his home was.
As he paced up, he felt increasingly anxious to meet his parents together after such a long time. As he reached the kitchen garden, behind the hydrangea bushes, Samten saw something moving. He thought it might be the village snake out looking for food, until he saw a tiny black ponytail sticking out between the stems.
Getting closer, he saw a small girl with earth brown eyes and a plum milky face who was looking up to him. “Boo!” she cried and started giggling over this act, which kindled a rush of love within Samten’s heart for this kid, whom he truly hoped to be his stepsister. As she came out of the bush, he noticed what a strong resemblance she bore to Doma (Samten’s mother), as he had once seen in her childhood pictures.
“Aee, ai pugyo timi,” came a low-pitched voice from behind, and Samten immediately knew it was his father, “Ayuu Sonam eta chau timi, Chee kina eta khelayko, maila lagcha”
Sonam ran towards her father, who lifted her in his arms.
“Auh agya aungnu bha tah “.
“Jhum bhitra, Doma is waiting for you “
Lhakpa(Samten’s father) asked Samten if he had reached home safely. “It is monsoon time, we can’t say about the landslides which can occur anytime.” He said.
“Lai Appa Khambu Daju, although he is old, he still drives slowly and cautiously”, replied Samten.
Doma stood near the door, smiling through the corners of her lips, “My chora ai pugyo ghar, you have grown so thin, aren’t you getting enough at the hostel?”
“Come, freshen up, I have made your favourite ikcus ko sabjee ani aloo dum”.
The family sat down for lunch. Samten had still not been able to believe that his parents were together in this moment, and were having a normal conversation, just like before their divorce, when he had a home.
A strange silence took over the table until Lhakpa finally spoke,
“Samten, I have spoken to your mother too on this matter. Since Sonam is turning four years old this June, Sangay ( his new wife) and I have decided to enrol her in your school in Gangtok”.
“As we both will be working in the office, we want someone to look over and help Sonam with her studies.”
“Doma was telling me you are topping your school examinations, so we believe you can guide your step-sister, in fact, sister, well“
There was a peaceful smile on Lhakpa and Doma as Samten looked at them for the first time. He was being appreciated for his hard work, which made him blissfully happy. After a small pause, Lhakpa continued-
“ Will you be willing to leave the hostel and stay with us in Chandmari ?”
This was very surreal for Samten. After staying in the hostel ever since his parents’ divorce, struggling with life, he was finally about to be with his stepsister and amongst his loved ones.
After a few years…
Sonam was looking over the sunlight in a small patch of the valley amidst the monsoon rain, which she fondly remembered as shyal ko bya. Then she looked at Samten, who was managing the finances of the house, “Agya, you could have called me Chaand ko tukra (A fragment of the moon or Moon-child) and sorts, but why Barkha ko gham, does that even rhyme?”
To this, Samten smiled, fondly remembering the day when his sister had changed his life, and replied, “In a heavy grey monsoon season, a bright sun rose far between the valley; it was the day you were born”.