The brassy arms of the clock tower displayed nine in the moonlit dark with elegance, this followed the sound of a shutting door and a huge figure on the other side of the door replacing the open side with closed which smiled at a hundred disheartened crowd waiting to savour chocolates.
The whole town had only one chocolate maker, there were sweet makers- a plenty, but none knew what chocolates were until Abu ended up in this town some twelve years ago. Abu made all sorts of chocolates of varied diversities, he had so many recipes at hand that not in your lifetime would you be bored of eating them! As good as it sounds resonates even the bad sounds. Coming to the bad side, Abu's chocolates do not last more than three days and Abu never makes chocolates during summer, no, not because they would melt, as the town his chocolate store was established is a cold mountain top, but for some mysterious reasons unknown.
The town itself was named The Cold Mountain. It was a town of decent self sustaining population. Figuratively speaking, the town was an island cut off from the main civilization because of poor connectivity and rough terrain. The only means of exit was by a lazy pair of bulls towing you and your belongings. It was an era where the world enjoyed electricity and lived the present, but The Cold Mountain was left lonely in the past without electricity. As far as education was concerned, there wasn't really any school in the town. Until the child reached the age of ten, he would be taught basic science, literature and moral by the elder folks of the town, after this he would be sent to neighbouring towns and cities for formal education. This system, quite contrary to the ageing town was fresh and just two years old. Two years ago the government had issued a notice to the town head which bathed him in shame of being unable to read, so he decided swiftly to educate all the young springs of the town, that's how the new system sprang!
"Papa, I ain't leaving home,” shrilled little Hari sitting in the dark corner in his home. Hari's father remained silent without responding, he was used to Hari's ways. Hari made louder noises of crying to grab his father's attention, but in vain. Hari continued his drama more dramatically, this time it was for his mother. His mother however could not contain herself to the pleas of her little treasure. She walked up to him, laying one hand gently on Hari's head and another on his cheek, she wiped away his tears and consoled him telling all the good world that lay ahead of him waiting. Mothers have a unique aura in them to convince longing souls, and hence it was declared that Hari would be leaving to the neighbouring town of Green Lake when sun breaks dark.
The next day morning a bullock cart was arranged for the many young people in the pursuit of knowledge. Hari too boarded the cart with a crying face. His senior brothers and sisters assured him that it would all be fun out there, this gave Hari little hope, for all he could do was never take off his tear soaked eyes off his waving father and crying mother. This vision grew fainter and fainter as the bullock cart sunk deeper into the mountainy slope.
After an year had passed and summer arrived, so did Hari, back home happier than ever. The whole town celebrated the learned children's return and munched the feast arranged in the town hall that night. The whole town except one man and one dish: Abu and his chocolates. Summer was the season when sun shines gay, and sheds his rays on all and sundry, except for Abu, who was homely throughout. Hari had nearly forgotten that Abu did not make chocolates in the summer. Unaware of this, Hari while storytelling his adventures enthusiastically to his younger pals announced that they all would leave to Abu’s chocolate store the first thing in the morning. Pankaj lifelessly replied, “He doesn't make chocolates in the summer!” This instantly saddened Hari’s happy face.
All along the way back home only one thought lingered in Hari’s head: Somehow I have to get Abu into chocolate making. Along with this buzz, childish questions like why doesn't Abu make chocolates in summer?, Why doesn't he even come out during summer?, Abu? The name seems weird, does he even belong to the town?, tried showing dominance. He couldn't put off these confusions throughout the night. By the time he comprehended any of these questions, the rooster sprung him into action.
Finishing his morning chores hurriedly, Hari ran his legs off to Abu's chocolate store. The street where Abu's chocolate store was situated had turned into a marketplace very soon. Owing to the population concentrated near Abu's chocolate store, all other vendors in the town eyed the opportunity and bulls eyed their businesses to this street. During summer the street showed off its usual hubbub, but with a hole in its abdomen where Abu's chocolate store sat gracefully. Hari ran to the chocolate store and knocked at with all his might, only to be answered by the echoes of his knocks. After an hour had passed, noticing Hari's persistent act, a vendor from the opposite shop walked to Hari and said, “Son, go home, it's useless!” Without much ado Hari left to his pal’s homes to hire them in his new detective errand.
Hari's two closest comrades were Murthy and Pankaj. Both these kids were younger by two years, this resulted in Hari being their boss. Now that Hari even had formal education, his bossing over the other two had grown much more profound. He gathered both of them and sat on the periphery of a pond. Few minutes were given by the three to silence to rule. Pankaj overthrew silence’s rule, “Hari, what for are we here?,” sooner than he had finished his words a punch landed on his head, which was followed by Hari’s authoritative voice, “Boss… .” Murthy was alarmed immediately and let out a sigh of relief. Now Murthy asked the same question with 'Boss’ replacing 'Hari,’ sooner than he had finished his words a punch landed on Murthy's head and Hari's voice clarified that he was disturbed while thinking.
Finally Hari spoke, “We have to solve the Abu mystery!” Now nobody dared to say anything. Hari continued, “We have to locate Abu’s origin, absence of chocolates in summer and why Abu is such an ass!” Hari concluded. His pupils nodded with agreement. “Today each of you will have a homework!,” ordered Hari. Homework was a new term that Hari had picked up from school. This confused his pupils and both asked in unison, “Boss, now what's homework?” Hari reframing his sentences said, “Today you both will be doing a work in your homes!” Now it was clearer to them and nodded again. “Each of you will question your parents and the old folks about Abu,” after a silent pause Hari thundered, “Clear?”
“Yes boss!” came the posthumous reply.
The next day when Hari and his friends met near the old pond, nothing other than that Abu did not belong to the village was figured out. Hari expected this, his parents and grandparents knew nothing more, so wouldn't his pals’. Now Hari laid out his plan ‘B’ part by part to his friends. “You both are aware of Das?” Hari questioned. Pankaj replied in a shaky tone, “you mean the town head?”
“Yes,” came Hari's reply. This introduced a chill fear in Murthy and Pankaj. “We will ask him about Abu,” Hari coolly said.
“Nooo!” cried his pupils in retaliation.
“Shut up idiots!” commanded Hari. Restoring the decorum he continued, “I have a plan, we will do it indirectly. How much money do you both have?”
Off they were to the Townhead’s house with a box full of milk sweets for Rekha, Das’ daughter. Rekha loved milk sweets, but her father controlled her everyday food to keep her in good shape so as to marry her off to one of the royal families. Rekha was two years elder to Hari, the age did not differentiate them as they were physically built to the same level. All these four kids used to hang out together, but Rekha had become a woman now and eventually dropped out of the wolf pack.
At Rekha’s home, her mother offered the young men with milk and called out for Rekha. Rekha ran to the living room immediately to meet her old friends. Hari proudly handed Rekha the sweet box saying he had bought them just for her, his comrades retorted by repeatedly pinching his thighs, this made Hari give credit to the other two. Rekha chuckled at their childish plays and sailed into old memories.
“Rekha, we need a help,” Hari was a gentleman now.
“What is it?” enquired Rekha.
“Can you please ask your father about Abu?” Hari answered. With a sweet box in one hand, she couldn't disagree and agreed to let them know about that tomorrow.
Rekha was a woman of her words. She had asked all available questions to her father and had learnt pretty interesting information which she was very eager to share with her friends. Rekha was a natural story teller, so she began with a serious demeanor, “It was a moonless dark night. The sky poured rains from a thousand rivers, thunder and lightning rose the dead! That very night I was born, and that very night Abu knocked at our door. My father welcomed him and offered him shelter, as the man was in a dreaded condition. That night Abu requested my father a place to set up his chocolate store. My father never really knew what chocolates were, Abu offered some of the most tastiest chocolates to my family and explained about them. My father would have never allowed him to stay in the town as he was too much of an introvert and wouldn't speak a word, but for the chocolates he offered brought the very first giggles in the baby me, emotionally touched and thinking Abu as a good omen he set him up the chocolate store. The End!” ended Rekha. Hearing this wonderful narration the other three kids clapped in appreciation. This was some unknown information, but it wouldn't be of much use to Hari. Now Hari had to think of new plans.
Hari reordered and rethought his priorities. Hari’s main ambition was to munch on Abu's chocolates which was presently out of his reach since he returned to town during summer and Abu never made chocolates then. The worst part was that Abu's chocolates never lasted more than three days. Okay, let me clear my head, thought Hari. I am doing all this mess just to eat the chocolates, why not make the chocolates myself?, was his question. Abu made more than hundred varieties of chocolates, he would never remember all of them, voilà! “The recipe book!” Hari uttered with amusement, this bemused his chatting friends. Hari snapped a thank you at Rekha and left immediately with his comrades.
After an initial thought of consequences and troubles, which never really scared Hari, he spoke, “We will be stealing Abu’s recipe book!” This gave a heart attack to both his friends. “I am leaving!” responded Pankaj. “So am I,” agreed Murthy. Hari tried persuading them, “If you guys can't help I don't care, I'll do it by myself. Once I get the recipe book I'll make,” he continued louder, “TASTY CHOCOLATES and eat it all alone.” Hari waited for his friends to side with him. “No thanks,” replied Murthy and Pankaj and left the scene.
The sun was winding up with his work preparing for a night long slumber leaving the night duty in the hands of waxing moon. This night Hari would be stealing, Hari would become a thief, Hari the thief! Hari the thief!, this voice grew louder in Hari’s head with every step, he tried ignoring his conscience and fought his way to inspect Abu’s chocolate store for vulnerabilities. There was a way Hari had figured out to gain entry. In the back side of the chocolate store higher above the door was a small square opening, enough for a miniature like Hari to wriggle through. All he needed was a ladder to reach the vent. Bright light still flickered from inside, Hari had to wait for more night.
The time was right in the eerie night. Hari sneaked out of the house with a ladder. Lurking in the darkest hour, guided by dim moonlight Hari reached the back side of Abu’s chocolate store. Like all other buildings even Abu's was store was plain and simple robbed of frontal beauty in back side. The door was to boring for a description and was located on the leftmost end, this was followed by a pair of windows all the way to the rightmost. The square vent was just above the door. Observing the very little detail that could be grasped in the silver light, Hari gently placed the small ladder against the door. The upper end of the ladder landed just an inch below the vent which was naked without any bars except for the weakly bound mesh on the inner side, which Hari knocked out easily. Lucky was he as the mesh lay flat on a slab which was right below the vent on the inner side.
Flickering shadows and the silhouettes of things was described by the lamp light nearing its minutes to death. Hari glanced at the slab, betting that it would hold his weight he shifted himself slowly onto it judging every single of his move. When he was done, so had the slab successfully held his weight. Gripping his hands on the slab, Hari slowly lowered his legs, then followed his torso, soon he felt the fluffy carpet below his soft toes. And off was he from the slab and on was he in Abu’s turf. Time was running out because of the flame of the lamp was dying slowly. Opposite to the entrance a plain wall with a door partitioned Abu’s Chocolate Store and his place of residence. Right beside the door lay a thin mattress bearing a humongous man:Abu. Unlike the other villagers who ‘buffalo snored’, Abu was silent quite opposite to his powerful figure. This was a disadvantage for Hari as the slightest noise would bring hell! Hari kitty pawed into the kitchen. Opposite to the kitchen entrance was a wardrobe above which was another vent of a similar fashion to the previous one. Duh! I could have gotten in through this thought Hari. Apart from the wardrobe a slab as high as an average man’s belly ran along the periphery of the kitchen. The slab housed all the kitchen utensils with magnanimity. Suspecting the cookbook to be inside the wardrobe jovially forgetful of the snoring beast. The door creaked open, Hari shrieked to his senses and tarried frozen for a few seconds. Nothing happened. Relieved, he eyed a fat book inside resting on the middle shelf. This must be the cookbook concluded Hari. Without a second thought he took it from the shelf with utmost care and slid it under his shirt. The kitchen’s vent was a much easier exit. With the book pressed against his belly, he climbed on the slab, the next instant on the wardrobe. Looking out through the vent he realised that there was no ladder. He looked down at the ground: grass showed off. Without much judgement, off he leaped on the grassy ground. It hurt him a little bit, but that wouldn't stop him from reclaiming the ladder and running back home and back to bed as if nothing happened. He silently laughed at himself and soon was asleep.
The rooster’s cock-a-doodle-doo wasn't enough to wake Hari's reviving body. His mother had screamed out several times to drag him out of his slumber. As soon as he was up he lifted the pillow to make sure Abu’s book was still there. The book was a hardbound thick piece, the cover read 'Rabi’s Delicacies’ in cursive. 'Rabi's?’ squeaked the bemused Hari. This made him draw immediate conclusions about Abu: Abu is a thief who stole the book from the God knows who Rabi from the God knows what place and absconded to Cold Mountain town to make a living. God knows whether Abu really is his name!
This was some fruitful information rewarded to Hari from his detective errand. Hari wanted to spread this to every single one, but the fact that he in turn would be accused of robbery limited the spread of information to Murthy and Pankaj. They too were shocked at this and doubted Hari of even entering Abu's home. To prove his statement Hari unleashed the cookbook at his now frozen friends, their respect for Hari’s bravery grew. His friends literally begged Hari to share the book with them. Hari agreed, but under one condition that this matter would remain in secrecy. Hari promised to get two copies of the recipe book when he would next return from Green Lake city, where there was a printing press.
Hari was no more the same happy innocent kid. He now was a man, had rightfully become one by committing a crime. He had grown heavier now, the additional weight of guilt crippled his heart. The fear prompted him to regularly check on Abu's chocolate store. It was all the same, before and after the book was stolen.
Summer and summer vacations cut through the finishing line simultaneously. Hari returned to his home away from home, the boarding school. Hari had carried the recipe book along with him to make copies. At school, Hari's amiable behaviour had won him many nosey friends. Presto! A sugarcoated news of the recipe book spread throughout the school! Hari also invited his friends and mates to visit his town to taste chocolates as a polite gesture, that was a gesture alone when he was asked to visit his town by his friends, inside Hari was afraid.
Cold Mountain had relatively cooler temperatures that year. No time had been so cold, filled with cold news. This cold caught Hari like the common cold from the outspoken droplets of Pankaj and Murthy, “Abu did not make chocolates this whole year.” This was sadness for others, for Hari fear had consumed it all: Happiness and Sadness. Hari was happy for achieving to replenish desires, pretty sad of the crime, but now fear outweighed the puny impostors. His brain churned with all bioelectric machinery predicting the outcomes. His thoughts raced into future, a future of darkness and shame. The limit which he assumed unlimited suddenly assumed power, his ego suppressed by sheer fear, and one solution though absurd, though nothing would change, but for all souls seek: self-satisfaction. He wanted to return Abu's book.
Four heavy books resting in Hari's bag strained his shoulders to spine. House was near, a soft voice comfortingly said, “Hari let me carry the bag.” It was his mother walking alongside him. Hari gripped the bag’s strap tightly and replied uncomfortably, “It’s okay ma, we are almost there.” She slightly smiled, proud of her little Hari who had grown more mature, that was what she thought.
The crickets creaked, led by insignificant cumulation of star light, Hari walked towards Abu's chocolate store. Logic was blind, blinded by fear, Hari had not met any of his friends, nor gathered any information of the situation. He hated it all, the feeling of oblivion in his world crippled his heart. I do not care what has happened, what will happen, this burnt in his mind fuelling one another, throbbing his temples.
It is always perception. Hari was guided by fear towards bravery. Hari was afraid to be brave, brave to face the world, brave to face the world, brave to have no regrets. There he was, back in the same spot, Abu’s chocolate store. It was not dim flickering light this time, but a bright light, unusual at this time emanated from the inside of Abu’s abode. Abu must be awake, thought Hari. I do not care, screamed his thought in an onslaught at the former. Hari laid the ladder in a similar fashion, but this time the landing was harder. He started climbing towards the ventilator, and nearly slipped a step and almost fell, his sweaty proved worthy by gripping the ventilator’s lower edge in time. The ladder fell back in recoil, liberating a noise that blended with the sound of fast breaths and beating heart.
Hari raised himself into the opening… Hari froze, he was thoughtless, his eyes wide opened, bewildered at the open slaughter he had encountered, an eye for an eye. Little eyes which appeared devious to the bloodshot eyes for a bloodshot eyes which appeared dangerous in the little eyes. Abu was staring at Hari with rage burning, signs of depression and sleeplessness put him in a devil’s satire.
“Get down,” mellowed Abu, his voice was not a little as strong as his body. The mind and the body, two contradictions coexisting! Hari followed speechlessly, fidgeting ceaselessly. His soft paws landed on the soft carpet. Abu’s stare was powerful holding Hari’s gaze. Without twitching his eyes, Hari gripped the book under his shirt and brought it towards Abu. Hari's eyes reflected innocent apology, sending Abu into a commotion, should it be anger or should it be forgiven?
It was Abu’s move now, without anymore thought he said plainly, “you thief be away forever.” Had he said it right? Was it harsh? Hari was just a child who made mistakes unknowingly! One year of worthlessness! One year of emotional breakdown! One year of sorrow… . Hari like all other children do not craft their sentences or weigh them before saying, but speak the heart, “ You too are! The book is not yours, you have been taking credit for someone else!” Hari thundered. Thunder did Hari, lightning struck Abu, then the flood poured out of the bloodshot eyes accompanied by loud sobs. Sobs mixed with broken intermittent words trying to unite into a sentence slipped from Abu, “yes…,” he sobbed, “yes… I am the thief… I am the thief…,” Abu's voice grew louder with every interval. “Yes… I am the thief of a SOUL!” he finally screamed. Hari was astonished to see a man of such order and magnitude crying. Hari's reflexes resulted in him becoming the father of the man. “It's alright Abu, please don't cry!” Hari consoled repeatedly.
“I come from a very far away place…,” controlling his sobs Abu continued, “A place overlooking all heights, a place where mountains bleed milk that cools the entire village. You have seen me as a quiet chocolate seller with all mysteries, but I was different then, neither quiet nor…,” Abu walked towards the kitchen and brought Hari some chocolates. Abu continued handing over the chocolates, “nor did I sell chocolates. I was a tailor. My wife delivered a beautiful little son, but unfortunately all I have of the other half of my soul are just memories. My son was my world and his was me. I loved more than the definition of love can extend. All he wished I wished for too, and granted many. Education was one such thing my son desired, my poverty denied my son education.” Hari's eyes were now glued to Abu's, his jaws dropped an inch with curiosity.
“Since my wife was no more with us, It was Rabi and I who would cook. Tailoring was never really Rabi's knack, all his interests were towards cooking. Every festive day he would make one of the most delicious sweets! I was happy that my son was good at this, but feared the autocratic society which designated one's work according to his caste. In spite of just preparing the sweets, he was also recording it in a book,” said Abu.
“So the cookbook is your son's?,” Hari interrupted.
“Yes,” answered Abu and continued, “Rabi's passion for sweet making had crossed dangerous limits even after my repeated warnings!”
“What would happen if Rabi continued what he wanted?”
“Death penalty!,” Abu replied coldly. “We belonged to a lower caste and the sweet makers belonged to the upper caste, if they had found out about what Rabi was up to, then would be a disgrace to their caste. One night I saw my son jotting down some new recipe in his book. Out of fear for his safety and love alone I scolded him for the first time in his life and snatched the book away from him!” Abu returned to sobbing and slipped intermittent sentences like, “I shouldn't have done that,” and “I am a sinner!” Regaining control Abu continued, “Rabi was angry at me for doing so, but nothing of such great concern. As usual he came out of his room to have dinner. Then all the misery broke loose. Rabi seeing some papers burning in the hearth ran crying into his room and shut the door, and… and…,” Abu sobbed vigorously and collapsed to his knees, staring at the flame from the lamp he continued, “and shut the world forever!” Abu began apologizing to Hari as if Hari was a judge, “I never burnt Rabi’s book!” He pleaded, “I snatched it but did not burn it!” Abu slipped into a limbo of dejection.
Hari gently placed his hands on Abu's shoulders. He didn't want to ask any further questions to the broken man. What can I do? Hari thought. After some thinking an idea struck Hari's static bell, ringing his mouth he blurted out, “Abu your son would surely be happy by seeing others happy eating his chocolates.” Hari waited for Abu's attention. Abu looked at Hari's twinkling eyes through his moist ones. Hari resumed, “Your recipe book can be made into many copies and distributed. I know a printing press near by school, we can make as many copies as possible and can be sent far and wide so that everyone enjoys Rabi's chocolates!” Abu thought this to be a very good idea and nodded his agreement. Abu felt foolish to not to have thought this idea before. All these years of heaviness Abu had experienced vanished all of a sudden. All his miseries was put away by this little kid whom he had hardly known. For Abu it was as if Rabi had reincarnated to be Hari. Tears of glee welled up in his eyes. Wiping them away he hugged Hari, close to Hari's ears Abu whispered in a husky voice, “I am sorry for everything son!” Hari thought Abu was apologizing for calling him a thief, but Abu was in no state of reality! All his miseries lay dumped in some unseen dingy corner of his mind, the only thing Abu experienced now was a supernatural bliss of uniting with his son's soul.
Hari was dumbstruck. The man’s grip was too tight to be freed. Abu. Abu. Hari called out. Abu was in no state of listening. “Abu, if I don't wake up early tomorrow my father would whip my ass off!” Hari screamed. This dragged Abu back to reality. “Oh… I am sorry, I will take you home” Abu replied. Abu and Hari walked to Hari's home. Something unexpected had happened to both of them. It was a win win situation. Finally everything went about as spoken…
Epilogue
The printing press man picked the recipe book and flipped the pages one by one making copies. As few pages passed there was a change in the style of presentation and the handwriting. The new style continued till the end of all information. (Every summer in his son's memory Abu created the rest of the recipes!)
-Aravind Srinivasan