The entire morning was whisked away on the ride of time as Aalo’s mind continued to loiter on the possibilities. The image of her Baba was almost engraved on her mind, and she couldn’t get that picture out. Juhi muttered something as soon as Aalo had settled in her seat, but she ignored her completely because her mind was preoccupied.

The bus stopped at various places and picked up one kid after the other. Aalo stared blankly at the door, seeing them move in as the bus got packed one by one.

Just like every other day, Roshni Madam climbed in, swishing the golden border of her saree, and a silence fell like a curtain over the chattering kids. A sweet ping rang out. Roshni Madam whipped out her phone and pressed the button on the side. Her screen lit up and in that briefest second, the cloud on Aalo’s mind cleared up. She was staring at the guy she had seen in her dreams. This gentleman was on her teacher’s phone. It puzzled Aalo for a second.

Was it possible that she had mistaken?

There was no way to know, however, or was there?

Aalo’s brain was working fast on an idea. Surprisingly, she knew exactly what to do, but she would need a little help. School seems extra-long when you have a plan to execute back home.

Ao, after fidgeting for the entire day, when Aalo boarded the school bus, she carefully chose the window seat and tried to memorise the roads and the location of Roshni Madam’s house. It wasn’t very far from her own, and in their small town, it wasn’t really difficult to go places if you had a bicycle. Aalo, fortunately, had a small one, which she sometimes used to take herself to swimming classes.

Her mother suspected nothing when she insisted that she’d go to swimming lessons alone. The pool was just two blocks away. But Aalo had no intention of stopping at the pool.

She cycled all the way further, pedalling and pedalling till the familiar lane came into sight. She skidded to a halt outside the peach coloured building. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Her legs tottered as she tried to gather her courage and drag herself to the small front porch. The calling bell was higher, and Aalo couldn’t reach it even on her tiptoes.

She looked around at the garden for any clues. It was a small bushy garden. It looked neglected. Wildflowers and bushes were clumped at places, and bald patches of no vegetation dotted the ground. 

Her eyes caught a small rusted iron stool. It was lying on the ground, half-buried in the earth. Aalo stepped into the bushes cautiously and trotted to where the stool was lying. Then she dragged it to the porch, the iron making grunge on the soil and blowing more dust. It also caused more noise than she had expected, but it was perfect.

Aalo placed the rickety stool beneath the bell and put one foot on it, hoping that it could hold her weight. The tool wobbled a bit. Aalo however had no choice but to put the other foot on too. Then she put her palm against the wall and reached up on her toes.

But the bench shuddered before she could ring the bell. She tried to spread her arms and rebalance herself on the broken thing, but her weight caused it to wobble more. Losing her balance, she yelped, bracing herself for the impact, but someone had caught her arms. She felt her back being supported by a soft round belly as someone was dangling her by her arms

Aalo craned her neck to see the face of her saviour and saw a pair of brown eyes smiling at her. The man in her dreams was holding her for real. Her Baba, the man who had only been a legend all her life, a man who had been that sore spot, that topic which the adults spoke about in hushed whispers.

Aalo blinked twice. The guy put her down gently. “Be careful there.” he picked up the tool and tossed it back into the bushes.

“Did you see me from inside the house?” Aalo asked.

“No, I was outside,” the man laughed, pushing on the door. “And the door was open.”

“What?” Aalo looked at him, surprised.

“Yes, little girl,” he winked, “Often we think the door is locked so we never try to open it. But most often the doors are not locked. You need to just give a push and see the treasure it unfolds.” He pushed the door with more force to reveal a narrow passage with wooden walls and a soft, homely glow.

Aalo gained her composure just then. She was at her teacher’s house. She had a story thought out to explain her visit.

“I am Aalo. I came to meet Roshni Madam,” she said cheerfully, looking at those serene eyes.

“Roshni has gone out to get some groceries. You can wait,” he smiled welcomingly.

“I should leave. I can come tomo…” Aalo began.

“Nonsense,” the man bellowed, “It’s going to be evening and no way am I leaving a little girl alone on the streets. You come in and then I’ll drop you home.”

Aalo’s heart almost somersaulted. Everything was falling according to plans. But there was a kernel of doubt still. Should she accompany an unknown man into the house? Her mother had warned her repeatedly, but this guy didn’t feel like a stranger at all. She felt a weird sense of connection, of belongingness to this person.

She put her hands in her pocket and dragged out a little white handkerchief.

“I think Roshni Madam dropped it when she left the bus. I tried to call her but,” Aalo said in a tiny voice, hoping her made-up story doesn’t get caught.

“Oh, thank you so much,” the man smiled, taking the handkerchief from her and gesturing for her to come in.

Gingerly she opened her shoes and hopped in, feeling her heart skip a beat as he closed the door behind her. She followed him to a small cosy drawing room with brown velvet-covered sofas and a wooden tea table at the centre.

There was a big screen TV on one wall and beautiful paintings adorned the rest of the walls. A soft yellow light shone from the glass lamp holder, which made the room feel even warmer. The smile of the man was another constant embellishment that seemed to light up the space. As much as she tried to imagine him as the villain that left her mom and her to fend for themselves, somehow she couldn’t imagine the bright man in front of her could be the bad guy in anyone’s story. 

“So, how old are you, Aalo?” he gestured for her to sit on the sofa while he dragged up a chair, sitting face to face. Aalo kept her eyes down deliberately, to not end up in tears. The emotions were overwhelming, and they collected in the corners of her eyes as tiny tears. She blinked them away fiercely before mumbling, “Eight.”

“Wow. That’s so good,” the man said enthusiastically, “and where do you stay?”

The lessons drilled into Aalo’s mind flashed suddenly. This man was a stranger after all, and she shouldn’t say anything to him.

“I’m sorry, but my Mom said never to reveal my address to a stranger.” Aalo looked up at him surprised and angry.

“Oops.” He bit his tongue in a comical gesture and held his ears with both his hands, looking apologetically at her. “Sorry.”

“It is okay,” Aalo mumbled, again drawing back into her shy shell.

Fortunately, she was spared the further awkward conversations as Roshni Madam walked in. She looked pleasantly surprised to see Aalo and gave a bright smile which created two little dimples on her rosy cheeks. It was unusual of her, as she always put on a stoic face at school. She put down the bags on the tea table and disappeared inside the house. Aalo fidgeted with her hands for a while as the man got up and disappeared behind his wife.

Aalo had time to look around. She wondered where their children were. Maybe they were off to tuitions. Little kindergarten kids were even going to tuition nowadays to improve their grades. But the more she looked around the room, there was no sign of anything that could signify a child being in the house. She knew her drawing-room was littered with toys. She wasn’t an organized child, but somehow her dolls always ended up in the drawing-room.

But this house didn’t have a single toy.

Roshni Madam must have caught her looking, so she cleared her throat loudly.

“She came to return your handkerchief,” the man informed.

“My handkerchief?” Roshni Madam raised an eyebrow as her husband handed it to her.

“This is not mine, Aalo,” she corrected.

“But I think I saw it drop from your bag,” Aalo tried to cover up.

“Maybe it belongs to someone else,” Roshni Madam shrugged, moving to the table to unpack tins of cookies. She began putting them on the table. They were expensive chocolate chip cookies and Aalo’s mouth water, but she remembered her manners suddenly and dropped her gaze.

“I will give it over to the lost and found box in school then,” Aalo mumbled.

“Even if it was mine, you needn’t have come here, Aalo. You could’ve given me in school.”

“What if it was your favourite handkerchief?” Aalo said innocently.

The man laughed first, his brown eyes twinkling. Even the creases on the outside of his eyes seemed to smile. The more Aalo looked at the man, the more she liked him.

“Even then I wouldn’t mind,” Roshni Madam giggled too, looking at her husband.

“Does Aalo like cookies?” the guy asked.

“Yes,” Aalo said quickly, before realizing how hungry she sounded.

“Then have some,” Roshni Madam screwed open the lid of one tin and held it out to her. She shook her head in refusal. 

“Come on, you can take it,” the man encouraged.’

Aalo dipped her stubby fingers in the cookie tin and dragged out a big cookie that was bigger than her entire palm. It was studded with big dark chocolate chips. She bit into the crunchy biscuit and felt it melt in her mouth. This was heavenly just as all expensive things were. 

“Isn’t she cute?” the man laughed.

“She definitely is, Rakesh.” Roshni Madam joined in, making her feel even more awkward, but she just couldn’t stop munching on the giant cookie. It was delicious.

“You can come here anytime you want Aalo,” Rakesh grinned. “We would love to have company.”

“I’d love to play with your children,” Aalo mumbled through her cookie filled teeth. 

A sudden silence descended on the room. Aalo stopped eating, looking from one to the other, wondering if she had said something wrong.

“We, don’t have children,” Mister Rakesh said slowly as if each word welled from his heart like fat tears. Roshni main craned up her neck to look at the ceiling. Her eyes were shining. It seemed she was trying hard to contain her tears.

“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” Aalo said, still trying to understand why they were crying.

If they didn’t have children, they could always bring one, right? Or couldn’t they? Aalo realised that the adult world was more complex than she had ever imagined it to be, and unknowingly she was also growing up, one experience at a time.

❤️❤️❤️