I was waiting for him near the playground, under the banyan tree. The atmosphere was chilling, and my whole body was numb. I guess I was getting the right feeling because the news regarding what happened to him could make me numb for hours. His absence enraged me, and I went back to my home, committing that I would never talk to him again, nor would I show him my face. I really didn't know that I was actually telling the truth.

Two weeks had passed since that accident happened, and there was no trace of 'raspberry kaka' in my life after then. It was just because of my habitual reflex action that I used to turn to glimpse at the lonely lane from where that postman used to come and the banyan tree under which he used to sit, but there was no one. My anger and frustration gradually converted into tension. I was always thinking of him, praying that nothing bad had happened to him, and also praying to see him soon, but God didn't listen to my prayers. I got more tensed, and now there was only one thing that I could do.

The next day, I called my friend, Monu, and asked for his help getting me a bicycle. He asked several questions, but I answered none of them. He helped me with a bicycle with the condition that he was going to accompany me in what I was going to do.

"But where to go?"

"I can't tell. If you want, then come with me, but please don't tell anyone about this." That was the first time I was saying something to my friend with a 'please'. All of that is only for that 'raspberry kaka'.

We started our journey the next day, early in the morning. We cycled along the cobbled road, interchanging our turns as paddlers after every mile. After the course of one hour, we were exhausted and also reached our destination, which was actually mine. He was puzzled upon seeing the stop and was unable to make up anything as the building in front of us was the village post office. All of that is only for that 'raspberry kaka'.

I asked Monu to wait outside, and I went inside. The post office was of British time; it was a single-story building with only two rooms, one big and one small, like the holes in my 'baniyain'. The furniture in that place seemed beyond its expiration date. There were not many people, and many desks were empty. In one corner, a huge pile of dusty files was kept.

A man sitting in the corner was staring at me. I went to him and asked, "Do you know where raspberry kaka is?"

"What? I don't understand."

"There 'is' a postman in your office. He 'is' a slim, bald old man, and..."

"Shut up! Don't talk about that bald rascal. He was such a-" A woman who appeared to be in charge of them interrupted him. She signaled the man to apologize to me.

"I'm sorry, kid. I was carried away. Sorry, that was an extempore." And then he left his desk. After that scenario, I concluded that the 'raspberry kaka' was a notorious man in that office.

"What do you want?" the lady asked me.

"I'm looking for a postman who works in this place," and I explained his physical properties to her.

"Yes, I know that man. He was Mr. Gulati. He passed away three weeks ago."

I lost my breath for a while. I didn't know whether to cry or interrogate her. I had no words and no energy to do anything. I was really NUMB!

With heavy and slow steps, I went out of the post office. Monu was waiting with a bicycle. "Come fast! Its too late. We have to go."

I looked at him for a while with an open mouth, still pondering the words said by the lady. Then suddenly, I started running along the road without thinking of anything.

"Hey man! Where are you going?" He ran after me with the bicycle.

I was running so fast that I never knew when I had completed two miles. I was exhausted. Holding my knees, I panted. As soon as I stopped, I heard the melodious chirping sound of birds from the place on my left. I glimpsed at that place, and sooner my glance was changed into a stare of wonder. There was a huge garden with varieties of trees and shrubs. At the center of the plot, there was a small hut, looking in the same condition as the post office. There was one thing in the garden that caught and held my attention, and on seeing it, my eyes grew bigger. It was a raspberry tree. I was drawn towards it. After a long time, I was seeing them, raspberries! My appetite was growing wildly, and I couldn't control myself. I climbed the tree as fast as I could and clung to its branch, gripped a handful of the raspberries, and...

"What are you doing here in my garden? Stealing!" A high-pitched voice came. I got distracted, lost my balance, and fell down with a loud THUD. All my raspberries were scattered. As I stood up, I saw an extremely old lady standing before me with a stern look and hands on her waist. She was peering at me through her thick spectacles. Her hair was completely white as snow. She looked a little fat. Her belly was protruding out, but her arms were thin as a stick, and the veins seemed to bulge out. Her face was covered with wrinkles, her eyes were deep, and her lips... I think they were not present because of their thinness.

I rose up while she walked towards me.

"Are you stealing?"

"No. Yes. Sorry."

"Don't you know its a bad habit?"

"Yes, but I terribly need them. I'm very sorry."

"You can also ask me. No need to steal."

"Will you give it to me if I ask?"

"You can see many houses here, but no one ever came to my house or garden. They never want anything. They neither help anyone nor want to be helped. You are the first child who has appeared here in years except..."

"Will you give it to me if I ask?" I asked with more emphasis.

She nodded.

All my grief was lost. Then she handed me a basket full of raspberries. She plucked them that morning. I began stuffing my mouth in no time. I had a habit, or, I should say, 'a problem'. Whenever somebody helped me with anything, I would accept that person as somebody very close to me.

I was carried away when she offered me raspberries and went too far to narrate everything about my strong affection for raspberries. That contained everything. When my grandpa brought them for the first time to our house, I loved them very much. When he left the home, the regular letters and boxes he used to send through a postman, I used to call him 'raspberry kaka', about our unique friendship, and unfortunately, his sudden death.

I kept on speaking, less concerned about whether she was listening or not.

"I wish you were not getting bored." I looked at her and said,.

No response was there. Her mouth was wide open, and her eyes bulged out. Her face appeared pallid, as though suffering from a serious illness. In short, she contained a horror expression. She was staring at me-no, I think in the air. I wanted to wake her up from that hypnotism, but her appearance horrified me.

Then her words came out in sorrowful whispers. "Except... except that postman who used to come here every morning to have a boxful of raspberries from me. Whenever I asked him about them, he used to reply with the phrase. 'It is just a present for a kid'. He never told me further about this."

I was unable to eat any more, nor was I able to swallow the stuff present in my mouth. I was dissolved in listening to her.

"I must not say that, but your stars are cursed. Alas! You have undergone two consecutive deaths of the person you love the most."

"Wh... who else had died?" I hesitated while asking.

"Haven't you been told? Your grandfather died around one month ago."

That time, I did not sit down but went furious.

"You're crazy, old lady! You have no right to say that. You're lying. I don't want your raspberries." Then I got up, kicked the basket, and all the raspberries were strewn on the ground. Then I dashed to leave.

"I knew he didn't tell you, but believe me, it is true."

"Why did he do this?"

"Only for you. Once, when he visited your grandfather, he got the news there that he had died due to an accident. That's why you hadn't gotten the letter. He was very upset. He didn't want to tell you and make you upset too. He knew that if you didn't get the letter, you would also get upset, and he never wanted that either. He had done everything to make you happy. How could he let you creep into sadness, then? Once he was passing by my house, he glimpsed at that thing you had-that raspberry tree. When I came out, I saw him on the branch of the tree, stealing raspberries. I took him for a thief, as I had done to you. Then he narrated me the entire story about your grandfather's death and you. I can understand in how much trouble he was. He begged me to have those raspberries only for you."

I was listening to her unblinkingly.

She continued, "...and I also couldn't refuse him. After a long time, I had someone enter my garden. I offered him raspberries and asked him how he was going to manage the letters. He replied, 'Don't worry about that. I work in a post office. I would manage to get some blank papers, stamps and envelopes from there. Then I would fill them up with sweet memories whenever I got time to write. It is quite odd that a postman writes a letter himself and delivers it too, only for that kid.' After that, he always used to come here, get a boxful of raspberries from me, and go meet you. He was overloaded with work but your smiles never reminded him his toil. He had taken the place of your grandfather and never let you know only because of his unconditional love for you."

Still, I was listening to her without saying a word. She looked up at the sky and sobbed.

"You should go now. You spent a long time here." Then she handed me a handful of raspberries and kissed my forehead. I promised her to come the next day and that I would have a light chat with her with raspberries. I ran down the street, and she waved as she went by, staring at me distantly until her vision blurred. I was no longer crying. Happiness had returned to my life after such a long time. I ran towards my house with quick steps and shaking bumps.

There, I met Monu. He was standing there without a bicycle. "Where were you?" He asked.

I got no answer to his question and left. He was quite suspicious regarding me, and it was true. I was not going to narrate to him the entire incident and all the past. Hardly had I reached my home when I saw a pile of suitcases and bags lying at the doorsteps, and some of the villagers and neighbors were standing there. Their faces expressed sadness. Suddenly, mom rushed out of the house and saw me. "Where were you?" That was the second time I kept Mom up-to-date on this question. After a pause, I replied, "I just went to the playground, but where are we going?"

"Your dad has got a transfer letter, and we are going to live in a town from now on. Quickly, go and wash yourself. We are ready to leave."

What was happening with me? Whenever I used to come to my home happily, someone was about to leave our house. The first was Grandpa, and now we. The only thing revolving around in my mind was that old, generous lady who offered me raspberries. Moreover, I had promised to visit her soon. It would hurt her when I didn't keep my promise. I wanted to stay. I didn't want to leave my village, but it was too late. I was just a puppet with strings that could be swayed in any direction. I had no scissors in my hands to cut those strings, but the only thing I had in my hands were the raspberry seeds of those I had recently eaten.

A bullock cart was standing there, and we were ready to leave. That atmosphere reminded me of the departure of my grandparents. "Hurry up!" Mom said that and dragged me out of my memories. I followed her and moved towards the cart. I loosen the grip on my hands and pour all the seeds into a spot on the ground. Past events were circulating in my mind, and I wished I had said goodbye to her so that she would not be longing to see me again. When I came back to my senses, I realized that I was on the cart, on my way, and far from my village.