Hamelin er Bashiwala

A few minutes after the sunset, a hazy figure appeared at the farthest horizon. His cream white robe was discernible from a great distance, setting a torrent of infinite excitement among all the small kids, who all were hitherto concentrating hard on their afternoon games. Maybe because of our anticipation, maybe because we knew he was coming….a tall dark, upright person in his late sixties, with glasses, returning back from his grocery shop. We called him ‘Dadu’. His identity was unknown to all of us. But he was a person of great interest. Every day he brought a small white container, filled with candies, which he would open in front of us with his frail old hands, exposing the world of pleasure…those were meant for us…the cause of our exuberance, the fuel for our shouts. We used to rush towards him and flock around him nearly begging for the candy. It was almost like a hard-earned prize for us. The color of the candies added to our fascination, as the green one was the tastiest and coveted. The person getting the green candy would be the day’s winner. His mere presence used to make us ecstatic. After our, all afternoon games were over we used to be too much hesitant to return back home unless ‘Dadu’ shows up. Some of us used to wait near the point from where he used to enter our colony, and take candy from him and then come back running towards the playground to have another along with the other children.

The man was a fascination with our guardians too, because of his unknown identity. Some used to say that he was an alone old man with no son or daughter…seemed a logical explanation for a person to give away so many candies to a large group of children. Some even got suspicious of his attitude, and tried to warn their wards from his candies…laughable explanations…pathetically failed to vitiate his image. The candies were like our right, our achievements, and the cause for spending two hours on the playground. No warning could have stopped us.

We used to be busy throughout the year due to our tiring academic schedule. In the midst of troubles with marks, curricular activities, coping up with all the donkeywork, we almost forgot about ‘Dadu’. And finally at the end of the year when we emerged out of the billows of monotonous grinds, we realized that he is not coming anymore. We had no trace of his background or didn’t even know his name. We sulked for few days…the frenzied kids turned to their parents for help, and the hapless parents would make up stories, consoling us that they have met him and he is going to return, provided we study well and bring good marks. Insatiable kids used to stare long at the farthest horizon, where he used to appear, but our hopes were unanswered. Reluctantly we sauntered into our rooms and stooped into the dull black and white pages of the text books with numb looks. Slowly we almost forgot him. The tall imagery was slowly pushed into the pit of oblivion as we got ourselves busy in the daily drudgeries...We grew up!!! It has been so many years now, that we haven’t seen that tall dark façade, walking upright in cream white. We are all grown up now, with jobs and pockets full of money and thus we don’t even care wasting money behind the tips of a snazzy restaurant. But those days were special. The varicolored candies had a different appeal to us…the ebullient rush, the mendicancy, the pristine smile of achievement after receiving one of the precious candies…‘Dadu’ was our hero…we didn’t even care to ask his name or know where he lived. We know this Mr. Nemo only as a person who used to appear from one corner of the colony road and then vanished into thin air leaving behind so colorful moments.