[Goanet] Damini Mane: Rakhandar -- The Guardian
It was the time of the Saptha, the seven days of celebrations devoted to God Damodar, when I would meet my cousins and their families. Like every other group of kids, we too were mischievous and curious. It was that time of the year when my great great aunt would visit us in Vasco. All of us kids called her Ayi. She was really old, had a face full of wrinkles, but sharp eyes and a voice that held command. Nobody spoke against her, her word was final; but with us kids she was always very friendly. Despite being so old she stood in a queue with us, she wore a cotton saree in the kashti style. She would talk for hours together. You might say she would get tired because of her age, but no, she was always ready with an argument or discussion when anything came up. I was way younger then. It was a tiring and boring task to just stand in the queue, as we kids would be very fidgety. We tried to run, but with her heavy voice she'd say, 'If you run again, you won't get any of the sweets or presents I brought for you. This is a sacred temple of Lord Damodar. You should stand in a queue and thank God Damodar for protecting us from all evil.' That's when it started. I got more curious, how was He protecting us? Is there magic in the air or was He watching us? Like, if I ran and fell on the ground, would he avert the fall? Or would he make my wound disappear? These were the questions I fired off to Ayi when we got back home. It was dinner time when we all sat together and ate in peace. The questions were still going around in my mind and I could not help but place them before Ayi. She called us all to the balcony where we spread a mat and sat on it. Usually this setting was more for stories and games. Even this time, Ayi was about to tell us a story. We waited in anticipation. She always had such awesome stories, ones that even lasted weeks. She sat on the wooden armchair which had an extended arm. She sighed and told us to huddle closer and listen to what she was saying. 'Tonight, I'm going to tell you something very interesting, so listen carefully. Do you remember Ramesh from our vaddo (hamlet)? Well it's about him.' Ramesh was a constable. So he usually reported for night duties. A very cunning fellow he would take bribes. To top it all, he was a bully. Once, he was at his night duty, chatting with his friends. It was around midnight. He found himself all alone and everything had gone quiet. He saw an old man in a bright white dhoti, a black kurta and white cloth around his neck, passing by. He had a thick stick and it had a bunch of ghungroo (small metallic bells strung together) attached to it. With every step, his ghungroo would make a sound. He wore Kolhapuri chappals. With every step, the chappals would make a creaking sound as if he had been walking for a long time. Ramesh saw him and simply went behind the old man. He used his stick to bang on the ground in a classic, constable way and said, `Hey, who are you? Go away from here'. The old man stalled for a few seconds, but he did not turn to look back at Ramesh. Very rudely, the constable called him names, but the old man did not respond; he just continued walking. It was about time for Ramesh to be relieved of his duty. He went inside the station and packed his bag. When he sat on his bike, his eyes itched a lot. He couldn't figure out why. By the time he reached home, his eyes were bloodshot and red. Sleep might cure it, he thought. On the next day, when Ramesh opened his eyes, it was dark. He thought he was dreaming but he could feel his eyes blinking. Suddenly he realised the horrible reality. He screamed continually for he had lost his eyesight. Nothing had changed, yet I felt the atmosphere changing. Ayi didn't stop though. She started with her next story. So this one was about Ignacio, whose house was near the church. Remember the person whose son would bring us chocolates? Many years back, they had a tragic incident in their family. His daughter had been admitted to the hospital. Ignacio and his wife would stay in the hospital with his daughter, but sometimes he had to go back alone at night. On such days, he would walk all the way from the hospital to his house. Once, on such a night, he was walking along the road. That night he was feeling uneasy. With his carrybag clutched close to his chest, he was walking in the dark. He continued to walk a short distance further and then stopped. He felt as if someone was following him. Again and again, he would walk and stop to confirm that nobody was behind him. After a few steps, he heard a motorcycle coming but he refrained from asking for a lift. Ignacio heard its horn and the vehicle stopped. The bike stopped right beside him. He could not see its rider's face properly in the dark. 'Hey Ignacio, are you heading home at
[Goanet] Damini Mane: Rakhandar -- The Guardian
It was the time of the Saptha, the seven days of celebrations devoted to God Damodar, when I would meet my cousins and their families. Like every other group of kids, we too were mischievous and curious. It was that time of the year when my great great aunt would visit us in Vasco. All of us kids called her Ayi. She was really old, had a face full of wrinkles, but sharp eyes and a voice that held command. Nobody spoke against her, her word was final; but with us kids she was always very friendly. Despite being so old she stood in a queue with us, she wore a cotton saree in the kashti style. She would talk for hours together. You might say she would get tired because of her age, but no, she was always ready with an argument or discussion when anything came up. I was way younger then. It was a tiring and boring task to just stand in the queue, as we kids would be very fidgety. We tried to run, but with her heavy voice she'd say, 'If you run again, you won't get any of the sweets or presents I brought for you. This is a sacred temple of Lord Damodar. You should stand in a queue and thank God Damodar for protecting us from all evil.' That's when it started. I got more curious, how was He protecting us? Is there magic in the air or was He watching us? Like, if I ran and fell on the ground, would he avert the fall? Or would he make my wound disappear? These were the questions I fired off to Ayi when we got back home. It was dinner time when we all sat together and ate in peace. The questions were still going around in my mind and I could not help but place them before Ayi. She called us all to the balcony where we spread a mat and sat on it. Usually this setting was more for stories and games. Even this time, Ayi was about to tell us a story. We waited in anticipation. She always had such awesome stories, ones that even lasted weeks. She sat on the wooden armchair which had an extended arm. She sighed and told us to huddle closer and listen to what she was saying. 'Tonight, I'm going to tell you something very interesting, so listen carefully. Do you remember Ramesh from our vaddo (hamlet)? Well it's about him.' Ramesh was a constable. So he usually reported for night duties. A very cunning fellow he would take bribes. To top it all, he was a bully. Once, he was at his night duty, chatting with his friends. It was around midnight. He found himself all alone and everything had gone quiet. He saw an old man in a bright white dhoti, a black kurta and white cloth around his neck, passing by. He had a thick stick and it had a bunch of ghungroo (small metallic bells strung together) attached to it. With every step, his ghungroo would make a sound. He wore Kolhapuri chappals. With every step, the chappals would make a creaking sound as if he had been walking for a long time. Ramesh saw him and simply went behind the old man. He used his stick to bang on the ground in a classic, constable way and said, `Hey, who are you? Go away from here'. The old man stalled for a few seconds, but he did not turn to look back at Ramesh. Very rudely, the constable called him names, but the old man did not respond; he just continued walking. It was about time for Ramesh to be relieved of his duty. He went inside the station and packed his bag. When he sat on his bike, his eyes itched a lot. He couldn't figure out why. By the time he reached home, his eyes were bloodshot and red. Sleep might cure it, he thought. On the next day, when Ramesh opened his eyes, it was dark. He thought he was dreaming but he could feel his eyes blinking. Suddenly he realised the horrible reality. He screamed continually for he had lost his eyesight. Nothing had changed, yet I felt the atmosphere changing. Ayi didn't stop though. She started with her next story. So this one was about Ignacio, whose house was near the church. Remember the person whose son would bring us chocolates? Many years back, they had a tragic incident in their family. His daughter had been admitted to the hospital. Ignacio and his wife would stay in the hospital with his daughter, but sometimes he had to go back alone at night. On such days, he would walk all the way from the hospital to his house. Once, on such a night, he was walking along the road. That night he was feeling uneasy. With his carrybag clutched close to his chest, he was walking in the dark. He continued to walk a short distance further and then stopped. He felt as if someone was following him. Again and again, he would walk and stop to confirm that nobody was behind him. After a few steps, he heard a motorcycle coming but he refrained from asking for a lift. Ignacio heard its horn and the vehicle stopped. The bike stopped right beside him. He could not see its rider's face properly in the dark. 'Hey Ignacio, are you heading home at
