The Little Spirit

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The domestic help’s daughter Chutki was not a very tidy girl, though with a pair of beautiful fish shaped eyes and a facial contour akin to a goddess. Her parents had migrated from the foothills of the great Himalayas in Nepal in search of a better livelihood all the way to south India, Bengaluru, almost a year ago.

Both, the father and the mother of Chutki worked very hard for their only child’s better future. Besides they also sent a good portion of their hard earned money back home in Nepal to support their parents and their dependents, of the latter, to put it utmost euphemistically, though grown up siblings found the frugality of the village life far more bearable than the unpredictability and hardships of the distant land. And didn’t mind living on other’s money, rather to a few of them it seemed to be their right.

All of this left little time for Chutki’s parents to spend time caring for her. She accompanied her mother to the latter’s duties as a domestic help to different households since her father was out on his duty as a security guard to the nearby Information Technology Special Economic Zone. Her father was at home during the daytime, only on Sunday’s. And little Chutki did then stay back with her father at their single room concrete yet sans window shanty inside the apartment’s premises while her mother was away working.

In the absence of a proper care and hygiene at home Chutki did fall sick quite often. So much so that she had scars left by healed boils all over her limbs. This gave the beautiful little girl an unpleasant appearance although her innocent smile made up for what the scars took away.

One of the households she used to frequent with her mother inside the apartment complex and also enjoyed the most being there was that of Nafisa’s. Nafisa, a girl less than half her age was just a toddler barely able to walk. Her parents were both working to support themselves a decent lifestyle in an increasingly expensive city that Bengaluru was turning out to be, especially with respect to the real estate prices which were always sky rocketing.

While they loved Chutki coming to their home and playing with their daughter they were also very skeptical of Nafisa picking up some infections in the process. Chutki was very unclean most of the times and her parents paid very little attention to this. Nonetheless, Nafisa’s father ensured that Chutki once at their home had her hands and feet well washed besides being empathetic enough to ensure that Chutki’s mother while preparing the meal for his house shared the same with Chutki. And then Chutki and Nafisa both would have the same meal together yet sitting a little far apart. Occasionally, Nafisa’s father was left with a remorse for asking Nafisa’s nanny to keep his daughter a little away from Chutki or asking her to clean the toys the latter had played with. Maybe, it was a part of growing up for a child to get and recover from infections. Why do first time parents create such a tantrum about it? Maybe, parenthood for the first time, brings its own set of emotions and paranoia, especially if you are relatively economically well disposed.

It was an ill-fated that day! It must be! Chutki didn’t join her mother on her work that day. She stayed put with her father who was at home because of a weekly off for him.

Leaving the apple of his eye to play by herself outside their single room house inside the apartment’s premises he had gone a little too far sweeping the apartment’s premises. Too far to notice that her daughter had ventured out away from the safety of her house’s precincts to a danger lurking by. There was a makeshift concrete open water storage tanker beside the parking slot. Having climbed over the concrete tanker by stepping over some smaller bricks she had been playfully dangling her legs in the water when she lost her balance and slipped inside. The four by four feet structure was full to its brim and the poor soul didn’t know how to swim.

By the time he returned towards the entrance of the apartment where he had left his daughter to play, it was too late. Having found her daughter nowhere nearby, he called out her name in vain. And a desperate run to the makeshift concrete open water storage had the worst awaiting him. There as he lifted her limp less body he shrieked. As people rushed out of their apartments and neighbourhood on hearing his cries a failed cardiopulmonary resuscitation was attempted. Chutki’s pulse had given up. Forever.

It took more than a fortnight for Chutki’s mother to resume her work. And as she entered the house to cook the supper that evening it was difficult to behold her sight. There was no Chutki anymore backpacked upon her mother’s back or rested upon her waist and firmly strapped with her arm behind. That evening as Nafisa sat fidgeting over the see-saw under the watchful eyes of her father, the latter couldn’t help thinking about Chutki. His mind drifted pensively towards the now closed concrete structure which had swallowed Chutki away to a different world. He ambled towards it and stared at the closed lid over the structure with moist eyes unaware that he had left his daughter unattended near the see-saw.

A couple of minutes later his pensive spell was broken by the crackle of his toddler daughter from behind. He turned in panic only to find her toddler daughter firmly seated on the see-saw with her side of the see-saw lifted to its maximum in the air. He looked at the other end of the see-saw but there was no one seated there. He shrieked “Nafisaaa…” and ran springing up to her to grab her down to safety. And there as he did so he heard the familiar voice of Chutki yet again, “Uncle, I won’t allow any harm to beset upon her. Let me play with her. She is my best friend. And I am now always clean and tidy. As all innocent spirits are. Uncle, please!”.