Rikara Scribblings by Savina

Oh Saaware : Part 1

Part One

"Om... dude, wait up!" Samarth yelled, causing Omkara to stop in his tracks. "Sam, leave me alone!" Omkara roared, and Samarth Khanna knew better to stay put, than stop this sixteen-year old raging lion. For a moment, he felt sorry. Having gone through the trauma himself of his parents getting divorced, Sam could only imagine what Om was going through when his dad- Tej Singh Oberoi had made his relations with Swetlana Kapoor a public scandal. Matters were even more complicated when Jhanvi Singh Oberoi refused to divorce her husband. And in between all this mess, Omkara was finding it a hard time to concentrate on his studies and his upcoming board exams.

It was just yesterday when the whole batch of class Ten landed in a remote village of Bareilly for a rural study camp, as a part of their curriculum, where they would be staying for four days; and that was when Miss. Swetlana Kapoor decided to make a grand entry along with Tej, to meet Omkara and make sure that he wasn't facing any problem while living the village life. An embarrassed and angry Omkara had stormed out of the school and almost raced to the open fields to divert his mind from his Father and the mistress, while his best friend- Samarth tried his best, in vain, to calm him down. "Promise me you'll be back by sunset, at least?" Sam said, and Omkara grew more irritated. He wasn't used to so much of care and concern, except from his brother Shivaay. "Go away, Sam. I'll be back when I feel like it..." And so, Sam left, unwillingly.

Omkara walked to the open fields and kicked a stone as he walked. For every few steps he took, he kept kicking a few stones, channeling his temper, until he heard a shrill voice scream in pain. It turned out that the stone he had kicked had hit someone; probably a child. He could now hear the little one crying; and feeling guilty about his unintended mistake, he ran ahead to see who it was.

Gauri Kumari Sharma, aged eight, was happily seated on the makeshift swing tied to the huge tree, gorging on the jalebis that her Babuji had bought for her. Chirpily singing to herself and talking to the birds around, she tried to move the swing by swaying her legs back and forth, and grinned victoriously when she was able to swing it on her own. "Dekha?" she happily told a bird that was perched on the branch of the tree, "Aisakuchbhinahihai jo Gauri Kumari Ssarmanahikarsakti..." Just when she was about to take a large bite from the jalebi she was holding to celebrate her little feat, a tiny stone came flying by and hit her hand, causing the whole packet of jalebis to fall in the mud. And then, a young fellow, probably a sehri-babu (a guy from the city), came by her and looked at her worried, as she sniffed at the sugary jalebis now coated in mud.

"Hey... are you hurt?" he asked, examining her from afar for any injury; she was a tiny girl and could have been hurt easily. "Ekjhaapmeindeewar pe sattjaibe..." he heard this little girl say, and was taken aback, while she continued, "Ektohhamari jalebi giradiya, aur oopar se humehattnekeliyekehrahehain? Hamaregaavnmeinaakeaaphumeinhatayenge? Badtameezchirotakahinke..." Omkara looked thoroughly confused at her lingo, and then understood that she didn't comprehend what he said. He chuckled and the little girl's nostrils flared, "Aap hum par hassrahehain? Dekhiye, hum kadh (height) meinchotehain, iskematlabeenahikeaaphumeinkisi se kamsamjhein!" Omkara now laughed, and the girl grew angrier. She picked up a stone to throw at him, as if shooing him away, and that was when Omkara realised he could face some serious damage if he didn't shut up. "Sorry, maafi..." he said politely, holding his ears, and she frowned, "I was just asking ketumhechottohnahilagi? Maine galti se patthar mara. Tumhechotpahuchane ka bilkuliradanahithamera. Sorry..." She sniffed a sob and then pointed at the muddy ground, "Hamarijalebiyaan..." she wailed louder.

"Toh tum isliyerorahihokyunkitumharimithaiyaangir gai? Isliyenahiketumhechotlagi?" She shook her head. Omkara then watched the girl animatedly tell him how she loved those jalebis which her father brought for her every Friday when he returned from work, and how she loved to sit on the swing and eat those piping hot sweets while watching the sunset at the fields. He observed how cute she looked with those chubby cheeks, her plaited hair, her knee-length frock and her reddish nose, with all the crying she just did.

"Agar main tumhekal jalebi laake doon, tohmujemaafkarogi?" he asked her, still guilty that he made her cry, and she placed her hands on her hips. "Hum aapkomaafnahikarenge! Aur waisebhi, aapkahan se layenge jalebi? Aapkebabujikedukaan se?" He laughed aloud this time, and she was almost sure that this city-fellow had probably lost his mind to laugh at everything she was saying. "Main usidukaan se lekeaaunga, jisdukaan se tumharebabujitumhareliye jalebi laatehain..."

Now, it was her turn to laugh. "Aap khud school jaateho, tohaapkepaas paise kahan se honge? Badrinath ji ki dukaan se koi muft ki mithai nahilekejaasakta. Woh kisi ko udhaarbhinahidete. Aur wohaapkechachathodihain, keaapkoaise hi mithai denge!" Omkara smiled at her, "Main unsemuftmeinnahi, paise deke jalebi laungatumhareliye." Her frightened gasp made him worried. "Aap school jaatehain, phirbhiaapkepaas paise hain? Kya aapkeamma-babujibhi, Chamkikeamma-babuji ki tarah, aapkokaam pe bhejtehain, paise kamanekeliye?"

Omkara's face fell; if only he could tell this little girl that his parents had no time to care for him, and that is why they substituted their love and time with money. "Kya hua?" she asked, this time tugging at the sleeve of his uniform shirt. "Kuchnahi... Maine kaha na, main tumhareliye jalebi lekeaaunga. Kyun, kaise... uskifikar mat karo..." She frowned again, with her hands on her hips, "Lekinaapitneutavlekyunhain, hamareliye jalebi laanekeliye? Hum tohapkojaantebhinahi?" and even before she could get a reply, she gasped again, "Kahinaapwohbacchachortohnahi, jo chotebacchon ko uthakelekejatahain?" Omkara shook his head, almost scandalized that she compared him to some kidnapper, "Nahinahi, main koi bacchachornahihoon. Mera naam Omkara Singh Oberoi hai; main Mumbai se hoon aur main tenth standard meinpadhtahoon, Presidency school mein." She eyed him cautiously, and he rolled his eyes before flashing the ID card in front of her eyes.

After a few seconds, she smiled at him. "Hamara naam Gauri Kumari Sarrmahai, hum..." "Ek minute..." he interrupted her, "You mean, Sharma, right?" he asked, cocking his brow. She mirrored his expressions, "Haantohhumnebhiwohi kaha... Sarrma..." Omkara chuckled, "Sha... not Sa... Sharrrma..." "Sarrma" she said, confusedly. "Whatever..." Omkara muttered, and let her continue.

"Haan, toh hum hain Gauri Kumari Sarrma, doosripaasphrom Bareilly. Hum hamare Amma-Babujikeeklauti aur laadlibetihain; toh agar koi bacchachorhumeinuthane ki kosiskare, tohhamarebabujiunhe maar maarkeunki chutney banadenge... Aur, humeinkushtiladnibhiaatihai..." Omkara now looked thoroughly surprised, "Kushti? You mean, mittimein you roll and fight?" Gauri frowned; what kind of a school boy was this who did not know about kushti? Maybe it wasn't so popular in Mumbai. "Haan..." she said with a grin, happy to realise she had intimidated this city-boy, "Bittuke papa dangalmeinladtehain... Toh jab hum bittukegharjatehain, tohwahindekhkeseekhliya..."

"Gauriii..." a voice called out, and she immediately turned around, "Aayi Amma..." she replied aloud. Then turning to this city boy, she said, "Humeinjaanahai... chaltehain..." He called her back, "Tum kalyehin pe milogina, Gauri?" She nodded, "School kebaad hum yahinhonge. Aur haan, hum phir se yaaddilarahehain, humeinkushtiaatihai..." saying this, she ran away, and Omkara couldn't help but grin, as he looked at her running away through the fields.

Making his way back to the camping area, he had a pleasant smile on his face. Samarth couldn't help but be relieved to see that his brother-friend was back, and also teased him about what was he so happy about? "I met a girl..." Om said, and Samarth winked while raising a brow, "Was she hot? Like the typical gaavn ki gori? Was she carrying some earthen pots on her head and at her waist, and did you break one of those pots, drenching her from head to toe?"

Omkara looked annoyed, "She was eight years old!" Samarth rolled his eyes, "So you were playing with a kid?" Om grinned, "Not playing... I was talking to her." Samarth almost choked on his food, "Talking? Please tell me you did not confuse the child with your poetic language? Poor girl!" Om whacked his head, "No, but I promised to meet her tomorrow. You should come too. She's sweet and..." Samarth shook his head, "Sorry, I'm not interested to play around with kids. I'd rather stay here and watch Anamika Ma'am..." Om rolled his eyes as Sam stared dreamily at their teacher, who was making an announcement that it was bedtime for the students. That night, as they all went to bed, and while Samarth spoke about Anamika Ma'am and her hotness, all that a smiling-Omkara could focus was on just one sentence, "Ekjhaapmeindeewar pe sattjaibe..."