Instructions for a second-hand heart (Slow Updates)

Chapter-2

The mango tree was waving merrily with the breeze. The rain or maybe it was the dark clouds that made its leaves look dark green. The tree out there was also my friend. He is a decade or so younger than me. But he looks humongous and I miss the days, I could climb on top of it and perch comfortably on one of its branches.

I miss those free days though in starting it was hard. I didn't understand why were we being left behind? Why mom-dad didn't want us? But with each passing day, it became bearable. When Nani looked perplexed as Nanu's pension wasn't enough for both Di and I to study in private schools.

Nani decided it will be di who'll study in private school and I understood the reason behind it. Di was in +1 her education was important. She needed good marks and education to get into a good college. I got into the local public school. It was a different world. Different rules.

No AC room, No English speaking teacher, No indoor assembly. No definite dress code. Some students had tattered books. Some didn't have books at all. There were broken benches. Peeling paints and a large blackboard. It was a different world. A bleak world yet there were sources of joy peeking through the doors and windows.

There were dreamers, magicians, storytellers, fighters, survivors all trapped in a single class. Seeking joys in the bare minimum. I learned the art from them.
Be kind and have the courage to stay happy.

I still remember Jatin's astonished question, "You buy fruits?"

And I laugh more at the naivety of my own statement back then -"Yes, you don't, "
I thought it was compulsory to buy fruits from the supermarket or something. I was so silly.

"Absolutely not, who buys fruits? We get them from trees and temples, "
Jatin had taught me the fine art very seriously.

And from then everything on this whole planet was our land. We were rebels. We were rulers. We were kids dreaming. Running through the whole village with wheels. Plucking mangoes from the mango orchards, Jamun (Indian blueberry) from Jamun trees, ber from ber trees. Everything seemed easy then, everything felt ours. Everything was in our grasps.

And I miss those days of freedom. I miss jumping in the canal. I miss running through the farms. I miss climbing trees most of all. I miss those simple days.

Days where I didn't have to grow up. Days where I didn't have to worry about surviving on scholarships. Days where I didn't have to fear my heart failing me any moment.

And I miss Nani. I still remember her last days. It was hard. More than half of di's salary was being spent on her medicine and we didn't have enough for my admission fees.

Thirty-six thousand rupees were just too much for us. We couldn't conjure it immediately and I had decided to forsake my dream of studying food technology then. I could study at a local college. Do BSC. or something? Anything we can afford.

And not for the first time in my life. I felt the kindness of others. Unasked help. Jatin told my physics teacher my problem. My physics teacher told my other teachers about my problem and all the teachers collaborate and donated to raise my fund in time. They did my admission.

I couldn't thank them enough. Like I couldn't thank the driver who took Nani to doctor's check-up every month without asking us for payment. Like I couldn't thank my college's peon for feeding me when I didn't have extra money to buy food. All the people that helped me when they didn't have too. The stranger angels.

I could never thank them enough. For they taught me kindness. For they taught me the art of being kind and helping. You never know what's the other is going on through and your one kind gesture could be everything for them. I can't thank them enough for always showing empathy.