The Last Gambit by Om Swami

Author:Om Swami
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Lotus
Published: 2017-01-31T23:00:00+00:00

THE RIGHT TO DREAM

‘WHAT DID YOU want to tell me the other day, Rea?’ I said as soon as I met her. Even before asking how she was doing and the rest of that formality.

‘It’s a beautiful sunny day, isn’t it?’

‘Rea.’

‘Let’s talk about your tournament,’ she said.

‘No!’ I insisted. ‘First you tell me.’

‘Can we not talk about this some other time?’

‘Now! Please.’

‘Vasu,’ she said. ‘I fear that you’ll start hating me.’

‘The suspense is killing me, Rea!’

‘Will you keep it to yourself?’

‘Just say it!’

‘Okay, Vasu,’ she said gravely. ‘Don’t hate me afterwards.’

I became nervous, as if I was about to play against a grandmaster. I had no clue what her next move would be. The longer the silence stretched, the more tense I got. Rea lowered her head. Her hands absent-mindedly played with the hem of her skirt that ended right below her bony knees. She fumbled with her words a couple of times, let out a deep sigh and then looked me straight in the eye.

‘I’m an adopted child.’ ‘What?’

Before I could say more, she continued, ‘The matron at the orphanage said that I was found abandoned outside a tobacco shop, a small stall. It was on Shivaratri. A few metres away, to the right of the stall, was a mosque where the muezzin was calling out azan from the minaret. And to the left, at about an equal distance, was a Shiva temple where they were chanting eulogies to Shiva. My adoptive mother, sometimes in a fit of rage, is quick to remind me that they don’t even know if it’s Hindu or Muslim blood running in my veins. I’m an outcast. I’ve no identity of my own—’

‘Oh, Rea—’

‘Let me finish, Vasu,’ she continued in a sombre tone. ‘Mama says that they didn’t adopt me because they wanted a daughter. They did it because they wanted someone who could take care of their autistic son. Papa, however, disagrees with mama and never fails to express his love for me. Whether it’s buying new shoes, clothes, sending me away on school camps, or giving me a chocolate every day, he has always gone beyond his means to care for me. And I do love Rahul. He’s the sweetest brother in the world. He’s a real brother to me even though I am not related to him by birth. I spent the first seven years of my life in an orphanage.’

She vividly remembered her last three years at the orphanage. People would often donate blankets and socks in winter, but they were taken away from them soon after the donor left. She couldn’t understand why then, but had now figured out that the custodians would sell it in the market and embezzle the money. They used to look forward to Holi and Diwali because some generous patrons would come and distribute sweets to them. These were the only times that the kids would know what the taste of sweets and candies felt like.

She didn’t go to bed hungry, she said, but never on a full tummy either.

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