Omen

It wasn't quite eleven o'clock, for everyone was watching Kyunki Saas bhi..., when all of a sudden everything went black.

“Mommy bho!!”, an innocent voice penetrated the silence.

“Roshni beta! Stay wherever you are. I'll get the torch”, a female responded while walking across the dark room. After some careful steps, she reached the other end of the room and lit a candle. It wasn’t a big room and by no means a luxurious one. It had a television set and a refrigerator in one corner, and an almirah and a small bed in others. Two odd chairs were placed near the almirah. Roshni, a nine year old girl, was sitting on one of them. Her textbooks and writing kit were scattered all over the place.

“Mommy! When will papa come?”, Roshni’s asked casually.

Her mother who was arranging news-papers in the T.V. stand, reached for the cell-phone.

“Soon!”, she replied while dialing a number on her cell phone. Unfortunately there was no network coverage.

“It's raining! It's raining!”, Roshni screamed from the balcony. Her mother rushed outside to get the washed clothes before they got wet in the rain.

“Mommy! What for breakfast?”, Roshni joyfully shot another question at her mother. She wasn't concerned about the answers but shooting random question was fun for her. It was an irritating exercise for her mother to entertain these inquiries. She was mechanically arranging clothes, putting slightly wet ones on the chairs.

The sound of continuous coughing caught her attention next. It was probably the old man who lived in the apartment below. There was a shop and a single room-kitchen set at the ground floor. The old man had been living there for long time. He used to work at the shop during the daytime and struggle to sleep at nights. He, however, never quitted smoking. He must have smoked another bidi. His pain was clearly audible.

“Mommy! My teacher says that smoking is a bad habit”, Roshni shared her wisdom. Her mother nodded and added that Daadu should quit smoking. The old man was not their blood-relative but every one used to call him Daadu. His age, fragile body and caring attitude earned him the title. He was one of the oldest residents of the locality.

It was a three storey building. The floor above was occupied by a widow. She had no immediate family. Her social life was limited to her monthly visits to the post-office for collecting pension. The petty amount was enough for her regular doses of supari. She couldn’t sleep without consuming tobacco and watching daily soaps. It was either an over age addiction or a way to kill time. The pleasure never came for free. Her toothless jaws were too delicate to chew the raw supari. She couldn’t afford expensive tobacco powders. She, however, enjoyed the pain of shattering it into tiny little pieces every night. She would gradually hit it with some heavy stone while humming old tunes. Her weak bones would never allow her to crush it in one blow. She would spend around half an hour, meticulously preparing a single dose. The complete process would create a rhythmic churning sound accompanied by her feeble humming. It was surely both an addiction and a time-killer for her.

Had there been no power-cut that night, all outside sounds would have gone unnoticed, but everything was clearly audible. It amused Roshni and annoyed her mother. She never liked that neighborhood. It was not a very promising place for a growing kid like Roshni. There was no play ground. It was very close to a heavily crowded road, but it was the only place Roshni's father could afford. He was working hard to save some money for an apartment in a better locality. He, at that time, was on a business trip to Delhi and was expected to arrive anytime.

The news-papers and the clothes couldn't keep Roshni's mother engaged for long time. She was steadily staring at the wall clock wishing to catch at least final few moments of her favorite television serial. As the clock struck eleven, her all hopes died and she went blank for a moment. The old man was still coughing at irregular intervals while the widow was vigorously grinding her tobacco. It annoyed her. She, out of frustration, pulled out an old magazine and started reading it in spite of dim lights. Roshni, on the other hand, was cheerfully playing with her doll, singing jingles occasionally.

A dog started crying suddenly. It was a scary howl and for a moment all other sounds were checked as if everyone got scared of it. Roshni also noticed it and found it cool. She was slightly over excited and was about to dance to these odd tunes when her mother grabbed her hand and forced her to sit peacefully. It was not a good omen. According to a common myth, dogs can see future, especially evil spirits who come to take someone on the final journey. When a dog cries in front of a house, a death is sure there. Roshni's mother shivered with sudden fear. The old man had stopped coughing by then. She looked out and saw a dog sitting opposite to their building. It was crying in deep pain.

“Mommy! Why is it crying?”

“It must be hungry beta!”, She guessed. She was actually convincing herself. She was not a superstitious lady. She was from a well-educated family who never believed such myths.

“Yes! It must be hungry”, she concluded and sat near Roshni.

“Is someone gonna die?”, Roshni asked innocently. It was not her another casual question. She demanded an answer that time and looked at her mother who was completely taken aback. How could a little child know about this myth? They never discussed these myths in front of her. She must have learnt it from the old lady or someone from the school.

“Who told you?... This is all wrong.” She furiously replied. “The dog is hungry. That's it. Go sleep now. Ain't you going to school tomorrow?”. She asked Roshni.

“But I won't go to school tomorrow.”, Roshni cheerfully declared.

“Why?”

“Because someone is gonna die tonight.”, Roshni presented her logic. Some months ago when Daadu's wife died, Roshni got a three day break. She was sent to her grand-mother's house. She learnt that day, ‘How cool deaths are!’. She loved to be with her grand-mother who would pamper her with interesting stories and delicious food. She would play with her cousins there. The crying dog gave her a hope of another such break.

“Stop saying it? Everything is fine.”, Her mother emphasized.

“It's just hungry.”, she added. “Just hungry.”

The next moment she was thinking over the possibility of a death in their building. Both the old man and the widow were potential candidates. The old-man was looking sick that very morning. She decided that she would ask Roshni's father to move to the ground floor after Daadu's departure. They would finally get rid of the daily supari-drama. Roshni would also love to move down; she thought and looked at her. Roshni was playing near the candle. She had just killed a small insect and was celebrating her victory.

“Stop it Roshni! One shouldn't hurt anyone.”, Her mother summoned her and resumed her death-hunting thoughts. She would probably not mind moving up in case of the widow's death. They would get a better cell-phone coverage there. Moreover, she could use the terrace for papad, mangodi and drying clothes. She felt delighted.

“Mommy! When will papa come?”, Roshni asked once again and unknowingly invoked a different thought process in her mother’s mind. Her mother got worried about Roshni’s father. Delhi recently had a series of bomb-blasts and it’s never safe to be outside. The old man and the widow were safe at the home, but anything could go wrong with Roshni's father. Another bomb-blast in a crowded place, a train mishap, a road accident; anything could possibly materialize the bad omen. She felt scared.

The dog was still crying. The drizzling had stopped and the painful howling was growing scarier every moment. She was completely lost in her thoughts and frozen to death. Roshni, all of a sudden, mimicked the crying dog, and howled. She started laughing after one howl, she was enjoying it. Before she could repeat it, her mother slapped her.

“Shut-up! I said”, Her mother was shivering with fear. The slapping was followed by three independent events. First, Roshni stopped howling and realized that imitating a crying dog wasn't a cool idea. Second, the locality got the normal power supply. Every electronic appliance breathed heavily for a moment and resumed the normal chorus. The candle slowly died down. And finally the cell-phone rang. It was Roshni's father. He had missed the train because of a traffic jam and would catch the next train after two hours. Everything settled down in a few minutes.

The old man was coughing next morning also. The widow was sleeping peacefully and Roshni was getting ready for school. At the far end of the street, the dog lay dead. The poor creature must really have been hungry last night.