Fallen Leaves - Chapter 6
Adam Ayub
During my final year in College, we decided to go on an excursion. We avoided the official excursion planned by the college and made our own plans. Actually, it was organized by my friends. We thought it would be fun to go to Madras. I did not take part in the planning of the excursion because I knew my parents could not spare the money. So I kept a low profile and pretended to be disinterested in the program. When the expenses per head were worked out, I told them I would not be coming. My friends were shocked! They said they could not imagine an excursion without me. I was imaginatively creative and came up with several reasons why I couldn’t go with them but they overruled every excuse of mine. Finally, I confided about my financial problem. They all put their heads together and decided to share my expenses. I protested. I could not allow them to do that. But they did not listen to me. They went ahead and booked the tickets.
When I told my mother about this, she thought for a while and said “You should not go entirely on their expense. That will be humiliating. I will give you the money at least for your travel”. I was surprised.’ “But how will you manage?” I asked. She did not say anything. She was rearing a goat at home for milk those days. The animal was very cute with a brilliant white body and a black patch on the forehead. My Mother had named her Laila. She used to give her a bath once in two days to keep her body spotlessly white. She sold Laila and gave me the money. Tears welled up in her eyes when a man led her out of our gate by a rope tied to her neck. When my mother offered me the money, I could not control my tears. My mother had made such a big sacrifice for my sake.
I was thus able to join the excursion with my friends with the money my mother gave me. We reached Madras and booked ourselves into a lodge near the Railway station. We spent the whole day sight seeing. At night, somebody suggested that we drink beer. Not one of us had tasted liquor before. We purchased a few bottles of beer and a few packets of peanuts. All of us assembled in one room. We managed to collect some glasses from the room service boy. We closed the door and began our celebrations.
“Smoking the first cigarette and sipping the first glass of liquor are considered the first signs of maturity among boys”, declared Nanda Kumar sagely. “I matured early” I said. “I smoked my first cigarette when I was in Grade VII!” We poured the beer into glasses. Everybody lifted their glasses and said “Cheers!” I lifted the glass to my lips. Suddenly, my mother’s tear filled eyes flashed in my mind. Holding a bundle of notes in her hand, she was watching her pet goat Laila being taken away by the butcher. I put the glass down. She had done a supreme sacrifice for me and here I was spending that money to drink liquor!
My friends asked me, “What happened? You didn’t even taste it”. “I don’t want it”. I said.
“Oh, come on” they said in chorus.
“Please don’t force me, I won’t take it” I said and walked towards the closed door.
There was a lump in my throat as I thought of my mother’s sacrifice. I didn’t want my friends to see the wetness in my eyes. I opened the door and stepped out into the corridor.
I closed the door gently behind me.
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