The Mango Trees

by Isha Jain

He scratched around his hand wound before he reached for his bag. It had become a habit now. Something he knew aggravated it further, not letting it fully heal.

By the time he fished out his phone from the pocket of the bag, the call had already been disconnected. He sighed and put it back before resuming his disturbed slumber.

What was the point of calling back? It would entail the same monotonous conversation they had every time. They didn’t even tell each other that they missed each other now. He had stopped years ago. She turned wary of not hearing it back.

The next time it was an abrupt brake that jolted him up from his sleep. They had reached their destination. He stood up to get his bag, not caring that he was blocking the path for others. He was used to people huffing and grumbling after long hours of journey on local buses. Especially the tired mothers who couldn’t sleep the whole night because of their bawling babies. Those rides were the worst.

He started walking out of the bus station, dodging various Autowallas. He didn’t need them. It had been a long time since he came here. He started walking in the direction of the town to find a decent hotel.

By the time he got to his room, he knew that the trip was worthless. This wasn’t the place he was looking for. He wondered whether he would ever find a place that he liked, where he could settle down. He didn’t exactly know what he was looking for, but it was not in the hundreds of places he had visited. God knows why he came here.

He clutched her saree, looking up at her with tear-filled eyes, the last time he cried for her.

She ran her hand over his head and tried to smile at him. That usually entailed her saying yes to whatever he demanded, but this time she broke the eye contact and looked at his father.

There was nothing she could do. It was punishment for stealing mangoes from their garden after he was forbidden to.

His father took him away, kicking and screaming, "Maa, please! I will be a good boy! I promise!"

She let a tear fall before turning and going back into the house.

He banged on the windows with his tiny fists, sobbing till he couldn’t breathe.

What started as an adventurous career had turned tedious.

The air felt the same, the food didn’t taste any different, and the people turned into faceless entities.

The curious smile had slowly given way to a deep frown.

And the spark in his eyes had dimmed to the dullness of a man who had seen too much, with nothing left that he found pleasurable. This was the last place that he thought would suit him. He was done now. He would take up an office job and live in the city.

She ran her hands through his hair. “You look good with long hair.”

He remained quiet.

They were alone, sitting in the corridor in front of the principal's office. His parents were called in for his misbehavior. His father was in there talking to the furious man.

“What did you do this time?” she whispered in his ear.

“I just went for a walk.” He had a glint in his eyes.

“For how long?” She tried to hide her smile. It was not the first time.

“Two days.” He shrugged. He had only come back half an hour before his parents arrived.

“You must be tired then.” She rubbed his back and gave him water.

“They will have to kick me out, right?”

She took his face in her hand. “We should hope not, right?”

He turned his head away. “Of course.”

She stood up as his father came out of the office.

“They have let him off with the final warning this time. Next time, I will send you to Europe, young man! Do you hear me!? I am done with your antics!”

He gave his father a slight nod, not letting go of his mother’s hand, hoping she would convince his father to take their child home. See how miserable he was here.

She kissed his forehead. “Be good. I will see you soon.” She had to tug her hand away from his.

He turned his head away from her.

He had not gone back to his home since he left for the boarding school.

The year his father died, he was in the Himalayas, without network for days. When he found out, he had sent flowers that blended with the ones from distant relatives.

“Why don’t you come home, dear? You have time off.”

“I have enrolled in the drama society. We will practice during the vacations.”

“I have to finish some work.”

“I am going to a camp.”

“It’s too cold there right now. Maybe I will visit in the summers.”

“I won’t be able to. Next time.”

The phone rang for the second time that night. He ignored it. The view from his hotel was almost the same as the one he had growing up, but not quite.

When the phone rang again, he turned with the intention of picking it up. It was not her. So he let it ring.

He let out a sigh and picked up his bag. The sun was down as he walked the familiar path to his home. It hadn’t changed much since the last time he saw it.

He knocked once. Nobody answered. He hesitated before knocking one more time. When nobody answered the third time, he turned to leave.

“Yes?” He heard the voice of their caretaker. He clenched his fists tightly before he turned around to face him.

“Baba,” the old man expressed his shock and elation. “Come, come.” He made way for the young master.

“Where…where is she?”

The smile drained from the caretaker’s face. “She is not well. She is sleeping. You can meet her in the morning if you stay.” The last line had a bite to it.

He pursed his lips but gave the caretaker a small nod.

“I will fix your room.” As the old man went to his old room, he turned towards hers.

She looked frail. Lying there. Not the gracious beauty that he remembered from the last time he saw her at school. The servant came after him “She fell unconscious at the lunch table. The doctor has advised her to not take any stress.”

He noticed her phone lying on her side table. He gave the old man a slight nod as he settled down beside her bed.

He woke up to the feeling of something wet on his hand. He looked up to see his mother applying a homemade paste on his wound. She used to make the same for him whenever he came back with scratches on his knees after falling in the garden. “It won’t itch anymore.”

“How are you feeling?” He stood up as she wrapped a clean cloth around his hand.

“I am good.” She took his face in her hands. “I feel great.” Her eyes crinkled at the sides as she smiled. He saw a glimpse of the woman she was.

He couldn’t help but return her smile. It felt like he had done that after ages. “Good.” His gaze fell to the open window. His eyes grew wide at the sight.

She followed his gaze to the window. She let out a slight chuckle. “Oh, come!”

She took his hand, drawing him to the balcony. “They look so beautiful, don’t they?”

“Yes.” The land was covered with mango trees as far as he could see.

“You can still climb, right?” She poked his side with a teasing grin.

“Hmm…yes. God, I hope so.” He let out a low chuckle. He looked at her for a second before enveloping her in his arms as he let out a sigh of relief.

This was the place.

Home.