Fiction. Euphoria is the
story of a neglected child who grows up a wasted youth. An incident in the
village makes him flee. On his journey he experiences life as it is and returns
homes several years later entirely a different man.

‘PLUTTT..’ went the pebble in
water as Baboo stared at the waves it made in the lake. He had always enjoyed
this scene_ the waves drifting apart from the centre and vanishing at a
distance. He too wanted to disappear, just fade away like the waves. He had
always been fascinated by this small lake the river formed at this place on the
village’s boundary and it was his favourite hangout every time there was a scene
at home. It was another rough day. Baboo had received a sound beating from his
father in the morning for insisting that he didn’t want to go to school. The
previous evening he had broken his leg as he fell from the tree trying to pick
the apples. Fazloo, the land owner had spotted him from the Dera and was
rushing toward him at full speed. Baboo had been expert at climbing tress but
this time his foot slipped in confusion and he had landed on the right leg thus
breaking the bone below the knee. He had been unable to complete his home work
and feared that Master jee would punish him for his negligence.
‘You can tell
Master jee that you had an injured leg and so you couldn’t complete the work
because of pain, he’d let you go’, had said his father as Baboo left home
dragging himself on the crutches. But as feared, Baboo received a slap in the
face from Master jee and ended up on the ground two feet away.
‘I’d see how
you completed your work had you got a broken leg the previous evening’, Baboo
was lashing at Master jee in his imagination.
Then back at home he was
severely scolded by his mother. The plate had slipped from his hand and broken
into pieces as he finished his lunch. Baboo threw another pebble in water and
watched the waves as they disappeared at a distance.

Time went by and Baboo
was now a grown up lad. Life was the same as it always had been. He saw a
similarity between himself and the river_ both were going on and yet both of
them were static. Unlike expected, Baboo had done well in studies but it didn’t
make much difference. He had to hear a lot at home having wasted all his time.
He was such a wasted youth, he thought, a worthless being that no one cared for.
At times he questioned his existence, why he was alive and what was the purpose
of his life. But the pebbles always gave him some hope. ‘Everything has been
created for a reason’, he thought of pebbles that he had been throwing in the
river for years in order to enjoy seeing the waves. He had a round pebble in his
hand. These pebbles looked so beautiful, he thought. They were round, smooth and
multicolour. He was impressed by the designs that different colours made on
them. He then threw it from a leaning angle and watched it with excitement as it
jumped twice on the water’s surface before it found its way down. The river was
his friend, he thought, it had never hurt his feeling and rather it always
consoled him. Seeing reflection of the moon in the river had always been
fascinating, especially it was amazing to watch its distorted image getting back
to normal when he made waves in water and also was great to see the sun set
behind Chaudhry sahab’s villa located on the other side of the river. ‘Some day
I would ask for the hand of Chaudhry sahab’s daughter’ Baboo told himself.

The river had a story
of its own. It had changed the lives of many. Several people of the village had
made their fortunes by finding precious pearls from it. It was said that the
river originated from a place near the Black Mountains,
that one of the mountains was a solid rock rich with precious stones and
whenever it rained heavy on the mountains some of the stones would flow into the
river. But the Black Mountains had always been shrouded
with mystery. Everyone who set out to look for the Black
Mountains either returned soon disappointed or never returned,
except one man who had gone there a long time ago but returned empty handed and
only lived to tell the tale. The river, however, had never been that kind to
Baboo who always thought that the pebbles by the river side had taken some
qualities form the pearls of the Black Mountains and that’s why they looked so
beautiful to him. ‘I would go to the Black Mountains some
day and make my own fortune’, thought Baboo.

The villagers had a
way of their own. Baboo had never been favourite with them. Some considered him
a vagabond while to others he was a haunted fellow, a psychic. His childhood
friends left him one by one but all this was least that Baboo cared for.

The sun was setting
behind Chaudhry sahab’s villa. There was a great noise at the villa and in
curiosity Baboo thought to walk around a little and find out himself. When he
reached near the villa’s gate he saw several fingers pointed at him. Someone had
stolen Begum sahiba’s precious necklace and Baboo was named the culprit because
he had usually been spotted near the villa at nights. In confusion Baboo ran
toward his home but just as he entered the door he was welcome by scornful eyes
of his mother and a hatchet in his father’s hand. The news had spread like fire
and everyone was out looking for Baboo because Chaudhry sahab had promised a
reward for anyone who captured Baboo alive or brought him dead. Poor Baboo was
on the run with the whole village running after him madly. He took to the river,
kept on running at full speed and never looked back. Just when he passed near
the lake he looked at Chaudhry sahab’s villa for the last time, he could imagine
the hatred his love of life had for him right now.

Baboo had reached the
forest now and was exhausted. He was already quite away from the forest and was
not being chased any more. In utmost disgust he thought of the options he had.
There was certainly no turning back as the people of the village were thirsty
for his blood. He had nowhere to go. He thought of the life he had lived_
useless. He had never done good to anyone nor did anyone like him. He looked at
the river and told himself that he was heading for the Black
Mountains. ‘I shall make my own destiny’ Baboo told himself. Ever
since he got a broken leg it was the first time that he had run so fast and the
pain he felt reminded him of his past life which was all pain and no respite.
‘Why would someone deploy a bomb to kill a fly?’ he thought, ‘they could have
told me to leave the village and I would have readily done that.’

It was getting dark
already and Baboo wanted to cross the forest before the night fell. He had found
a good long stick to help him walk and it could also be used as a weapon if the
situation so demanded. He was able to find an old pouch that he filled with
pebbles he could use to ward off the animals. He had also picked some apples
from the forest and he wasn’t much worried about food, it was enough for the
next few days. He increased his pace and as he left the forest behind he was the
farthest from home he ever had.

Baboo had been walking
for several months now. He crossed one forest after the other and even though
staying by the side of the river could be risky at night when the animals came
there looking for water he didn’t prefer to leave it lest he should lose his
way. First there came a series of forests that put Baboo in fear of being
attacked by wild beasts and then the forests vanished all of a sudden. For the
whole last week he had been passing through wild shrubs. His stock of fruit had
also finished and he had eaten nothing for the last two days. By the evening of
the second day he was hardly dragging himself. He would wet his head in water
and it soothed him a bit. But things were beginning to get worse. Baboo had been
bitten by a snake and the Baboo who was hardly dragging himself a while ago was
on the run now. Soon he started feeling dizzy and was lying flat on the ground
as he closed his eyes.

Baboo opened his eyes
and found himself lying in a hut being tended by an elderly woman. Right then
two young men entered the hut and told him that they had gone fishing and found
him by the river and that his wound had been taken care of just in time or he
would have already been dead by now. Baboo wanted to tell them that he had no
soul and was worse than the dead but he couldn’t speak a word.

For four days, Baboo
remained flat on the cot and was able to stand only on the fifth day. He was
given good food and tended very well. He came out of the hut to walk around a
bit. The village wasn’t too far from the river but it was the first village that
he had seen since he left home. ‘I travelled alongside the river and maybe I
have left several villages behind’ he thought. What surprised him was that he
didn’t get any staring looks from anyone. He returned to the hut in the
afternoon where the inmates were waiting for him on lunch.
‘Who are you and
where are you heading to?’ asked one of the young men.
‘I am a traveller and
I am going to the Black Mountains.’
No one in the
village had ever heard of the Black Mountains. Baboo told
them of the pearls that the river brought with it; they came from the
Black Mountains. But they didn’t know what pearls were
worth. What was a stone worth if it only reflected a particular shade when put
in the sun and had no glow of its own? Wasn’t it the same as all the other
stones at night? To them the river was only a source of life. It brought them
fish and gave them water to drink. ‘The river flows pure water through this
village’ thought Baboo. He had been extremely impressed with the people of the
village and the way they had treated him. ‘How could one so much hated by his
own be so heartily welcomed by the strangers!’ he asked himself but couldn’t
find an answer.

He had remained in the
village for a whole month. With his wound cured and his energies restored he
planned to move ahead. He was told by his guests that he would come across a
deep forest on his way forward and that the forest was haunted by wild spirits.
They gave him a sword saying that he might need it some day. Baboo filled the
pouch with food and removed the stones he was carrying in it. ‘Why did you keep
the stones in there when you were always travelling by the side of the river as
you had said?’ asked one the young men. Baboo didn’t know the answer. His hosts
prayed for a safe journey as he left their hut. He knew he would have loved to
live and die here were he not looking for the Black
Mountains.

For six days Baboo had
travelled the vast plain grounds and had not seen a single tree that bore any
fruit. It occurred to him that had he not been bitten by the snake he would
never have seen that village and would have died of hunger. ‘Pain can sometimes
be a blessing in disguise and we are too simple to understand the ways of life’
he told himself. On the following day he reached what had been called the
haunted forest. At a distance he could see the river disappear in the wild
forest. He was already occupied with fear.

For four long days
Baboo had travelled through the forest. The trees were so long that the sunlight
didn’t reach the ground. For once he had been attacked by a group of hyenas and
he had climbed the tree to save his life. ‘The sword wasn’t of much use’, he
thought. Extremely horrible were the nights in the forest. Many a times he had
been awaken by the dreadful shrieks of an owl. He would spend the nights on the
trees and travel in the morning. ‘I should have arranged for something to burn
fire at nights’, he lamented his negligence; he didn’t want to be bitten by the
snake again. Week after week he travelled through the dark forest. There were no
wild spirits in the forest as he had been told. ‘We usually associate
apprehensions to the tasks we want to avoid. It is not the difficult task that
restrains us it is our fear that plays its tricks.’ For once his way blocked my
monstrous shrubs and he thought what he would have done without the sword on
that day.

The light brought with
it the sight of a mountain range on the horizon. The river was flowing as usual
and so was Baboo. ‘These must be the Black Mountains’, he
told himself as he increased his pace. ‘Reaching your destination isn’t much of
a task once you have seen it.’ He had reached the Black
Mountains.

Baboo had walked
through wilderness throughout his journey but nothing gave such a deserted look
as did the mountains. ‘There was something queer about this place,’ a sudden
shudder had run fear through his spine. He noticed that the river had narrowed
down here and it flowed faster through the mountains, ‘the journey downward’ he
told himself as he moved ahead to look for its origin. As he crossed the first
mountain his eyes caught hold of a valley, it could be called the most colourful
place on earth. But as he reached there he was gripped by deep sorrow. He felt
it hard to breathe. There were human skulls scattered all over and right there
shone the precious gems. ‘Poor beasts!’ sighed Baboo as he picked up a gem and
looked at it, ‘Only one of you was enough for a man to make his fortune but they
all travelled to end up like this.’
‘Did you travel all this way to see this?
Could you not try and find a pearl in your own village like the others did?’ the
river asked him.
‘Ah, the human race!’ he sighed as he removed the pouch from
around his neck and as he did that something fell in his feet. A pebble had
remained in his pouch since the time he thought he had emptied it. He picked it
up and looked it as he felt a sudden pain in his heart. The pebble looked so
beautiful. It reminded him of his past; his village; his home the lake_
they all seemed so beautiful to him as he looked at the skulls and the
rusted swords lying everywhere. He compared the pebble with the gems lying in
front of him and couldn’t decide which of these had more value for him. The look
of the scattered skulls made him hate the human race and he imagined himself a
hawk flying sky high but the hawks preyed so ruthlessly, a thought occurred to
him. He imagined himself as wind, but realized that it was always on the move
and it could never stop at one place, so miserable was its life. He took himself
for a candle that lighted the whole room but found that the room was the darkest
where he himself stood. He took himself for the candle’s flame and saw how he
had attracted a moth, killing him dead. Then he imagined himself as the
monstrous mountain but found that snows covered it all over in winter and killed
whatever life there was. He imagined himself as the bright sun but found out how
much a traveller in the desert had despised him for he had dried water in the
only oasis in the desert. He imagined himself a desert but found out that he
nourished too many venomous snakes. He thought himself as a moon-lit night but
only to realize how he had been a trouble to the strayed sailor of the boat for
he had created monstrous waves in the sea. He imagined himself as many things
and was never satisfied. Baboo wept as he realized how life had made a fool of
him. He had been created the best that he could be, and he realized how he could
have easily avoided all that he had been through. ‘My people wanted to kill me
but I could always stop to clarify my position and I could also win the love of
my parents, they were never my enemies’, he kept on weeping for a long time as
he seemed to have understood the ways of the world. ‘I shall make my own
destiny’, he was resolute. He picked his pouch and filled it with as much gems
as he could carry. He was heading back home.

Many days and nights
had passed. Behind him the sun was rising as its rays fell on Chaudhry sahab’s
villa. As he reached the lake he saw an old man rushing toward him from the
other side of the river who came and fell in his feet weeping.
‘Rise, old
man! Why should you weep?’
‘Forgive me son for what I did to you. You may not
recognize me but I could never forget your innocent face all these years’, said
the old man as tears rolled down his wrinkled face. Baboo had now recognized
Chaudhry sahab. ‘Two days after you left the village, the sun of God’s blessings
set on me. I found out that my wife’s necklace was stolen by our own son. When I
scolded him he took control of everything and had us all thrown out of the
house. He sold the villa and moved to the city.’

Baboo took Chaudhry sahab to the
villa. Begum sahiba had passed away a long time ago and now Chaudhry sahab lived
with his daughter in the shed that was once the dwelling of the animals. ‘Do not
worry Chaudhry sahab, I am your son’, said Baboo as he looked in Chaudhry
sahab’s eyes.

The door was open.
Baboo still remembered the last time he had entered it. There on the cot he saw
his father. Life had spilled out of his eyes and they could not see the light
any more. Right then his mother came out in the courtyard and saw what her eyes
had longed to see for years. She could hardly say a thing.
‘No one could ever
understand you son, even us_ your parents. It is such a pity we ruined your
life. I always questioned God why He had kept me alive but today I am happy to
get the answer. But we can never forgive ourselves for what you’ve been through
for the fault of ours.’ His father said sobbing.
Baboo sat in the knees of
his father and told him that everything was always his own fault, that every
person is himself responsible for what happens to him. ‘Sometimes we have to let
go what has happened and look at what lies ahead of us.’

Things had changed a
lot since his return. Baboo made the best use of the treasure of the
Black Mountains. He bought back Chaudhry sahab’s villa
and restored its possession to him. Fazloo, the land owner from whose garden he
stole apples had died; Baboo gave his son a pearl telling him that he had picked
too many apples from his garden and that he felt sorry for having been too late
to beg pardon. He had planned the construction of a new school where Master jee
would be the Head Master. Master jee was strict but he taught well, he thought,
‘I could tell him to be lenient to kids as punishment would do them no
good’.

It was another evening in the
village and Baboo was sitting by the lake once again but with all the
contentment there could ever be in his heart. He had a pebble in his hand that
he threw in water; it made waves on its surface. The waves drifted apart from
the centre but he knew that the waves didn’t vanish, they were always there and
he could create them whenever he wanted to. So much fascinated was he with the
sound ‘Plutt.’