the summer of 2007

Summers are dreadful now, but a couple of decades ago, the heat didn't feel even a fraction of the discomfort I feel today.

I still think about what made me say no that day.

Back then, in my growing years, it didn’t feel this uncomfortable. I often wonder these days if the heat has reached an unbearable state, or my tolerance has. Anyways, that's a discussion for another day.

Back then, in my primary school days, we walked 2 kilometres either way to reach school. During the summer, we used to get to school early, around 6 in the morning, and we could return by 11. Plenty of time left in the day to go out and play. The extra charm of the season came from the scores of mango trees on the way to school. Mornings were quite a rush to reach school on time; being late meant getting beaten with sticks.

Funny thing about getting beaten with sticks is that it's more tolerable during the summer than in the winter, for reasons best known to people who have experienced it.

So, reaching school was simple and a clear route. Pack your bag and tiffin, head to my friend's home (Sudip and Rinku) on the way, pick them up, and reach school.

But getting back from school is what made it interesting. There was another adventurous and secretive way that passed through fruit gardens and a little stream, and the exit was very close to home, near the railway station.

We were all crazy for mangoes and jamun, so often we would take the adventurous route, fill our bags with unripe mangoes and jamun we plucked from trees while enjoying some, and reach home safely.

Like yesterday, on 23rd May, 2007, the last day before the summer vacation, we planned to go back home through our secret, mango-filled way. Since it was the last day before the school break, and when we’d come back there wouldn’t be any raw mangoes left on the trees to hurl our perfectly aimed stones at, we were thrilled to gather as many as we could one last time for the season.

When school ended, we met to go home. I told them I wouldn’t take the secretive way. I would go the other way and wait on the opposite side of the station, since it was my sister's birthday and I wanted to buy her some chocolate from the shop on the main road. Since buying would take time, and their way was shorter, we would reach the home side of the railway station around the same time. If either of us reached earlier, we would wait on the platform bench.

And we started on our way back home. I went to the general shop with my budget of 35 rupees, bought a five-star, a munch, a fruti pack, mehendi, and two eclairs as a birthday gift. I was pretty hopeful that I would get my fair share of the treats.

I asked for my things to be gift-wrapped in a small carton box and continued on my way back home. I reached the station and sat on a bench, waiting for my friends.

30 minutes passed, then 45, and then 1 hour, but still no sign of them. I thought they might have played a prank on me and gone home earlier without waiting. So I took a short walk home, excited for the food my mom would make that evening.

Around 5 in the evening, both Sudip's and Rinku's fathers came to my father's shop. I was called in to check if they were with me or if I knew where they were.

I told them about our plan.

The police were informed after the entire village had searched for them on both sides of the railway station for another 3 hours.

After hours of searching, the police discovered the mutilated bodies of two boys in school uniforms on the tracks, just 800 meters away.

The next day, I saw their bodies lying on the ground covered with white cloth, with their families crying inconsolably. I couldn't gather the courage to go and tell them sorry.

I still wonder what made me say no to them on that particular day. I still went crazy for raw mangoes and jamun. Yes, it was for a birthday gift, but I had planned to buy it in the evening.

What made me change my mind?

What if I had gone with them that day?