The Little Rainmaker Page 5

  The sounds of the video game made Anoushqa snap out of her reverie. She watched as Maurice expertly dodged a big rock to move ahead in what looked like outer space.

  Anoushqa stared silently as she didn’t want to disturb Maurice, whose spaceship looked like it was about to launch a thousand rockets in one go. Suddenly something went kaput. With a fizzing sound, the screen went blank. Mayuri threw the console down in anger and frustration. ‘No way! No freaking way! Just when I was so close to winning!’ she exclaimed.

  Anoushqa spoke gingerly from behind, ‘Er … can I help?’

  Mayuri turned around. She smiled when she saw who it was. ‘Hey, you … Don’t you have class?’ she asked. It was just like Maurice to forget that it was recess!

  ‘It’s already lunchtime,’ Anoushqa told her. ‘I came here to see you. What are you doing?’

  ‘Well, you know those guys at Tec Whiz? They have hired me to do this. When they come up with a new game, they ask me to give it a trial run to see if there are any glitches in the program or if I can give them any suggestions towards improving it … stuff like that,’ replied Maurice.

  Anoushqa was very impressed. ‘Wow! You aren’t even out of school and you already have a job?’ she asked admiringly.

  Mayuri shrugged off the admiration like it was an everyday affair. ‘This is not a job. But, yes, I do get paid for it. My job, whenever I start working, will be much better than this … I want to create something for this world … for its people … to help everyone … I don’t know … something big,’ she said. Anoushqa could see the familiar twinkle in her eyes as she spoke, and she just knew that one day Maurice would do something really big.

  ‘I want to make it rain,’ Anoushqa blurted out suddenly and sat down with a sigh. ‘It’s Grampa …’ she went on.

  ‘What happened? Is he all right?’ asked Maurice. She had sensed the fear in Anoushqa’s voice, and was concerned.

  By the time Anoushqa was done telling Maurice about Grampa and Gargi and the rain and the permissions from the government, Maurice’s head was spinning. ‘One second, Anu. I just have one question. What makes you think this Gargi scientist is not using you to get her permissions?’ she asked.

  Surprised at the question, Anoushqa asked, ‘What does that mean?’

  Maurice sighed at her innocence and said, ‘Maybe she’ll use this social media page for her own selfish objectives. This technology has the potential to make her famous, you know.’

  ‘But permissions would mean that she can make rain, right?’ countered Anoushqa.

  ‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ admitted Maurice.

  ‘Then what difference does it make? I just want rain for Grampa. I don’t care how it comes. I’m not doing this to be famous. I just want it to rain,’ said Anoushqa.

  Maurice was touched. She smiled at Anoushqa. ‘You got it right, kiddo. Don’t worry. Tomorrow morning, we’ll launch a social media page for Grampa. Let’s make it rain,’ she said.

  In the morning, Anoushqa got dressed for school and on her way down, entered Grampa’s room. Grampa was sleeping and, for the first time, Anoushqa looked closely around the room.

  There was a fourposter bed in the centre. Grampa lay on it, covered partly by an olive-green bed sheet. A crisp white bed sheet was spread underneath him. It was a very old bed. It had belonged to Grampa’s grandfather, and he had refused to part with it. Ma and Dad had been angry and upset about this refusal, but Grampa had held his ground. Anoushqa wondered why he had been so adamant. Maybe the bed reminded him of his grandfather. Maybe the mattress that he had held on to for so long carried a foam padding of memories. He always said, ‘You can throw it away when I die.’ But Anoushqa wasn’t sure if she would let Ma and Dad throw it away. What about her memories of Grampa?

  Right opposite the bed was a cupboard that held Grampa’s clothes, medicines and a spare pair of glasses, in case the ones he was wearing broke.

  But Anoushqa’s most favourite possessions of Grampa’s were kept in the drawer below the money drawer. This particular drawer was ‘cleaned’ by Grampa every now and then, and it happened to hold a treasure trove of things. Like old glass marbles that seemed to carry stories of another world within their tiny bodies. A large blue one with red-and-green stripes running inside it stood out among the lot. Anoushqa always thought that the underwater world Grampa spoke of would look like this. She loved to hit one marble with another and hear the sharp crack it made.

  Then there were white beads from a lost necklace that belonged, she surmised, to Grandma. Strings of colourful beaded necklaces that had lost their hooks but still looked beautiful. Anoushqa loved to play dress-up with those beads and admire herself in the mirror. Then there was a small silver glass and spoon that still shone brightly. ‘It may have belonged to some queen,’ Grampa had told her in serious, hushed tones, making it all the more exciting for Anoushqa to play with them.

  There was also a collection of matchboxes put together over the years, an old carved torch that didn’t work any more, a pack of cards that had the most intricately designed cover of a battle in action and an old pair of sunglasses—wide, big and inky black. Yes, that drawer was a treasure trove of stories. Each time it was opened, it took Anoushqa to a magical fairyland where she could stay for hours, emerging only when she was hungry or when Ma was angry at her disappearance.

  Apart from the bed and the cupboard, the room was sparse. A small pile of books written by famous Indian authors sat next to Grampa’s bed on one side, and on the other was a side table with a glass and a jug of H20. A window that was always shut watched Grampa from the wall, even as the slightly parted curtains let the harsh sun peek inside. Grampa’s blue plastic slippers were lined neatly next to each other, almost as if waiting for him to step into them. To Anoushqa, the slippers appeared lonely.

  Just then, she heard Grampa’s soft, sleepy voice. ‘I will get into those soon and walk with you, my dear.’

  Anoushqa smiled at Grampa and said, ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’

  Grampa laughed. ‘Caught you, haven’t I?’ he said. ‘I know what my little butterfly is thinking even when she is flying at 100 kmph.’

  Anoushqa went and hugged him tightly, and he coughed. She moved away in alarm. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  ‘Can the flapping of a butterfly’s wings ever hurt anyone?’ he countered. This was Grampa’s pattern. A question was always followed by a question until he ended up telling a story—his favourite thing. Anoushqa’s favourite thing.

  ‘Why do you keep calling me your butterfly?’ she asked him.

  ‘Don’t you like it?’ he asked in return.

  ‘Well, a butterfly is pretty, but I am not sure if it’s important enough. I want to be important. You know, like a lion … the king of the jungle. Or if it has to be a bird, then maybe the vulture. It’s big and powerful,’ replied Anoushqa.

  Grampa laughed and said, ‘Big is not always better, my dear. Look at the dinosaurs. They were too big to last.’

  Anoushqa shrugged and said with total conviction, ‘Not that big … the other kind of big … the grown-up kind. Like when you earn your own money, buy your own things, don’t have to obey your parents or eat veggies, you can go out with friends when you want, use your own phone … and so much other stuff. It’s fun to be that kind of big.’

  But Grampa didn’t agree. ‘Really? Then why are we born small? Why are there ants and cockroaches and sparrows and …’

  ‘Sparrows? What are those?’ asked Anoushqa curiously.

  Grampa sighed. ‘Well, they used to be a family of small birds. But nobody cared for them, so now we don’t have sparrows.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Anoushqa.

  Grampa signalled to her to come and sit next to him on the bed. Anoushqa immediately complied, snuggling up to him. ‘We are all part of an ecosystem, one that needs to be balanced. Small needs big, and big needs small. Fat needs thin. Tall needs short,’ Grampa started.

  Anoushqa interrupted him t
o say, ‘And day needs night?’

  ‘That’s right,’ replied Grampa. ‘And if we don’t look after our butterflies, we’ll lose them, and do you know what will happen then? We might as well lose ourselves too.’

  ‘How?’ asked Anoushqa, confused.

  ‘You see, butterflies are the mark of a healthy ecosystem. As long as you keep seeing them, you can safely assume that your environment is healthy.’

  ‘But we don’t see very many butterflies these days,’ said Anoushqa. Grampa nodded gravely. Anoushqa asked again, ‘But how do butterflies affect our egosystem?’

  ‘Ecosystem,’ corrected Grampa. ‘When a butterfly flaps its wings, it can set off a hurricane in another part of the world—this is called the butterfly effect.’

  ‘Really? Is that true?’ Anoushqa asked, wide-eyed.

  Grampa shrugged and said, ‘That’s what they say—the scientists. One tiny flap of a butterfly’s wings can help us control the outcome of dangerous weather conditions, especially if we observe it in time.’

  ‘Wow! I bet Maurice doesn’t know this. I will tell her today,’ said Anoushqa importantly.

  Just then, Ma called out, ‘Anoushqa, come fast! Let me braid your hair. We’ll be late for school otherwise.’

  Grampa nudged her to go, and Anoushqa kissed him goodbye. As she was jumping off the bed, Grampa asked, ‘So do you like the butterfly now?’

  Anoushqa shrugged, saying, ‘Maybe. It seems important enough. See you later, Gramps.’

  As soon as Anoushqa entered the classroom, all her classmates stared at her. The last time this had happened was a year ago, when her handkerchief had accidentally got caught in a button on her frock and she’d looked like she had put on a bib to wipe her nose with. Ratul had mercilessly teased her as the Kindergarten Girl all day long. But before she could react today, Aadi showed her the phone in his hand. It was a page with a picture of Anoushqa hugging her Grampa.

  Anoushqa almost jumped out of her skin in surprise. ‘Oh my God!’ she squealed.

  Aadi passed the phone to her, and she took a closer look. What she saw made her smile: it was the social media page that she had asked Maurice to create. ‘Oh my God! She has already done it! How I love Maurice! She is my best friend!’ Anoushqa deliberately said the last thing out loud so Samaira would hear it. Sam instantly felt a pang of jealousy.

  Hafsah rushed to Anoushqa, exclaiming, ‘There are 500 likes for the page! Wow!’

  Aadi sounded concerned. ‘I didn’t know Grampa was that sick,’ he said.

  Vaani remarked, ‘Is this Maurice’s handiwork? What does it say?’

  Anoushqa read what was written. The page was titled ‘Grampa’s Dream’, followed by ‘Make it rain for the Grampa who rains stories.’ Below that were the complete details of the rainmaking technology, along with Gargi’s picture on the side. There was also a petition urging people to sign it, so they could get permission for this technology from the prime minister of India.

  Vaani patted Anoushqa proudly and said, ‘This is so cool! How did you meet this scientist?’

  Anoushqa shrugged. ‘Found her on the Internet,’ she said.

  Everyone seemed impressed. Everyone except Ratul, who had realized just then that Anoushqa was serious about making rain. He remarked, ‘Likes on a page don’t really translate into actual rain.’

  Anoushqa was hurt. She said sarcastically, ‘Thanks for the encouragement, Ratul. I need all of it and more.’

  The class giggled at this, and Aadi remarked, ‘Don’t worry, Anoushqa. I will keep you posted on the progress of this page even between classes.’

  Anoushqa gave him a thumbs up and looked at Sam, who was upset that she was no longer her best friend. But Anoushqa wasn’t one to let things go so easily. ‘What happened, Sam? Not happy?’ she asked disdainfully.

  Sam lashed out angrily at this. ‘How are you so sure that the prime minister will agree to your demand? Huh? What if he says no? Then what are you going to do?’

  ‘Of course he will agree,’ retorted Anoushqa, equally angrily.

  ‘But what if he doesn’t? What will you do then? How will you make rain, Anoushqa, without the prime minister and without this scientist lady?’ persisted Sam, noting with satisfaction the shadow of doubt that crossed Anoushqa’s face in response to her questions. She decided then that she had hurt her enough for that mean ‘best friend’ remark and returned to her seat.

  Just then, the social science teacher tiptoed in on her high heels and beamed at them all. ‘Good morning, class! What a beautiful day it is! Please sit down and take out your books,’ she said cheerfully.

  All the students grudgingly took out their books. Just then, Aadi threw a note at Anoushqa. It said ‘We have 523 likes already! You are awesome!’

  Anoushqa smiled at Aadi but her heart skipped a beat. She looked at Sam poring over her books and realized that however hurtful her remark had been, Sam was right.

  If the social media page didn’t work, Anoushqa didn’t have a backup plan.

  Chapter 8

  Anoushqa thought of all the times she had needed backup.

  If only she had taken a little extra lava material as backup to school that day, she would have gotten an A. If they didn’t have electricity backup at home, they would be forced to endure frequent bouts of darkness due to the incessant power cuts in the summer. If she had not given Sam the extra compass she was carrying for the geometry test, Sam would have failed it. It helped to have backup. Always. It saved you from bad grades, from living in darkness and from failing on tests. Sam was right. ‘There must be another way to make rain,’ Anoushqa thought to herself.

  That night, Anoushqa tossed and turned in her sleep. She dreamt of fairies that blessed the city with rain … of fish that drank so much water that they bloated up like balloons and just one prick of a needle made them rain. She saw Grampa dancing in the rain. Suddenly, he turned into the prime minister and sat on a gold throne with a crown on his head, smiling at Anoushqa. She woke up with a start, unsure of what she had seen in her dream. All she knew was that she had to find another way to make rain.

  This one time Grampa had gone looking for his glasses everywhere … under the table, behind the sofa, inside the cupboard and even the kitchen drawers. He had finally given up and sat down with his head in his hands. Lo and behold, he found his glasses perched on his head, as if secretly laughing at him.

  It happens to all of us sometimes. When we are looking too hard for something, we fail to see it even when it is right in front of our eyes.

  And that’s the reason Anoushqa missed the ad on the front page of the newspaper that day, as she sat eating her buttered toast. Crumbs of toasted bread fell on the headline of an ad:

  MAGIC MISTRY RAINWALLA

  No. 1 in Magic Solutions and Potions

  She quickly picked up the crumbs and dusted the newspaper but failed to read the magic-man’s ad:

  Speshalist in Rainmaking

  Anoushqa finished her glass of milk and left for school. The newspaper remained on the table as the front-page ad screamed:

  100% Garentee

  Contact 91-9283456787

  We have no other branches. Just this one!

  WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS,

  MAGIC PREVAILS!

  At school, after the English and maths periods were over, Hafsah came running up to Anoushqa. ‘Did you see this?’ she panted.

  Anoushqa took the paper cut out Hafsah held in her hand. It was the same ad. ‘MAGIC MISTRY RAINWALLA.’

  ‘Wow! How did I miss this?’ she said in surprise. Both pored over the ad.

  ‘Do you think it’ll help you?’ asked Hafsah.

  ‘Maybe. I’m not sure. But there’s no harm in calling,’ replied Anoushqa.

  Just then, their social science teacher entered the class. ‘Good morning. Today we’ll study about the Parliament,’ she announced.

  Anoushqa quickly whispered a ‘Thank you so much!’ to Hafsah. As she took her seat, she realized that spending so
much time with Sam had been to her disadvantage. ‘I could have been best friends with Hafsah. She is a tad irritating at times but so is Sam. So am I. I wish I were best friends with Hafsah instead of Sam,’ she thought.

  While Anoushqa was thinking all this and sharpening her pencil to take notes in class, Hafsah looked at Sam sitting across the room and gave her a thumbs up. Sam smiled. ‘I hope that ad helps Anoushqa find a backup. Grampa must see rain,’ she thought.

  You see, Sam had been feeling guilty about her behaviour with Anoushqa the day before. When she saw the ad in the newspaper that morning, she realized there was a way she could make up for her mistake. But she knew Anoushqa. ‘That stubborn girl will never take anything from me. I will have to ask someone else to bring this ad to her notice,’ she thought. And that’s where Hafsah came in. But Anoushqa didn’t know all this. All she knew was that Hafsah had given her the backup plan that she was looking for.

  And Anoushqa would go to this magical place after school.

  The ‘magical’ place turned out to be the scariest place Anoushqa had ever visited. The long dark corridor was lit by just one flickering white light bulb. Moreover, the place was deathly silent. Anoushqa took a deep breath and wondered if she had made a mistake coming here alone. ‘I should have told someone I was coming here. Maybe Hafsah … or even Ratul. That way, if I disappear forever, the police would at least know that this was the last place I visited.’

  These morbid thoughts stemmed from all the crime shows Anoushqa had been watching on TV every day, even though Ma had strictly forbidden it. But that was exactly what had made it so exciting: the forbidden fruit is always sweeter! She would watch them while Grampa snoozed in the afternoon.

  Inside the corridor, she gulped in fear. ‘What if this magician guy turns out to be one of those creeps who does mean things to children?’ she wondered. She had seen enough of those episodes to know such men existed. And the crime show presenter would always end with a warning: ‘They are lurking around you, at every corner. Watch where you go. Until next time …’