The Little Rainmaker Page 9

  This made sense to Anoushqa, and she asked, ‘Do you think scientists have already proven this?’

  ‘Maybe, but not completely. I’m sure we need more proof,’ said Grampa.

  But in her heart Anoushqa knew SHE was the proof. She didn’t need any more evidence. She knew she missed rain, and while the adult, science-based world would have demanded she back up this claim with proof, she herself didn’t need any. She just knew. She also knew that she just had to see rain again. Both for Grampa’s sake and her own.

  This was the reason Anoushqa had agreed to accept Ratul’s father’s invitation to dinner that night, to discuss his suggestion to make rain right there in his HumiDome Mall—the one that had all the environmentalists up in arms.

  When Ratul’s father had suggested that he invite Anoushqa, Ratul had been angry. ‘No way, Papa! I will not have Anoushqa over for dinner… I don’t like her,’ he had protested.

  His father had smiled and petted him like a dog. ‘Don’t you want to show off this mall to your friends?’ he had asked. Ratul had looked at him blankly, wondering if it was a question or a threat. His father had continued. ‘Invite this girl to dinner. She is important for us. And if you don’t like her, then make an effort to like her.’

  Ratul was a bit scared of his father because he could never really tell whether he was in a good mood or he had a foul temper. Right now, he decided it was best to listen to his father. And so he had gone up to Anoushqa in class the next day and said, ‘I’m proud of your efforts, Anoushqa, and I want to help you.’ Anoushqa had been surprised. Ratul seemed to be reciting a speech that had been dictated to him by someone else.

  At dinner that evening at Ratul’s home, Anoushqa realized who had dictated the speech to Ratul. ‘We want to help you by building a memorial for your grandfather,’ announced Mr Bhalla—Ratul’s father—as he dug into his favourite dish, butter chicken.

  Between mouthfuls of butter naan, Ratul had added, ‘Remember that science experiment in class, Anoushqa? The one in which T-Rex made rain in a jar? We can do that at the mall.’

  Buuuurrppp! The belligerent Mr Bhalla burped in agreement. ‘We’ll install a huge jar for the experiment, touching the highest point of the mall, right at the entrance,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ Anoushqa asked, surprised. ‘But that big a jar would mean lots of ice and water.’

  ‘Leave it all to me,’ assured Mr Bhalla. ‘I have lots of money. You are like my daughter, and your grandfather is like my grandfather.’

  Anoushqa instantly imagined Mr Bhalla cuddled in bed with her Grampa, listening to his stories, and shook her head to get the disturbing image out of her mind.

  ‘Whatever the cost, I’ll arrange it. That water will be recycled every day. The raindrops will fall all the time for everyone to see. We’ll call it…’ Mr Bhalla took a dramatic pause, then, tracing the words in the air with his fingers, he announced ‘… the Grandfather Memorial.’ He smiled, his gold tooth glinting irritatingly.

  ‘Even when your grandfather is no more, the memorial in his name will live on… We will immortalize him,’ he continued. He said this with a wave of his hand, which Anoushqa found very disconcerting. It was almost as if he were saying, ‘We will finish him.’

  Ratul asked her from across the table, ‘So, do you like the idea?’

  Anoushqa nodded because, frankly, she had no other option.

  Mr Bhalla gave her a thumbs up. ‘Good. We will unveil the memorial on the mall’s inauguration day. I’ve already ordered everything needed for the experiment.’

  Anoushqa looked surprised. ‘But how did you know I would agree to your proposal?’ she asked.

  Mr Bhalla used a toothpick to clean the last remnants of chicken from his tooth and smiled. ‘No one says no to Bhalla,’ he said smugly.

  Anoushqa cringed as she watched him excavating his mouth with the toothpick, finally getting what he was looking for and examining it like it was treasure. He noticed her staring and said, ‘Why don’t you eat your butter chicken? You haven’t eaten anything.’

  ‘Er… actually, since my dog, Pixie, died last year, I’ve stopped eating non-vegetarian food,’ Anoushqa replied.

  To her surprise, Mr Bhalla laughed. ‘Dog died? So what? This is not dog… this is chicken… the one that flies! It will be hurt if you don’t eat it,’ he said crassly, pushing the plate towards Anoushqa.

  She pushed it back, saying firmly, ‘No, thank you. It’s okay. I can just eat rice.’

  Mr Bhalla looked at Ratul as if to say, ‘You sure have strange friends.’

  Ratul shrugged as he dug into a chicken leg without a care in the world.

  Mr Bhalla gave up on his vegetarian guest and announced, ‘Fine, then. Now we will show the environmentalists what we can do with our HD Mall. Bloody losers!’

  Anoushqa returned home hungry from the dinner, and wondered if it would actually please Grampa to see the artificial rain they were planning to make in a jar. She sighed and resigned herself to her fate. ‘It was the backup of a backup. There’s no harm in backing up,’ she rationalized.

  Back at Ratul’s home, Mr Bhalla took out the prototype of the ad that he would be posting in the newspapers the next morning. It read ‘HumiDome Mall Helps Make Rain for Grampa’, followed by ‘Ten-year-old girl makes rain for her grandfather in the first-ever environment-loving Grandfather Memorial’. Details about how the Good Samaritan Mr Bhalla had agreed to the little girl’s request and how he had always been a ‘man of the environment’ followed. At night, while the rest of the world and Anoushqa slept, Mr Bhalla posted the ad in all the leading dailies—and even on Anoushqa’s social media page.

  Dad was furious the next morning as he carried Grampa to the washroom to dry-vacuum him. ‘You shouldn’t have let him use your name like that. How dare he? I will go talk to him today,’ he thundered.

  The idea of her averagely built Dad arguing with Mr Bhalla, who was easily double his size, made Anoushqa very nervous. ‘Don’t do that, Dad. I don’t think you will be… you will be… I mean…’ She didn’t know how to put the point across delicately.

  But Dad answered stubbornly, ‘I will show him what it means to manipulate my daughter into doing something she doesn’t want to. I mean, everyone seems to be cashing in on her dream… This stupid social media page should be removed! You should not have created it in the first place, Anoushqa. You should have asked us to do it.’

  ‘Leave her alone,’ said Grampa, trying to defuse the situation.

  Dad was very upset. ‘You don’t get into this, Papa. I will handle it. There is some magician claiming he will make it rain as well. What the hell is this nonsense? If my daughter doesn’t want something, no one in this world can force her to do it!’

  Anoushqa interrupted him, ‘But I want it, Dad.’

  Dad suddenly fell silent, and Grampa, too, looked surprised. Ma peeked in to see what had caused such a deathly silence. Anoushqa was breathing very hard. She felt nervous telling Dad the truth.

  ‘I want the Grampa Memorial because, frankly, I don’t know whether it will actually rain or not,’ she said, her voice breaking with unshed tears. ‘You said I should have asked before creating the social media page. Did you people ask any of us ten-year-olds when you were busy wrecking the environment so it would not rain for ten years? No, you did not!’ she finished.

  Dad looked shocked.

  ‘I’ve tried everything I could, Dad. The social media page was to get the attention of the prime minister, but he failed me. The scientists can’t do anything. That magician who claims he can make it rain… who knows? There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, in this world that one can be sure about. And I hate it. Where did this rain go? Why didn’t you fight with people when they were doing things that stopped the rain from falling?’

  Ma looked at Dad, realizing that Anoushqa was serious about this. Grampa looked concerned.

  ‘You should have fought then, Dad. Not now. Because now it’s too late. It may never rain again�
�� ever. And Grampa might not see rain again… ever…’ Finally, the tears that had been threatening to fall burst through. Anoushqa tried hard to stop them, but to no avail. There was silence in the room for a while as the three adults looked at each other and at the little puddle of tears that had formed at Anoushqa’s feet.

  Grampa was the first to react. ‘Rain or no rain, I think we are all going to drown,’ he said, attempting a feeble joke. Anoushqa looked down at the puddle of tears Grampa was pointing at, and sniffed hard to stop the tears from falling. She went and hugged Grampa tight.

  Dad sighed and patted her head. ‘I’m sorry, princess. My mistake. You are right. I should have fought ten years ago. You go do what you need to do. I’m with you,’ he promised. Ma hugged her too, and, finally, they all agreed that they would attend the inauguration of HD Mall the day after to see the unveiling of the Grampa Memorial.

  Chapter 14

  16 September 2028. The day before the promised rain would fall. Or not.

  That morning, too, Anoushqa performed her usual morning ritual. She brushed her teeth with her electric toothbrush and spat into the air-controlled basin, which immediately vacuumed the contents of her mouth away.

  After dry-cleaning herself, Anoushqa applied Sun Saver 500 all over her body. ‘Do not leave even an inch. Do you understand? Unless you want your skin to burn,’ her mother had reminded her repeatedly until she’d learnt to do it on her own. She then put on her full-sleeved cotton dress and leggings, the softest ones that touched her skin without giving her a rash. After this, she wore a heat-resistant body protector. Hers was yellow—there were other colours available in the market, but she had picked two yellow ones since it was her favourite colour.

  She then picked up one of many face masks that lay on her dressing shelf. They looked so strange! Rows of face masks with holes for eyes, the nose and mouth, just gaping at the cupboard walls, waiting to be picked up and given life. They were all the same colour—pale brown. Like ghosts. Or at least that’s what Ma had said when they had first appeared in the market. To Anoushqa, they were a part of her life, her daily ritual, her dressing-up routine, her going-outto-play routine, her every day.

  Once she had her mask on, she picked up her very thick sunglasses and headscarf, which was a must to prevent any stray hairs from getting singed in the sun. ‘Isn’t it amazing how people the world over look the same?’ Hafsah had asked Ms Noronha in class once, when she had shown them pictures of people from different countries. White, black, brown, yellow… all the people were covered in the same uniform from head to toe. They all looked exactly the same.

  When Anoushqa had told this to Grampa that day, he had remarked, ‘Nature is the biggest equalizer, I guess.’

  ‘What is an equalizer?’ Anoushqa had asked.

  ‘Something that makes us all the same,’ Grampa had replied.

  ‘But we are the same. I mean, we are all human beings, right?’ Anoushqa had countered.

  Grampa had smiled and answered, ‘We used to be, once upon a time. But we forgot this fact over the ages. Now nature has come back in full force to remind us.’

  Anoushqa looked at herself in the mirror now. Satisfied with her appearance, she dashed downstairs. She wanted to say hello to Grampa before leaving for school.

  Grampa saw her and smiled. ‘All set to fly?’

  She nodded and went over to kiss Grampa on both cheeks. ‘I’ll see you after school, Grampa,’ she said.

  Grampa coughed loudly, and Anoushqa rushed to hand him his glass of water. He looked weaker than usual. Every passing day was taking a toll on his body, and Anoushqa wondered how long it would be until… She could not bear to even finish the thought, and so she hurriedly left for school.

  At school, she found that her class was in the limelight for the identical haircuts most of the girls had got. The teachers had appreciated them for standing in solidarity with Anoushqa. Some students had laughed at them while others had patted their backs. A local newspaper had even covered the news on the fourth page. The headline read ‘HAIRCUT FOR A CAUSE’. None of the girls had actually revealed that the money they had raised was for a magician. They giggled about it in secrecy.

  Anoushqa had cut out the newspaper article and put it up on the wall, right next to the picture of Sam and her. In a strange way, the loss of her hair had brought a gain in its wake—of friendship, of banding together and of a memory that would last a lifetime. And that’s why everyone at school was silently backing Anoushqa. They knew that the next day would reveal whether their joint efforts had paid off. Her classmates were all eager to know whether the magician would actually make it rain tomorrow. After all, it would be a victory for all of them.

  Maurice’s eyes bore an expression of care and love. She didn’t say much except ‘You go, kiddo. I’m sure all will be good.’

  Ratul came up to Anoushqa and said, ‘See you at 11 a.m. tomorrow for the unveiling of the memorial. Be there on time.’ Anoushqa hated being ordered about, but she had no option in this instance. Ratul had announced the inauguration of the mall and the unveiling of the Grampa Memorial to the rest of the class, and they all agreed to be there.

  Sam whispered to Anoushqa, ‘Why is Ratul doing this?’

  Anoushqa shrugged. ‘As long as I get to see rain, I don’t really care,’ she said.

  The teachers all wished her luck. T-Rex said, ‘I’ve been following the social media page. Good job. We will all pray for your grandfather, and for rain as well.’ Anoushqa found it odd that T-Rex, the science teacher, also prayed to God. ‘I always thought she believed in science alone,’ she thought.

  Ms Noronha, the English teacher, walked in uttering her stock phrases. ‘Keep your mouths shut. Speak only when it is absolutely necessary. Breathe through your nose so you conserve moisture in your mouths. And use less H2O. That will be good for society. Always think of the society. Think beyond the individual. Beyond yourself. Just like Anoushqa.’ Everyone turned to Anoushqa in surprise at this additional tip. Anoushqa herself was startled at the mention of her name. Ms Noronha smiled at her kindly, saying, ‘May it really rain tomorrow. I hope and pray for both you and your grandfather that it does.’

  Since she didn’t know how to thank her, Anoushqa simply smiled. She felt a deep calm within, knowing that everyone’s prayers were with her that day. It felt good to know that they were all rooting for her. Just like in a race, when all your friends cheer for you and call out your name: ‘Anoushqa! Anoushqa!’ But just before you reach the finishing line, all the voices get drowned out and all you can hear is your heartbeat as you race to the end. That’s how she felt right now. A silence among all the chatter. The only thing that she could think of was the finishing line… the next day, when it was supposed to rain.

  At the end of the day, she met Sam alone in the rec room. And she saw doubt in her friend’s eyes—a doubt that may well have been a reflection of her own.

  Sam asked her, ‘What do you think will happen tomorrow?’

  ‘Frankly, I don’t know. All I know is that I have done all that I possibly could,’ replied Anoushqa.

  Sam nodded in agreement. The girls hugged each other for a full five minutes. Then Anoushqa left for home.

  But when she reached home, it was empty. Ma and Dad had to have left for work a long time ago, so their absence wasn’t unusual. But even Grampa was not in his room. Anoushqa’s heart started beating very fast. She instinctively knew that something was terribly wrong.

  Chapter 15

  For all the claims that technology has brought people closer, it is in times of emergency that we realize it has, in fact, utterly failed to do so. Sometimes your phone battery runs out. At other times, the network is unreachable. In Anoushqa’s case, while her parents’ phones were ringing, there was no answer. She was worried. Something had happened to Grampa, and she didn’t know what it was.

  The longest two hours of her life later, Anoushqa heard the door click open. She rushed to see Ma and Dad carrying Grampa inside.
She burst out into a volley of questions.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘What’s happened to Grampa?’

  ‘Why weren’t you answering your phones?’

  Ma and Dad tucked Grampa into his bed. He seemed dazed. They switched off the lights and came out, even as Anoushqa hovered around them. Ma made her sit on the sofa. ‘We left a note… it’s still there on the refrigerator,’ she said.

  Anoushqa looked up and, indeed, there it was. She didn’t know how she had missed it. It said ‘Be back soon. Taking Grampa to hospital. Don’t worry. Lunch in microwave.’

  Taking out some cash from his cupboard, Dad explained, ‘It was quite sudden. I was about to leave for the office when, all at once, he had a very bad coughing attack. It was so bad that he lost his balance, slipped and fell and became unconscious.’

  Ma added, ‘I’d come to say bye when I saw him on the floor.’

  ‘The doctor said he’s really weak now. He should not get out of bed at all.’ Dad sighed. It suddenly hit Anoushqa that all this while she had been concentrating on whether it would rain or not, but the possibility of Grampa not living long enough to see that rain hadn’t even crossed her mind!

  That night, in her dream, Anoushqa fell. Deep, deep down a dark pit in the middle of nowhere, until she hit a pool of water and… splash! She was drenched, and she woke up with a start. She was sweating. Beads of moisture covered her upper lip and brow, and she wiped them off with her hand. She looked at the clock.

  It was 12.15 a.m. It was already 17 September 2028—the day of the grand inauguration of the Grandfather Memorial. There would be lots of people present for the occasion, including Grampa. But what if he didn’t like what he saw? What if the experience wasn’t even close to the rain he had felt years ago? There was the magician as backup. But what if he failed? If the day didn’t go according to plan, she had nothing. Not even another backup. She heard Grampa cough in his room, and she got out of bed to check on him.