Crossing The Torrent

Wisps of vapour rose from the meadows in the
warmth of the morning sun. We picked our way
along the pebble-strewn banks of the stream. There
were six of us. Big and burly, Peacemaker led the
way. Behind him, in a noisy group, were Bala,
Milan, Biman and Leonard with his guitar.
I brought up the rear of the expedition. I was the
youngest member, and it somehow seemed the
right place to be in.
The others proclaimed their maturity by their
knowledge of lyrics, swear words and ribald
stories; by the depth of their voices, height of their
boots and narrowness of their drain-pipe trousers.
I wore a pair of hand-me-down shorts and my
wornout shoes were cracked in places. I laughed
as loudly as any of them when a joke was cracked
even if I did not understand it; and like them I
brandished a stout stick to brush aside thorny
bushes and swipe at passing dragonflies.
And so we made our way along the streams pausing now and then to skip over stones spread
across the water or to examine interesting-looking
pieces of driftwood and strangely-coloured
pebbles.
The sky was an incredible cornflower blue, dark
green pine-forested slopes surrounded us; the
valley was filled with the chirping of birds and the
gurgling of waters, with the scents of moist earth
and damp leaves, wildflower and pine resin.
Occasionally we would come upon a little pool
dammed off from the mainstream by a chance
rockfall or a gathering of dead branches; and then
we would cluster around and peer into it and see,
within its clear green depths tadpoles and water-
spiders and minnows and strange translucent
worm-like creatures that seemed to glow with a
light of their own. At one such pool Peacemaker
dislodged a stone and a foot long black snake
emerged from beneath and swiftly wriggled its
way to safety under a larger rook. I wanted to find
it and kill it, but the others laughed and would not
let me.
The valley grew narrower as we trudged along,
and after a while we became aware of another
sound over the pleasant murmur of the stream.
It was the hissing roar of a waterfall. Presently, we
rounded a huge rock face and there it was! Forked
ribbons of foaming water leapt a good ten feet onto
a table of black rock and swept across its surface
and down a series of rocky steps to the stream-bed beneath. Ferns, brush and weed clung to the banks;
above their dripping foliage were dense thickets
and still above lay the sombre preserves of the
wattle and pine.
We settled ourselves on a large boulder above
the cascade. Footwear came off, sweaters were
spread out, the guitar carefully removed from its
case and tuned. The others dangled their feet in
the gushing water. I wanted to do the same but
found that my legs were too short! After a few
tentative attempts (during which I felt myself slip
down the rounded boulder), I hurriedly withdrew
from the edge and instead unpacked the contents
of my satchel—a bottle of water, four dog-eared
comics, a rusty penknife, several pears, and a tiffin
box containing six thick, butter-jam sandwiches.
The others, too, spread out their belongings—
playing cards, a battered chess board, books, boiled
eggs, soggy samosas, an assortment of biscuits and
chips, buns and sandwiches, a flask of orange juice
another of warm tea, and a huge, slightly dusty
slab of cheese.
We ate and drank, the dale resounded with our
shouts of laughter. The guitar passed hands;
Peacemaker sang wistful Khasi folk-songs, Milan
set up soft accompaniment on an empty water-
bottle. The waterfall roared, the bluebottles
droned; the sun suddenly broke through the foliage
high above and the waters splintered into a
thousand fiery mirrors, dazzling our eyes.
I must have dozed off at some point, because
when I opened my eyes a slight chilly wind was
blowing down the valley and on the higher slopes
the pines were bathed in the afternoon's golden
sunlight.
I found I was alone on the boulder. An instant
panic, and then a faint cry reached my ears
followed by Bala's characteristic guffaw. I turned
and saw that the others were attempting to ford
the stream above the waterfall. Indeed, they had
already crossed the first narrow ribbon of water
and were now precariously poised on the rocks
that bordered the second channel, exploding into
mirth each time one of them lost his balance.
To me, that second channel looked as wide as the
Brahmaputra! I shuddered and decided to stay
right where I was.. .but at that moment they looked
up and saw that I was awake.
"Come on over here!" they yelled. "It is great
up here. Come on.. .if you want any orange juice,
that is!" and they waved towards a cluster of rocks
near them. I realized, with a kind of sick horror,
that they had carted along our entire refreshment
supply with them. And that too just when I was
thirsting for a mouthful of that orange juice!
I rose and slowly picked my way across a jumble
of rocks till I reached a flattish boulder opposite
where they were grouped. All had their backs to
me; they were now busy aiming pebbles at a
blackened tree-trunk on the far bank of the stream.
I glanced down. Frothing water streaked past the
boulder, inches from my feet. Gingerly I extended
a toe but withdrew it hurriedly, amazed at how
cold the waters were. Again I gazed across the belt
of water, at the brightly coloured satchels that
contained not just the orange juice but also several
delicious plums and at least two bars of
chocolate—unles s of course my villainous
colleagues had already devoured them! This
ghastly prospect, more than anything else,
galvanized me into action. I crouched, tensed
myself to leap.. .and then, for some reason, looked
towards the left.
Barely thirty feet downstream was the waterfall,
a blurry line above which hung a cloud of white
spray. Even as I looked, the roar of its waters grew,
till it swamped my senses. All of a sudden I became
intensely aware of its power, of how swiftly the
waters surged past my feet. My knees began to
tremble; I drew back a couple of paces, eyes on the
water. A twig raced past, spinning madly on the
waters. I could almost feel the mighty forces that
flung it against the rocks, sent it crashing and
tumbling along the torrent before hurling it over
that terrifying cataract...
"Come along, then..." said a gentle voice.
As in a dream, I looked up. Biman stood on the
other side, barely four feet away. He must have
seen me wavering on the edge of the boulder and
sensed my terror at jumping across this little creek!
Cheeks burning despite the chilly breeze, I made
a great show of wiping my spectacles clean while
I desperately looked for an excuse to avoid crossing
the water. When I donned my glasses again, Biman
was still there.
"I do not want any orange juice!" I snapped.
My voice was shrill and shook just a little bit.
Biman nodded thoughtfully.
"Fine!" He spoke pleasantly and stood waiting.
Furious with him, furious with myself and my
weakness, I clenched my fists/took a deep breath
and prepared to launch myself across the
channel... Once again the mad fear overcame me
and I froze in mid-step. It was terrible. Frantically,
I looked towards where the others sat. To my relief
they still had their backs turned; only Biman stood
opposite me, looking straight into my eyes, infinite
patience in his face.
I prayed that he would sympathize with my fear,
murmur encouraging words, stretch out a helping
hand.. .do anything that would give me an excuse
to feel insulted, turn away in mock anger and
retreat to safety. But no, he just waited there
quietly, limbs relaxed, eyes calm and untroubled.
An eternity passed.
All of a sudden, the chirruping of the crickets
seemed to fade, the roar of the waterfall softened
and died. I took a step forward and jumped lightly
across the channel. My heel slipped on a mossy
stone; I felt Biman's hard forearm against my back,
steadying me.. .but only for an instant. I looked up,
he was much taller than me, indeed the tallest
among us all. He gave me a nod and a kind of half-
smile, then turned and ambled across to join the
others. After a moment I followed.
The rest of that hike is now a haze of fragmented
memories. I do recall that on the way back I walked
alongside the others. Though I still did not under-
stand most of the jokes they cracked, somehow it
did not matter very much anymore.