forest
Their new home was unlike anywhere they had lived before. It was near a forest. Nobody could understand where it began or where it ended. Every time she passed it by on her way to school or cycling around the neighbourhood, she couldnāt believe her luck. A real, wild forest! And not even in the middle of nowhere. Here, among the houses and kirana shops and the playground and bus stop, with a main road snaking around it as it were afraid of coming too close to it. It made her think of the magical forests she had seen in Studio Ghibli films.
But the cardinal rule of childhood was that whatever fascinates you will immediately scare adults. Neelamās parents forbid her from going into the forest āwithout an older person presentā. That is, one of them.
They had long since stopped accompanying her outside in the evenings when she went to play. Which eventually she got used to, cycling about on her own, devising games, or occasionally playing with the other kids.
But now if this rule meant that she had no chance of exploring that beautiful forest without them, she was not going to let them wriggle their way out of nightwalk.
When Neelam was a baby theyād moved many times. One night, feeling empty in a new house, they decided to take a walk after dinner. Neelam was three years old then, and called it nightwalk. They laughed indulgently, but had never ended a day without one since.
āNeelu, sometimes we have to change our routine for a little while, until we can go back to doing things the way we used to.ā
āYeah. Itās just this week. We're so busy with work and there are so many things to do around the house. Just giveāā
āThere will always be things to do around the house. And next week you will be busy with something else. Now, come on. Nightwalk.ā
Her parents had that look on their faces that made immediately made Neelam feel smug. That āwhen did our daughter get so smart?ā look. Whenever they looked at each other like that, Neelam thought, By hearing you two argue, of course. You just didnāt see me!
They cleaned up after dinner. Her parents went to put on their shoes while Neelam checked their torch for batteries. Another rule ā no phones ā which she had mixed feelings about because she couldnāt wait until she got one of her own, but she didnāt like how often her parents were stuck to it.
The three of them loved walking in the light of the stars. Ma believed that with enough time and patience, you could train yourself to see in the darkness. If you could see the way they walked from above, it would appear as if they made up three ends of an invisible amoeba: first, her parents together, Neelam striding ahead. Then, one of them would catch up with her while the other trailed behind, alone, lost in thoughts. Then her parents would pair up again while Neelam walked behind them.
Eventually, their amoeba settled into the inverted triangle Neelam had been waiting for ā her parents ahead, discussing a crime thriller. Nothing would distract them now. She had her trusty torch and had worn her quiet sandals. Just a little peek, and Iāll be back behind them before they notice.
Neelam turned and quickly walked towards the forest. It was always there, right next to the main road. It even grew alongside the small, inner roads. She had never seen it up close. The trees grew so tightly packed to each other, almost like they had made a pact against sunlight.
The forest gleamed in the moonlight. Neelam looked back at her parents, walking and talking animatedly, and smiled. Then she turned and stepped into the forest.
It was profoundly dark. Like she had been sucked into a room with no light. But she could feel the forest around her ā leaves rustling, trees creaking, the smell of sap and bark and fresh, green leaves. No hooting owls, no bats flapping their wings, not even crickets. Just towering walls of silence. She tightened her hand on the torch and flicked it on. Nothing.
Had she closed her eyes? She brought her free hand up to her face to feel her eyes. But she grazed the bark of a tree instead. āWhat is happening to me?ā Did she say that aloud?
Spreading her arms, Neelam tried to take measure of where she stood, which direction she had come from. There came the sound of a tree creaking right next to her ears.
They definitely know that Iām missing now. She swallowed. How long had it been? She tried to take a step backwards, but felt like she was rooted to the spot. Panic started rising up her throat. Just a take a deep breath and scream for them.
She put her hand to her chest. It felt rough and grainy. She wiped out her thoughts and sucked in a deep breath, and opened her mouth to scream.
Her breath came out empty. The torch fell from her hand. Trembling, she brought her hands to her lips. Was she moving them?
Her hands grazed tree bark again. A piece broke off and fell from her fingers. She sucked in great deep breaths again and again, her chest contracting painfully, but couldnāt seem to hear anything. Just the rustling of leaves, thousands and thousands of them. She tried to take another step but her body had turned immovable, eternal, still.
Trying to grasp at her throat, she looked up and saw the stars. All at once, she felt like she was being pushed upwards, against her will. The stars seem to blur and twinkle, but everything in her body was at once splintering into pieces, at once knotting and tightening. And just as her eyes could see the stars steady again, she looked around her and saw not walls of darkness but the tops of trees. Thousands and thousands of tree crowns for as far as she could see, packed close and territorial, guarding and hiding and hoarding.
Slowly, she recognised the sound of police sirens, as if emerging from years of deep sleep. She strained harder and heard the frantic voices of two women. One of them was trying to talk while sobbing uncontrollably. The other sounded harsh and afraid.
āMa! Ummi! I'm here!ā
She tried to wave her hands but immediately felt like she was stretching them the wrong way. And there it was again ā the sound of creaking tree-wood.
A wind arose from behind her and she opened her mouth to scream, hoping it would carry to her parents. But she could only hear the soft and beautiful rustling of leaves.