Blackie The Bull

The town was buzzing with excitement. A cycle race – a major annual event in which all the best schools of the town participated – was about to take place. Suman’s school too was to take part in the race.
Next to the school was a huge field which was also the venue for practice. Those who came to practice were usually sons from well-to-do families who would be driven to the field in style. And in such beautiful cars too! Suman marveled at the colors – red, green, blue, yellow… even silver and mauve. Just like chariots out of a fairy tale. Suman would look at his old bicycle and feel a twinge of envy. When he grew up, he resolved, he would earn a lot of money and… “Can’t you see where you are going, idiot? Looks like you have buttons for eyes!” The voice belonged to a rich man’s son who, while speeding towards him on his brand new bicycle, landed on the ground with a thud. The rich man’s son named Sunil was now shouting at the top of his voice, “Aren’t you the one who comes to practice at the field? Very well, I’ll set you right there!”
Suman gingerly touched the third finger of his right hand; the ring was still there. He’d lost his fear of being struck by bullies thanks to the ring. The bullies, on the other hand, ran for their lives on seeing him. In his heart he blessed the dwarf whose life he’d once saved.
Feeling a presence behind him, Suman turned. Directly behind him was standing a large bull. It was Blackie the Bull who was also known as the ‘madcap bull’ because of his antics. He would chase people and sometimes drive his horns into them. His favorite haunt was the Shiva temple in the heart of the city.
The madcap bull never harmed Suman though. The reasons were not far to seek: Where the townspeople would call him ‘madcap’ to his face or throw stones at him Suman would always show him respect, bring him biscuits and shower affection on him.

Blackie asked Suman, “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No!” whispered Suman who did not wish anyone to overhear and wonder. But Sunil did overhear for he growled, “What are you mumbling, idiot? Too afraid eh?” His beautifully cut new navy blue trousers were caked in dust thanks to the fall. Blackie, who was beginning to lose his temper, advanced towards Sunil.
“No Blackie, no!” Suman yelled. Blackie stopped at once. A sudden hush fell among the onlookers. No one had been able to stop madcap Blackie before like this.
Dadi, who got to hear of the incident, asked, “I believe you pulled off a miracle today with the madcap bull?”
“Isn’t he a living being dadi, just like us?”
“Wow!” exclaimed dadi happily, “you’ve become so wise!”

Dadi had prepared a delicious meal of mango pickle and chapattis which Suman ate with relish. He then proceeded towards the field to practice. The race was to be held on the following day.
The cycle bought through dadi’s meager savings was very old yet Suman rode it like a champion. He would have won the race hands down if it were today. If only…
On his return he was surprised to see Blackie at his doorstep. Dadi was feeding him chapattis. What was Blackie doing there?
“Wait dadi,” he said, “I’ll feed him. Why don’t you go inside?”
No sooner had dadi left than Suman turned and asked, “Tell me Blackie, is everything alright?”
“It isn’t. Why else do you think I’m here?”
Blackie the bull then went on to tell Suman about the conversation he’d overheard at the bazaar. Sunil and his friends had held a meeting under the peepul tree at the heart of the bazaar. No one had paid heed to Blackie’s presence there. One of the boys was saying, “Lets go and give him a beating. He thinks too much of himself!”
“No!” said Sunil. “Lets not get into fist-fight. Don’t forget, the race takes place tomorrow. I have another idea: How about exchanging one of the tyres of his ramshackle old bicycle with a punctured one? He thinks he can win the race, hah!”

Suman left his bicycle outside. At night Sunil and his friends silently made their way to the hut to carry out their wicked plan.
At the crack of dawn the next day Suman was wheeling his bicycle outside the hut when he spotted Blackie. The friendly bull, in a bid to protect Suman from his enemies, began walking beside him. Seeing the two together, Sunil and his cronies turned away.

Suman won the race that day. Sunil and the other boys stared in jealous amazement when Suman sailed ahead of them on his brand new bicycle! How had he learnt of their plan? Had someone informed him? But who? Sunil scratched his head in frustration.

Actually Suman had left his old bicycle outside the night before while his brand new bicycle – he and dadi had pooled in their savings – had been lying hidden underneath his bed. Sunil and his friends had meddled with the wrong bicycle!
The race being a prestigious event of the town, Suman’s prize was awarded by the town’s mayor. Dadi said on his return that day, “I knew you would win!” Suman silently thanked Blackie the Bull.

The Tree

‘Dadi’ is what Suman’s grandmother was called by everyone. Reason being that she was too old for anybody to remember her real name.
It was quite another matter that other women were extremely jealous of dadi who happened to be the best at knitting in the locality.
Suman returned from school one day to find dadi chatting with Vimla chachi who used to knit for a living too, like dadi. Vimla chachi was telling dadi about a tree which could respond to questions.
Had Vimla chachi discovered a magical dwarf too then? He decided to pay close attention to the conversation. Vimla chachi was telling dadi about a tree which moved one of its branches answering ‘yes’ in response to questions.
Suman was amazed nonetheless. Was it actually possible for a tree to respond to questions?
That evening he went across to Romu’s who had some new information up his sleeve. The magic tree was a piece of nonsense, Romu told him. It was simply a ploy on the part of the locality’s women to show poor dadi in a poor light.
“Youth hasn’t left the hands of that old bent witch, has it!” he’d heard Vimla chachi snigger. The rest of the locality’s women had sniggered too. Kamla chachi who was noted for black and yellow teeth had laughed in glee and said, “She’s quite mad as it is, after this incident no one will want to give her any business.”
The evil plan was this: Poor innocent dadi would be led to the mango tree next to Shyam Lala’s grocery and encouraged to ask questions of it. Bystanders and passerby would laugh themselves to death. What great entertainment, the women had decided. Suman could barely control his anger.
It was afternoon yet. Suman decided to have a word with the mango tree. He was worried though. Would the tree listen to him? More important: Would the ring’s magic work on it?
Suman was still pondering these questions when Vimla chachi turned up at the doorstep suddenly. “Dadi is not in,” Suman sounded surly. “Who is it, Suman?” Dadi shouted from within. “Oh Vimla it is you! Come on in, why are you standing outside?” Looking accusingly at Suman Vimla chachi said, “Your grandson was telling me such tall stories!”
“Oh don’t mind him, he’s only a child. But please tell me, does the tree really answer questions? God knows how many times I have gone past it and never known about its magical properties!”
“Hey dadi! Just come with me and you’ll know,” Vimla chachi almost dragged dadi outside the hut. “Wait!” Suman yelled from inside the little hut, “I am coming too.” He could barely contain his anger. How jealous and small-minded these women were who were trying to make fun of a poor old woman.
Vimla chachi did not lead dadi to the mango tree, after all. Rather she brought dadi and Suman to the backyard of her house where stood a thorny tree like a watchman on guard. Suman was now really worried. He’d never seen this thorny tree before.
Poor dadi, who was utterly innocent, now asked, “But Vimla , didn’t you say it was the tree next to Shyam Lala’s…”
Turncoat Vimla chachi replied, “When did I say that, dadi? It is the same tree I told you about, honest.”
Suman, who was between dadi and Vimla chachi, turned slightly. From the corner of his eye he saw the end of Kamla chachi’s sari fluttering in the wind. Sudden laughter rose from one of the rooms in the house.
“Can I ask questions of this tree then?” dadi asked.
“Of course you can,” said wicked Vimla chachi. “But you are only permitted to ask three questions.” Someone laughed once again from inside one of the rooms in the house.
Dadi had closed her eyes in the meantime. She called to the tree, “Dear tree deity! Do you know me?” The thorny tree swayed a little and then began to shed its thorns. Pretty soon the thorns had covered the entire backyard. So amazed was dadi at the tree’s feat that she forgot to ask the other questions.
Dadi’s jealous neighbors emerged from Vimla chachi’s home with their mouths open. How had this happened? Of course, no one had seen Suman pull out his ring and rub it.

(This work has been copyrighted)