The Age of Kali

By Sewpal N Singh

The book of your life will have many chapters. Some will tell of triumph, some of tragedy. Some will be dull and ordinary, others intense and exciting. Some will tell of sorrow, others of joy. There will be chapters of passionate love and there will be chapters of implacable hatred. There will be chapters of pain, of anger, of envy, of ego so big that it just can’t be fathomed. Some chapters will bring anxiety, some rage, some joy, some peace. Others will resound with uproarious laughter; still others will bring down a summer rain of tears.

Life goes on in happiness and in distress; in celebration and in tragedy; during the day and during the night; in good times and bad, year in, year out.

The great cycles of the universe are never still. They move continuously, relentlessly, endlessly, on and on and on......

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Dec 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781728381978

Sewpal N Singh

Was born on a farm in Burnside a coalmine in Natal, South Africa in 1938. Completed Matric in 1957 and trained to be a teacher. Began teaching in 1960 and taught at various schools. Later qualified as a teacher of children with learning disabilities. After teaching these children for eight years returned to regular class teaching. Studied for the Bachelor of Arts and Bachelor of Education degree through the University of South Africa. Later studied Vedic scripture the Bhagavad Gita and the Srimad Bhagvatam. Taught a variety of subjects later specialising in teaching Mathematics. Have travelled widely – Portugal, England, India America and Hawaii. Retired from teaching in 1997 . Took up writing as a hobby. Nothing published till now. Inspired to write this book by the behaviour of members of society and cult groups.

Book preview

Prologue

Life is a book of many letters, many words, many sentences, many paragraphs, many pages and many chapters. There are full stops, commas, colons, semi-colons, exclamation and question marks.

How you put letters into words, words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, paragraphs into pages, pages into chapters, chapters into a book; where you stop; where you pause, where you wonder, and where you ask a question is entirely up to you.

The book of your life will have many chapters. Some will tell of triumph, some of tragedy. Some will be dull and ordinary, others intense and exciting. Some will tell of sorrow, others of joy. There will be chapters of passionate love and there will be chapters of implacable hatred. There will be chapters of pain, of anger, of envy, of ego so big that it just can’t be fathomed. Some chapters will bring anxiety, some rage, some joy, some peace. Others will resound with uproarious laughter; still others will bring down a summer rain of tears.

Life goes on in happiness and in distress; in celebration and in tragedy; during the day and during the night; in good times and bad, year in, year out.

The great cycles of the universe are never still. They move continuously, relentlessly, endlessly, on and on and on……

The never-ending cycles of the universe bring forth hope and expectation and fulfilment and certainty – the certainty that spring will follow winter, that morning comes after night, that there will be sunshine after a storm, that there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

When you look at our beautiful mother earth with eyes of love you will understand that events occur to help you realise your innate strength - the strength that enables you to overcome your pain, your sorrows and your obstacles and go forward with hope and expectation that a better day will dawn soon.

You will find that wounds heal, broken hearts mend, pain and sorrow lessen, tears are shed no more.

Time is a great healer.

The book of your life does not write itself. You are the author, the master, the role player, the protagonist.

You set your goals. You achieve the goals you set if you make the effort and fail if you give up too soon.

The secret of success in life is never to stop on a difficult page and never quit on a tough chapter in your life. Winners courageously keep turning the pages knowing that a better chapter lies ahead because with faith, determination, belief in one’s self, nothing is impossible.

The word itself says I’m possible

Losers lack the courage to turn pages and give up when faced with a difficult chapter. They lack faith in themselves and resort to devious and dubious means to achieve dubious goals with dubious results.

Some become so focussed on obstacles, delays and regrets that seeing the positives in life seem well-nigh impossible. Energy spent on brooding over what is lost, while overlooking the many blessings that remain, is energy wasted. To pull oneself out of this quagmire one need only focus on the positives and count one’s blessings.

As long as we consciously, sub-consciously or unconsciously follow the false teachings of fake and deluded teachers we will repress our natural right to have full and free access to our own spirituality, our own thinking, our own actions, our own emotions. Instead we let ignorant, deluded, prejudiced, self-appointed, so called teachers prescribe to us what to do, what to think, what to feel, how to worship, threatening unbelievable horrors and eternal damnation in the hell they have created if their path is not followed.

One may come across as full of integrity, honesty and knowledge but with time it will become evident that nothing is further from the truth.

The choice is yours.

The choice you make will determine the actions you take and the actions you take determine your destiny.

By making the correct choice you give yourself the chance to meet the challenges that change your life to create a better future, be it material or spiritual.

You are the creator of your destiny.

In life nothing remains the same as everything evolves through transformation. How you adapt to this ever-changing life leads to success or to failure and it is entirely up to you.

Chapter One

The tears had long since dried up. There were no more tears to shed.

The choking sobs as the cane slashed viciously into the seven-year-old body, writhing on the ground, were the only sounds that could be heard as the heavy bamboo cane ripped again and again into the emaciated body. Each time the cane struck him, the little boy cried out and convulsed with the agonizing pain that burned his scarred little body.

Finally, the beating stopped but the sobbing went on and on. The little boy looked in abject terror as his mother stood glaring at him with the cane in her hand, ready to beat him again if he did or said anything.

Ronith knew that if he did or said anything he would be beaten again. He lay still although each of the welts burned and the pain was excruciating. Ronith lay on the ground, sobbing. He dared not touch his body as long as his mother stood there. With a final slash of the cane that caused him to convulse, Ronith’s mother left, threatening to beat him again if he moved or did or said anything. Ronith’s brothers, who had watched Ronith being beaten by their mother, followed her. They felt no sympathy for him; indeed, they rather enjoyed watching Ronith being beaten. His mother stood at the door waiting for another opportunity to beat Ronith if he moved.

From experience he knew that if he lay quietly his mother would not beat him again.

When his mother finally disappeared into the kitchen Ronith got up and painfully limped to the tap where he tried to wash his tear-stained face. The water was icy cold and his skin burned where it had been broken by the cane. Ronith knew that he would not get any sympathy from any one. He sat with his back to the old willow tree, sobs wracking him, nursing his black and blue body.

This was not the first time that he was beaten by his mother. The beatings were almost a weekly routine and Ronith had come to accept them but today the beating had been far more brutal than usual.

He did not know what had brought on the rage that his mother vented upon him. He could only guess that she had been told something about him and that one of his brothers was responsible. He burned to know which one of them had done so. He would get even with all of them one day. His brothers seemed to get a bizarre sense of pleasure when he was beaten and cried out with the pain. They laughed at him and taunted him knowing full well that he was powerless to do anything. Even if he did do or say something they ganged up on him – three to one. Although Ronith defended himself the three of them would get the better of him and they would beat him often. When they told their mother that he had fought with them his mother would beat him while his brothers would get away scot-free.

Ronith wondered why his mother hated him so much that the slightest complaint set off her violent anger, which she vented upon him.

After a while Ronith got up although every part of his body ached and as was usual for him he set off to round up the cattle which had to be milked and then stabled for the night.

He was lost in thought as he walked along the narrow path leading to the field where the cattle were grazing.

Deep in his thoughts he did not see Anzira walking towards him.

Anzira stopped directly in front of Ronith. Ronith was so deeply engrossed in his thoughts that he collided with her. Anzira put out her hands and held on to him. Instinctively Ronith reached out and tried to steady the person he had collided with, saying,

I am sorry.

When he realized that it was Anzira he smiled. Anzira continued to hold him. Ronith looked at his best friend and smiled.

Then Anzira saw the welts on Ronith’s body and tears welled up in her eyes her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

She said, Did your mother beat you again, Ronith?

Ronith nodded and when he saw the tears running down Anzira’s cheeks he reached out and wiped them dry with is bare hands.

He said, Please do not cry, Anzira. Seeing you cry is worse than the pain I feel when my mother beats me.

Anzira sobbed, saying, I feel the pain, too, when I see those ugly marks on your body, Ronith. How can your mother be so cruel to beat you so savagely?

Anzira, I wish I knew the answer to that. I have reached a stage where I do not care what my mother does to me as long as when she is finished she leaves me alone and I hope she gets the satisfaction she wants by beating me.

But Ronith, it is cruel for your mother to beat you so savagely. She does not beat your brothers, does she?

Anzira, let’s not talk about them. You are here and that makes me feel good and we should round up the cows.

Ronith and Anzira walked together to round up the cattle. With Anzira alongside Ronith put the beating out of his mind. Anzira had regained her composure and they chatted animatedly as they rounded up the cattle and drove them home together.

Two young innocents.

The sun was setting when Ronith and Anzira parted. Anzira’s heart was heavy as she thought of Ronith. He was always kind and helpful and ever ready to smile.

Anzira thought of Ronith often. How unlike her own mother Ronith’s mother was? Anzira knew that her mother was aware that Ronith’s mother beat him frequently. She had tried to intervene but was rudely told by Ronith’s mother to mind her own business. Since then she had felt sorry for Ronith and had encouraged him to visit her. On the rare occasions that Ronith did visit them, he would do so guardedly, knowing that if his mother found out he would be in trouble. He did not want to be beaten.

The pain he felt was terrible but worse than the physical pain was the pain he felt that his own mother did not care for him. He had tried his best to please his mother, but she had scorned his attempts. Ronith had given up trying to please his mother. He led his own life and when he was at home he kept to himself although his brothers would harass him more often than not. Ronith would do his best to ignore them.

That evening Ronith finished his homework. He used a wooden box as a table and sat on the floor as he did his homework. When he finished he lay down on the straw mattress that was his bed. He had not eaten supper. Although he was famished he was too terrified to go to the kitchen while his mother and brothers were there. He watched quietly as his mother called his brothers to the table and served them their supper.

She looked lovingly at the three of them. There was Ronith’s older brother, Arun. Next, after Ronith was Aman and lastly Amit. Ronith’s father was away. He had been away for the last three weeks. Even when he was present Ronith was not allowed to sit with his brothers at the table. For some reason that Ronith did not understand, his father was powerless to do anything.

When his brothers and mother finally finished having their supper they went to the lounge where they watched TV. Ronith crept as quietly as possible to the kitchen. He helped himself to the meagre portion that was left and quickly gulped it down. He still felt hungry. As was usual Ronith washed the pile of dishes that his mother and brothers had used, dried them and put them away.

As quietly as he had come Ronith returned to his bed. He lay quietly nursing the painful welts on his body. He ached all over. From past experience he knew that the pain would be gone by the next day but the bruises on his body would still be there. He heard his brothers and mother laugh while watching the comedy programme on TV. Ever since his parents had bought the TV, Ronith was not allowed to watch any programmes. Ronith did not care that he was not allowed to watch TV. Instead he read extensively

The following day, a Saturday Ronith woke early – it was just before six. He had to milk the cows and have the milk ready for his brothers’ breakfast. He had learnt from that if the milk was not in the kitchen before his brothers got up his mother would beat him. He quickly brushed his teeth with his old toothbrush. He made a mental note that he had to buy a new one. The one he had was more than a year old. His aunt had given it to him when she had visited at Christmas. He milked the cows, putting the milk in the kitchen and then drove the cattle to the field where they pastured. He sneaked into the kitchen and hurriedly ate two slices of dry bread washed down with a cup of tea. He left the kitchen before his mother or brothers awoke.

Being a Saturday Ronith was free for the day but he did not waste his time. He needed pocket money and he earned it by doing odd jobs for the kind old lady whom Ronith called Nenna. Her name was Mrs Singh. Mrs Singh lived alone. Ronith went to Mrs Singh’s house. Ronith liked Mrs Singh. She was kind and always gave Ronith a smile and a hug when he came to do the odd jobs that needed doing. She asked Ronith to mow the lawn and then weed the little garden that in front of Mrs Singh’s house. Ronith willingly set about mowing the lawn and thoroughly enjoyed pushing the little motor driven lawnmower.

Mrs Singh looked at Ronith. He was such a willing lad and always ready to smile. She noticed the threadbare shirt and patched pants that he wore and he had no shoes. She had offered to buy him new clothes but Ronith had refused, ever fearful that his mother or his brothers would beat him. Ronith had told her that the last time that she had given him clothes his mother had thrashed him and warned him that if ever took anything from Mrs Singh he would be beaten again. Since then Ronith had not accepted anything from her except the money she paid him to mow the lawn and the odd jobs that he did for her. Mrs Singh’s heart went out for the little lad. She generally paid him more than the work he did. She also put an equal amount into a savings account that she had opened for Ronith. At first Ronith had refused but Mrs Singh had insisted that he deserved the amount she gave him. Eventually he had relented and accepted what Mrs Singh gave him.

Ronith merrily mowed the lawn unaware that Mrs Singh was watching. Ronith was lost in his thoughts. After Ronith finished mowing the lawn and weeding the garden he went up to Mrs Singh and asked her if there was anything else she wanted him to do.

Mrs Singh said, I want you to go to the shop and buy the items on this list.

Ronith said, Nenna, can you please pay me now as I have to buy a tooth brush. My old toothbrush is worn out.

Yes. Why didn’t you tell me?

She took the list from Ronith and added to it a toothbrush and toothpaste. Ronith looked at the list and the fear showed on his face.

He said, "Nenna, you wrote down toothbrush and toothpaste on your list but I….

He did not finish. Mrs Singh said, Your mother does not have to know that I bought them for you. You can tell her that you bought it out of the money that I gave you for mowing my lawn.

Ronith was reluctant to accept. He did not want to be beaten again after yesterday’s savage beating. Reluctantly he accepted. Ronith went to the shop and was soon back with all the items on the list. Mrs Singh gave him his money and put the toothbrush and toothpaste in a little packet and handed it to Ronith.

She called Ronith into the house and asked him to wash his hands and then laid out lunch for him on the dining room table. Mrs Singh always gave Ronith lunch when he came to work for her. She joined him and urged Ronith to eat as much as could but Ronith, unused to big meals ate very little. Ronith finished his lunch and after thanking her bade Mrs Singh good-bye, promising to come the following Saturday.

His mother had not yet returned from visiting her friends in the nearby town. Ronith went to his room. He spent some time cleaning his room.

There was not much to clean – Ronith not having many things in any case.

After Ronith left Mrs Singh thought about Ronith’s situation. Although Ronith did not know it he was her grandson. Ronith’s mother, Shanta was her daughter. Mrs Singh had not spoken to Ronith’s mother for over six years. It happened when Ronith was about six months old. His mother had left him at home alone and had taken Arun shopping. Shanta did not return until late in the afternoon.

Ronith was asleep when his mother left. He had awakened about an hour later. His diapers were soiled. He lay quietly until he felt hungry and began to cry. No one was around and Ronith continued to cry until our sheer fatigue fell asleep. When Shanta returned she found Ronith crying. Shanta did not attend to him until she fed Arun. By the time she finished feeding Arun, Ronith had fallen asleep again. Shanta only attended to Ronith after she had fed and bathed Arun. She grudgingly attended to Ronith. She put Ronith on the bed and gave him his bottle, placing it so that he could drink from it without her having to hold the bottle. Although Arun, six years old, was able to eat by himself Shanta fed him.

Mrs Singh shuddered when she thought of the situation as it prevailed some fifteen years ago. She recalled how happily she, her husband and two sons and two daughters were living. Her two sons were married and lived separately although within shouting distance of each other. Shanta’s elder sister was also married. Unknown to the rest of the family Shanta was having an affair with her sister’s husband, Dharam. Shanta had reluctantly married Ronith’s father, Siddhant. Although she was married Shanta still carried on her affair with her brother-in-law.

She hated being married to Siddhant and used every opportunity to be with her lover. Shanta’s sister died a few weeks after giving birth to Arun. Before dying she had pleaded with the family to give the baby to Shanta, as she did not have any children of her own although she was married for nearly five years. This suited both Shanta and her brother-in-law as it gave them an ideal opportunity to be together.

Shanta rarely slept with her husband. He worked away from home. Invariably he would be away for weeks on end and when he did return Shanta would pick a quarrel to stay out of his bed. Shanta and her brother-in-law did not try hard to keep their affair secret. Mrs Singh had guessed what was going on even before the death of Shanta’s sister. When Arun was about six years old, Siddhant spent several weeks at home and it was during this time Shanta reluctantly slept with Siddhant. To her horror she fell pregnant. She could do nothing and although she had Arun to care for she grudgingly accepted that she was pregnant.

When the baby was born Mrs Singh named him Ronith. Shanta did not show much interest in him. She fed and bathed him but that was all. Mrs Singh generally took care of him until the fateful day when she found Shanta and Dharam in bed together. When confronted by her mother Shanta let out such a tirade that it broke the already fragile mother-daughter relationship. Shanta snatched Ronith away from her mother’s arms and forbade her to have anything to do with him.

Mrs Singh was shocked at her daughter’s behaviour and to add to the impossible situation Shanta’s father had a heart attack and died within a few days. Siddhant was unaware of the situation as he was away for more than a month. He did not know that his father-in-law had died; only learning of the death upon his return. His relationship with his father-in had always been cordial.

No one told Siddhant about the affair between Shanta and Dharam.

After this the whole family disintegrated.

Mrs Singh lived alone in the house.

Shanta still carried on her affair with Dharam. With her husband rarely at home she slept with her brother-in-law practically every night. It was inevitable that she would fall pregnant. Her second son, Aman, was born a year and half after Ronith and Shanta and Dharam knew that Dharam was the father, although Shanta pretended that her husband was the father. Shanta would not let Ronith anywhere near the baby. Amit was born two years later, again Dharam being the father. Shanta loved Arun, Aman and Amit but could not stand the sight of Ronith. In her mind he had spoilt her relationship with her lover because he was the son of her husband.

Siddhant was powerless to do anything due to his work which kept him away from home for weeks on end.

As Ronith grew older Mrs Singh befriended her grandson without telling him who she really was. As for Shanta she was glad that Ronith was out of her hair. She grudgingly let Ronith do the odd jobs for her mother. She still did not want to have anything to do with her mother.

Since then Ronith had found some refuge with Mrs Singh. Ronith was unaware of the unusual situation. He accepted Mrs Singh as a kind old lady and gradually grew to like her a lot. Mrs Singh also loved her grandson but did not tell Ronith that he was her grandson, fearing that anything that she did might jeopardize his situation.

Ronith lay on his old, threadbare mattress and read the book he had borrowed from the school library. It was not long before his brothers found him reading his book. All three of them marched up to him and taunted him. Ronith lay quietly and tried to ignore them. Arun snatched the book from him and threw it on the floor. He dared Ronith to say or do anything. He was six years older than him and Ronith knew that if he said or did anything they would gang up on him.

He felt a strangely calm.

If he did not say or do anything then they would taunt him for a while before finding something else to do. After a few minutes they left Ronith and he breathed a sigh of relief. He picked up his book and continued to read.

He held back the tears that welled up.

Although he read the book his mind was in turmoil.

He burned with hatred and helplessness.

He was powerless as long as he was alone.

But one day, one day…….

Ronith stopped reading the book and went for a walk. He loved going up into the hills that surrounded the house. The walk helped him forget the unhappy situation back at the house. He looked at the beautiful flowers and trees that were changing with the season.

It was nearly time to round up the cattle and drive them home. He rounded up the cattle belonging to Anzira’s parents and drove them home. He met Anzira just as he reached the gates of the camp.

Anzira smiled at Ronith and said, Thank you, Ronith, for rounding up the cows.

They were together. I drove them home.

If ever Ronith was happy it was when he was with Anzira. Anzira, too, liked being with Ronith. They would spend time together, talking about school and the books they read. Both Ronith and Anzira were very intelligent and did very well in school. They loved to read.

Ronith and Anzira went to the temple regularly. Anzira’s parents and her brother went to the temple on festival days. Anzira had spoken of her experiences at the temple to Ronith. Ronith was very interested and joined Anzira and her parents whenever they went to the temple. Sometimes Ronith and Anzira would go to the temple by themselves. They loved worshipping the deities. Anzira’s parents were happy that Anzira visited the temple and did not object that Ronith accompanied her. In fact they encouraged them to go to the temple as often as they could.

The long, warm summer days gradually gave way to the approaching autumn. The countryside changed from lush green to brown and when the grass was burned, black.

It was mid-year examination time at school and Ronith found all the papers easy. His teacher, Miss Maharaj, liked Ronith. He was an intelligent lad and always scored well into the nineties. Miss Maharaj was very happy that Ronith had scored over ninety percent in each of his subjects. Miss Maharaj was a first-year teacher. She was enthusiastic and had found Ronith to be an intelligent and helpful lad. She liked the little fellow who seemed to be so traumatised and lonely.

Ronith’s life at school was pleasant except for the bullying of one of the bigger boys. Rupert would pick on Ronith and generally make life unpleasant for Ronith. Ronith, in addition to being harassed by his brothers, was often teased and sometimes beaten by Rupert. He hated Rupert more than he hated his brothers but was powerless to do anything.

Except for Miss Maharaj no one really cared.

When the examination results were released Ronith had come first in class. Anzira came second. Ronith did not feel any joy. There was no one with whom he could share his success. He sat morosely. Anzira saw him. She went up to him. Ronith looked up as Anzira stood in front of him.

Anzira said, What’s wrong Ronith?

Nothing.

Anzira sat down next him. Aren’t glad that you came first in the class?

Coming first in class is not the problem. I find it very easy to score high marks but what’s the use when there is no one to share my success with.

Ronith, I am proud of you. You have done very well. You should be excited.

Thank you, Anzira.

"Miss Maharaj is proud of you, too, Ronith.

Ronith cheered up.

Ronith and Anzira walked home together.

The cold winter days slowly gave way to the warmer days of spring. Ronith kept out of his mother’s sight and avoided being beaten by her. He never gave her the opportunity to find fault with him. This went on for about two months, during which time Ronith was not beaten. The wounds on his emaciated body had healed although the particularly severe ones took longer.

He worked hard in Mrs Singh’s garden during the weekends and she rewarded him handsomely. Ronith kept to himself as much as possible although his brothers would make life difficult for him whenever they got the opportunity. Ronith let them do whatever they wanted to, knowing that he was helpless against the three of them.

He usually spent a lot of time reading.

Sometimes, especially when it was warm Ronith would go up into the hills that surrounded the village where they lived.

He would spend hours alone in his favourite spot – a little grove of trees which looked frightening from the outside but when one ventured inside it was more beautiful than a well laid out park. All sorts of little animals – rabbits, dassies and mongooses and many types of birds – lived there. In the beginning the little creatures would disappear when Ronith approached but after a while they would reappear and soon got used to seeing Ronith. Ronith did not harm any of the creatures and they became emboldened, so much so that they would continue feeding or frolicking even when Ronith came in to the clearing.

There was a little spring from which crystal-clear water bubbled up. Surrounding the spring there was a lush growth of grass. The grass was like a carpet – soft and luxurious. Ronith would take his book, lie on the soft grass and read there undisturbed, finding peace in that little haven in the company of the little creatures that lived there.

Ronith watched as the little creatures frolicked in the clearing. Ronith smiled at some of antics they got up to – run around, chase each and sit quietly for a few minutes before getting up to more of their antics.

Chapter Two

With summer approaching the rainy season began and although it was getting warmer there were days when the weather would become bitterly cold and the freezing rain, driven by strong winds, made everyone and everything seek shelter. It had been raining on and off for a few days. In spite of the bitterly cold weather Ronith carried on doing his chores of milking the cows and driving them to and from the camp. He did not have any protective or warm clothing. He wore the old hand downs from Arun. He was generally soaked to the skin by the time he finished his work. He would huddle under his blanket, which gave hardly any protection from the bitter cold. Ronith never complained but carried on cheerfully although he was always cold and felt his head and body ache.

On a particularly wet and bitterly cold afternoon with heavy rain falling, Ronith, while rounding up the cattle, stepped on a broken bottle, gashing his left foot. He fell to the ground and cried out in pain. The blood gushed from the wound. Slowly Ronith sat up and tried to staunch the blood flow. He reached into his pocket for the piece of his old shirt that he used as a hankie and bandaged the wound.

He limped home with the cattle.

No one was around to help him. No one cared. His mother and brothers sat warmly dressed, with the heater on, in front of the TV. Ronith shivered as the icy cold wind sliced through his thread bare clothes. Added to this was bitterly cold rain soaking his emaciated body. The blood still oozed from the wound. The pain was excruciating as he milked the cows and put the milk away. He showered and although still in severe pain and ravenously hungry Ronith sat quietly on the mattress that was his bed. He could hear his mother and brothers talking and laughing as they had supper.

His foot throbbed, his head ached, and he shivered uncontrollably. The howling wind and the driving rain made the already miserable weather even worse. His brothers and his mother took a long time having supper. When they finally went to the lounge to watch TV it was much later than usual. Ronith was famished and the ache in his leg seemed to have become worse. He hobbled to the kitchen and helped himself to the meagre amount of supper that was left. He wolfed it down but still felt hungry. He knew that he would not get any more. Ronith, as usual, washed the dishes that his mother and brothers had used and put them away.

Ronith looked for something that he could apply to his wound. He found a little jar of petroleum jelly. He applied this gingerly to the gash on his foot. In the bright light of the kitchen he saw that the gash was at least three centimetres long and quite deep. Applying the petroleum jelly Ronith bandaged it with a clean piece of cloth. Mercifully the blood stopped oozing. He limped back to his mattress and lay down. He huddled into his bed and after a long while fell into a fitful sleep. Every now and then he would wake with the cold, his emaciated body aching all over and the throbbing pain in his foot unbearable but would again drift into restless sleep. Ronith would feel hot and he would throw off the blankets and a few minutes later when he began to shiver he would cover himself again. This went on until the early hours of the morning. Through sheer fatigue Ronith drifted into a deep sleep.

The slash of the bamboo cane ripping into his body, made Ronith scream with the pain. Several more vicious blows landed on his emaciated body before he realised what was happening. Ronith leapt out of his bed and cowered, shivering, in the corner, terrified as his mother approached him holding the heavy cane ready to strike again.

He felt weak, his head spun, his body ached, and the tears rolled down his cheeks as he tried to ward off the next blow, which caught him across his right forearm.

You lazy rascal! screamed his mother. Do you think you have a servant to do your work? Why haven’t you milked the cows? Why are you still lying in bed at seven o’clock?

Another heavy blow landed on him.

I did not know it was so late. I will milk them now. Ronith sobbed.

You should’ve done that an hour ago. You know Arun, Aman and Amit like to have fresh milk for their breakfast.

Yes, mother.

Don’t call me mother. You are a useless good for nothing idiot.

Another stinging blow landed across Ronith’s back as Ronith weakly stumbled out of his room.

He felt unusually cold and the dizziness in his head seemed to get worse. The rain and bitter cold outside cut through his thread bare clothes. He shivered uncontrollably with the cold as he picked up the bucket and let the calf out of the shed.

Joyfully the calf ran to its mother. The mother licked her baby as it suckled her. The cow looked at Ronith as he followed, limping as the wound in his leg ached horribly. He pulled the calf away from its mother and milked her.

While he milked the cow, she licked her calf lovingly. The calf rubbed her nose against her mother’s.

When he had finished milking her, Ronith mechanically carried the bucket of milk into the kitchen. His mother glared at him while his brothers sat warmly dressed in front of the heater.

Ronith limped out of the warm kitchen into the bitter cold outside. He returned to the cowshed and then drove the cows to the camp. He felt dizzy and had to sit several times before he got the cows to the camp. Fortunately the cows were well trained and they walked quietly to the camp.

On his return Ronith felt weak and unsteady. He tried to get home to his room but collapsed in a heap.

The weather became worse. Dark clouds and a gusty, icy cold wind accompanied by a steady drizzle seemed to wrap the earth in their intimidating grip. The wind howled eerily. A whistling sound came from all around him.

Ronith lay still. The throbbing pain in his foot would not stop. Each time he tried to move the pain shot up his leg. The pain was so excruciating that the normally stoical Ronith sobbed. Added to this was the beating his mother had inflicted on him. The skin where the heavy bamboo cane had slashed into his body had broken and burned.

Ronith felt his head throb. He felt weak. He felt hungry. He felt cold. He felt pain.

He tried to get up but did not have the strength or the will to get up.

He lay, sobbing on the ground.

Sometime later, Ronith found the strength to crawl to the shelter of a tree, where he again collapsed in a heap.

Anyone, not looking carefully would have thought that a bundle of rags had blown up against the tree trunk. Ronith lay delirious, unable to move, barely conscious. The cold soaking rain pelted down relentlessly on the helpless little boy, soaking him to the skin.

Ronith lay feebly under the tree.

The rain continued to fall.

Mother Nature wept for the wretched little child when no one else did.

Ronith’s father had not been home. He had returned that morning after being away for several weeks. In the pouring rain he had passed what appeared to be bundle of rags thrust against the trunk of a tree.

The rain was very heavy and it was bitterly cold.

Siddhant wanted to get home as quickly as possible.

Whenever Siddhant was home he would seek out Ronith and talk to him. Ronith, for some reason or the other was shy to speak to his father and would leave after saying a few words. Ronith’s father put it down to the little fellow not being used to him.

Arun, Aman and Amith would usually surround him and not let Ronith anywhere near his father.

Today Siddhant had not seen Ronith. He wondered about him.

He looked for Ronith and asked his wife about Ronith.

She said, That lazy, good for nothing son of yours must be loitering in his room.

Ronith’s father went to Ronith’s room to find the bed empty. He called out, Ronith but there was no answer. He wondered where Ronith was. He looked around but Ronith was not to be seen anywhere. Siddhant called out again and again there was no answer.

Instinct told him that there was something wrong. He stood in the middle of Ronith’s little room and looked around. Although scrupulously clean, Ronith’s room hardly had anything. The bed was unmade. It was incongruous. The rest of the room was neat but the bed was not made and the sheet was stained with blood.

It seemed that Ronith had jumped out of bed in a hurry.

Suddenly Siddhant recalled seeing the bundle of rags and wondered if Ronith was taking shelter against the weather. Siddhant wondered why Ronith would do that. He retraced his steps to where he had seen the bundle.

When he got there he looked more carefully at the bundle.

Siddhant called out to Ronith.

There was a slight movement and Siddhant heard sobbing.

Siddhant was dumbfounded to find Ronith lying in the rain, drenched to the skin, his little body blue with the cold. Ronith’s father bent over his son and put his hand on his forehead. The little boy’s head was hot despite the extremely cold weather.

Ronith’s father turned Ronith’s face towards himself and saw the little tear stained face.

He became alarmed when Ronith did not respond to his touch.

Reacting instinctively, he covered Ronith and picking him up carried him back to Ronith’s room. In the shelter of Ronith’s room he saw the tortured body of his son, the welts caused by the heavy bamboo cane covering every part of his body and the wound on his leg. Ronith was soaked through. Ronith was in a state of utter helplessness, barely conscious. He shivered uncontrollably. His little body was blue with the cold and his breath came in shallow gasps. Tears flowed from Siddhant’s eyes when he saw the condition of his little son. He wrapped Ronith in a warm blanket and without saying anything to anyone carried the little bundle to Dr Paruk, who had his surgery a short distance away.

As if in sympathy with him, the rain continued to come down steadily.

Dr Paruk knew of Ronith’s position and the treatment he got from his mother. He examined Ronith. He saw the welts on Ronith’s body and looked at the cut on his foot. Ronith had contracted pneumonia and had a high fever. Dr Paruk prescribed medication and treated the cut on Ronith’s foot. He gave him an injection to relieve the pain. For the welts he gave Ronith’s father lotion to apply.

Ronith was delirious. As his father carried him home Ronith sobbed softly. He put Ronith in his own bed and before covering him applied the soothing lotion. Ronith lay still, barely conscious, as his father continued. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings. He attempted to get up and go back to his room. His father gently restrained him. He realised that Ronith was afraid of his mother. Ronith was too weak to resist and soon fell into a fitful sleep – the medication taking effect.

Siddhant sat and thought about his life. He was hardly at home and he hardly knew Ronith. Arun, Aman and Amit usually monopolized him and Ronith kept away. He knew that Shanta neglected and ill-treated Ronith, but he had no idea how bad it really was. He blamed himself to see Ronith in the condition he was. He sat next to Ronith and every time Ronith stirred Siddhant would place a gentle hand on him and reassure and calm Ronith down.

It was late afternoon. The weather had deteriorated, and the rain came down steadily. Suddenly the door flew open and Shanta burst in. She had the bamboo cane in her hand. She strode up to the bed and raised the cane to strike Ronith. From experience she knew that Siddhant would do little or nothing.

Screaming, You lazy wretch, get up and get the cattle!

She slashed at Ronith. Siddhant caught the stick and wrenched it out of Shanta’s hand. Shanta could not believe what had happened. She made a grab for the stick but Siddhant held on to it.

Speaking quietly, he said, Ronith is ill.

He is not ill. He is pretending. A few good whacks and he will be better.

I am telling you that he is sick. He hurt his foot; getting wet in the rain and lying all night on the thin mattress in the cold has led to him getting pneumonia.

Shanta stared at Siddhant. She could not believe that he was protecting Ronith.

It was at this moment that Ronith screamed, Please don’t hit me! Please don’t hit me. I will get the cows.

Saying this he tried to get out of bed but collapsed and began to cough. Between the hacking bouts of coughing Ronith continued to say I will get the cows. Do not hit me. Please do not hit me.

Siddhant pacified Ronith and calmed him down. In his delirious state Ronith saw his mother ready to beat him and cried out, Please don’t hit me, please don’t hit meeeeee….

Ronith passed out.

Shanta was stunned.

In a quiet voice Siddhant said, Please leave Ronith alone.

Shanta stalked out of the room. Siddhant covered Ronith and sat by his bedside. He administered the medication and applied the lotion to the welts.

It was late when Siddhant fell asleep.

Anzira wondered where Ronith was. It was unlike Ronith not to round up the cows. No matter what the weather was Ronith would always round up the cows. Ronith had told Anzira not to come when the weather was bad, as he would fetch the cows but today he had not.

She had rounded the cows and driven them home. The cows belonging Ronith’s parents knew their way home. Anzira did not have to drive them to their shed. When Anzira got home she told her mother that Ronith had not come to round up the cows. Anzira’s mother guessed that there was something wrong with Ronith. However, she was powerless to do anything. She looked at Anzira and saw the tears in her daughter’s eyes.

She went to Anzira and putting her arms around her, said, Do not worry, darling. There must be a reason why Ronith did not come.

Ronith never misses out, mom. I am sure that there is something seriously wrong with Ronith.

It is too late to do anything tonight but we can check tomorrow.

Anzira spent a restless night thinking about Ronith. The cold and wet weather added to a beautiful little girl’s anguish. Tears rolled down her cheeks. When she finally fell asleep it was with a heavy heart.

Ronith awoke intermittently during the night. He was still delirious and cried out in fear of being beaten by his mother. His father calmed him down and Ronith would fall asleep only to again wake up sobbing.

The miserable weather seemed to conspire with the night as the rain pelted down and the wind blew with such ferocity it seemed nothing would stand in its way.

The long night finally gave way to day. The rain still fell but it was gentler than it was during the night.

Siddhant dosed fitfully and was tired after the long terrible night. The lightening of the sky woke him. He looked at Ronith. Ronith’s face was tear stained and every so often tears rolled down his cheeks.

Siddhant felt Ronith’s body. The fever was still there, and his body burned.

Siddhant cursed himself for not being home more often to look after Ronith. When he looked at Arun, Aman and Amit he saw how healthy and well they looked compared to Ronith. Ronith was so thin that even Amit looked bigger than he did. He had not paid much attention to the situation. He had believed that Ronith was naturally slightly built and had not thought it possible that Shanta would ill-treat Ronith so badly. He knew that his work kept him away for long periods of time and when he did come home, Ronith would not show himself. The other boys hogged him and Ronith would be forgotten.

Siddhant berated himself for being so blind that he had not noticed what was happening to Ronith.

Later he got breakfast for Ronith but Ronith was too weak to keep anything down.

Anzira decided that she was going to see Ronith and find out what had happened to her best friend.

After driving the cows to the camp, she went to Ronith’s home. Ronith’s mother glared at her but said nothing. She hated Anzira for being Ronith’s friend and when Anzira asked about him she pointed in the general direction where Ronith was lying. Anzira went to the room. Siddhant was there and he smiled at Anzira. Anzira smiled and asked about Ronith.

Siddhant said, Ronith is seriously ill but he has improved a little.

Siddhant knew about Anzira and Ronith’s friendship and was very glad that Ronith had a friend like Anzira.

Siddhant really looked at Anzira for the first time and realised that Anzira was a very beautiful little girl. More than just her beauty she had a heart that was full of love, gentleness, kindness and compassion.

Siddhant, after speaking to Anzira for a while, left the room. Anzira looked at Ronith. She was shocked by what she saw. The tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked at her best friend lying helpless on the bed.

She went up to him and stroked his cheeks. Ronith’s cheeks were hot.

Ronith was not aware of Anzira. He was still feverish.

Anzira reached out and took Ronith’s hand in her hand and gently massaged it. Anzira had a strange feeling as she held Ronith’s hand. She felt as if a strong force was flowing between his hand and her hand. She felt very calm as long as she held Ronith’s hand.

The sensation stopped as soon as she stopped holding Ronith’s hand.

Anzira sat silently looking at Ronith. Ronith looked so helpless and Anzira wished he was awake so that she could talk to him but Ronith was fast asleep, the medicines taking effect. Anzira left after a while. She decided that she would come back later.

When Anzira got home her mother saw the tears in her little daughter’s eyes. She asked Anzira about Ronith. Anzira sobbed as she told her mother that Ronith was seriously ill.

In her mind Ronith was going to die and she would never see her best friend again.

She sobbed as her mother comforted her.

Anzira’s mother took her daughter’s hands in hers and spoke gently to her.

Anzira, my dear, listen to me. Ronith is seriously ill. We really cannot do much. All we can do is pray.

Mom, thank you. I will pray to Krsna to help Ronith get better.

With that she went directly to the prayer room and prayed, Shri Krishna Please help Ronith to get well.

As she prayed, tears rolled down Anzira’s cheek; she sobbed quietly while she prayed for Ronith to get well.

The faith of true innocent friendship.

When Ronith woke Siddhant took him to the bathroom and helped him to brush his teeth and then shower. With a fresh set of clothes Ronith felt slightly better. His father gave him his medication and applied new dressing to his wound. Ronith fell into a fitful sleep.

Angered by her callous treatment of Ronith, Siddhant sought out Shanta and confronted her about her treatment of Ronith. Shanta did not show any remorse. On the contrary she accused Siddhant of neglecting her, Arun, Aman and Amit and only caring for Ronith.

She accused Siddhant of having affairs with other women.

Siddhant realised that it was pointless talking to her and walked out. He returned to Ronith, who was sleeping. He went to Ronith’s room and looked at the tattered old clothes that were hanging in his cupboard. Although the clothes were tattered they were clean and hung neatly.

Ronith did his own washing and ironing.

Without saying a word Siddhant took the particularly badly tattered ones and burnt them. He made up his mind that when Ronith was well he would take him to the mall and get new sets of clothes. He would also get him a proper bed and mattress, bedding and blankets.

His heart was heavy as he thought of the treatment Shanta meted out to Ronith.

Shanta, on the other hand, couldn’t care less what he thought.

To her Siddhant was just a nuisance when he was at home.

She hardly slept with him although she slept with Dharam regularly.

Siddhant just could not believe that Shanta was such a heartless woman.

He was puzzled by her treatment of Ronith. She did not treat the other boys the way she treated Ronith. It seemed to him that she hated Ronith.

Anzira returned that afternoon. She went directly to Ronith. His father was there and Anzira greeted him politely. Siddhant smiled at Anzira and then Siddhant left the room. Anzira sat on the bed next to Ronith and spoke to him. Ronith heard Anzira’s voice and feebly opened his eyes.

Anzira smiled at him. Ronith was in so much pain that he could barely smile.

Anzira said, How are you feeling now?

I do not know what happened to me, Anzira. I feel so weak.

You hurt your foot and you got wet in the rain and that has made you sick.

Thank you for coming.

I have brought you a little gift

Anzira reached into her pocket and took out an envelope, which she gave to Ronith. Ronith reached out feebly and took it from her. With unsteady hands he opened the envelope and withdrew what was inside.

He looked at the picture – a beautiful picture of Krsna.

Ronith smiled as he looked at Krsna, then looked at Anzira and whispered

Thank you, Anzira, thank you for giving me Krsna.

When Anzira saw the smile on Ronith’s tear stained face she knew that Ronith would soon get well.

She cheered up.

Her prayers had been answered.

She got up, took the picture from Ronith and placed it on the dressing table where Ronith could see Krsna all the time. Anzira told Ronith that she would visit him again and left.

Ronith looked at the gift that his best friend had given him. Krsna was smiling at him and Ronith smiled. He felt at peace. His mood improved, and his mind cleared.

Then he remembered what had happened.

He looked at the wound on his foot. It was neatly bandaged, and the pain had lessened considerably. The pain from the beating his mother had inflicted on him had also decreased. He tried to get up but could not. He saw his father come in. Siddhant looked at Ronith and smiled when he saw Ronith awake. He went up to Ronith and stroked his head. Ronith, unused to such affection, recoiled.

His father stopped and said, How are you feeling?

Ronith could only whisper, A little better.

Do you want something to eat?

Ronith nodded his head. His father went to the kitchen and returned with a cheese sandwich and some warm milk. Siddhant knew that Ronith did not eat meat. Siddhant encouraged his son to eat. Ronith took small bites and sipped the milk. After a few bites he could not eat anymore but drank the milk. Siddhant tucked Ronith in and told him to rest.

He carried the tray back to the kitchen.

Ronith lay in the soft warm bed and looked at Krsna. Krsna seemed to smile at him. Ronith felt strangely calm looking at Krsna. He looked so attractive and so happy. What was more Krsna seemed to be smiling only for him.

Ronith slowly drifted into a deep sleep looking at Krsna.

When Anzira got home her mother saw that Anzira was far more composed. She enquired about Ronith. Anzira told her mother that Ronith was feeling much better.

Anzira’s mother hugged her daughter and said, Your prayers helped Ronith get better.

Yes mom, I am sure that Krsna answered my prayers and I am going to thank Him for answering my prayers.

With that Anzira went to their prayer room and with tears in her eyes she thanked Krsna for helping Ronith get better. Krsna seemed to smile at her.

Anzira’s mother looked at her little daughter. From a very young age Anzira and Ronith were friends. Growing up together Ronith and Anzira had become firm friends. She liked Ronith.

She prayed that their future be a wonderful one.

The future’s not ours to see.

Siddhant looked in on Ronith and found him sleeping peacefully. He kept watch on Ronith. Ronith spent a far more comfortable night although every now and then Ronith would wake up and cough. Siddhant helped him, giving him medication or water. By next morning Ronith had improved considerably.

When he opened his eyes his glance fell first on Krsna. Krsna was smiling and Ronith smiled at Krsna. Ronith tried to get out of bed but was still too weak to do so. His father came into the room just then. He helped Ronith get up and helped him to the bathroom. He helped him shower and then dressed him in fresh clothes. He was appalled that Ronith’s clothes were old hand downs from Arun. He was furious when he realised that although he made adequate provision for all of them Ronith had not been given his fair share.

Ronith said, I have to milk the cows and drive them to the camp.

Do not worry about the cows. They have been taken care of. Do you want breakfast?

Ronith, unused to be given breakfast, stared at his father and said, I’ll get it.

No. You stay here and I’ll get it for you.

With that his father went to the kitchen and returned with cereal and a warm glass of milk. Ronith ate a little of the cereal and sipped the warm milk. Ronith was still weak and his father told him to rest.

Later he took him to the doctor. Dr Paruk checked Ronith out and found that he was recovering well. Dr Paruk advised Siddhant to take particular care that Ronith didn’t get into a situation like the one he was in again as it could be very dangerous.

If he did it could be fatal.

It was several days later that Ronith was well enough to sit up.

Anzira visited him every day and this helped Ronith recover.

Ronith when alone would look at Krsna. Ronith could not take his eyes off Krsna and would look at Krsna until he fell asleep.

Ronith’s father cleared out Ronith’s room, burnt the old straw mattress and bought a new bed and mattress. He also bought new clothes and shoes. When Ronith was well enough his father took him to his room. Ronith looked fearful. Siddhant knew what made Ronith fearful and reassured him that his mother would not beat him. Ronith sat gingerly on his new bed. It felt strange. His father smiled at him at then told Ronith to rest. Ronith lay on the bed and still weak was soon fast asleep. His father tucked him in and left.

When Anzira visited Ronith that afternoon she was surprised at the change in Ronith’s room. She was excited that Ronith would not have to sleep on a straw mattress on the floor again. She fetched Krsna from Siddhant’s room and placed Him so that Ronith would always see Him first when he woke up. Anzira had brought some homemade biscuits for Ronith. Ronith and Anzira spoke about school. Ronith missed school and looked forward to returning. Anzira filled him in on what was happening at school.

Ronith recovered and once again did the chores. His father left a few days after Ronith had recovered. Ronith kept pretty much to himself, ever fearful of his mother and of being beaten by her. He was well enough to visit Nenna and do the errands that needed to be done. Nenna had heard about Ronith’s illness but did not visit because of the relationship between her and Ronith’s mother. She was glad to have her grandson visit her. Ronith wore his new clothes. He looked and felt different. Nenna, too, was happy that Ronith did not have to wear the tattered and patched, hand me downs.

Chapter Three

In school Ronith soon caught with the work and Miss Maharaj made sure that he understood everything. This was easy as Ronith was an intelligent lad and did not need too much help.

The thorn in his side was Rupert who invariably bullied him.

Ronith returned to his favourite haunt. It seemed that the little animals had missed him. They scampered away when Ronith came but returned a short while later, peeking from behind the little bushes before coming out and carrying on as if nothing had happened. Ronith smiled to himself as he saw the little creatures frisk about.

Summer had come and with it the blossoming of new life. The little buds on trees were turning them green. Flowers began to open, shyly, it seemed. The little spring bubbled merrily before flowing out and disappearing in a little stream into the undergrowth to join other little streams before joining the river that flowed through the village.

Diwali was a few weeks away and the excitement in the little town was great. Ronith did not particularly look forward to the celebrations. He knew that he would not get any joy. He