A fictional narrative based on incidents from the childhood of Swami Vivekananda.
aren looked out the window. It was a perfect day to play outside. The rain drenched street shimmered under the bright sun, a cool breeze bringing relief from the summer heat. He ran down the stairs into the courtyard and just as he opened the main door, his mother called out. ‘Naren, it will rain again… stay inside… ‘Ma, I am tired of staying indoors…I am only going till the saptaparní tree…if it rains, its thick leaves will protect me…
Standing under Shibu’s window, he threw a handful pebbles at the glass. Shibu’s head peeped out, a smile breaking on his face. ‘Come to the tree, Naren told him. ‘And bring the others too… They all gathered soon, the tree’s blooming flowers glittering like gems against the wall of a big house. ‘So what game are we playing today Naren?” Shibu asked. Naren swung up onto a branch and considered. ‘Hmmm…let’s pretend we are tree dwellers…the ones on the low branches are the subjects and the one to reach the highest, is the…King!’ There was a mad scramble, each boy trying to climb higher than the other, each one wanting to be king.
An old man stepped out of the big house, banging his walking stick on the porch. ‘I wish it hadn’t stopped raining, he grumbled. ‘It was nice and quiet for the last few days… now these monkeys have returned to wreck my peace… He called out to them, ‘You there! What do you think you are doing?’ But the band of merry boys did not hear him, laughing and shouting, perched in the saptaparni, their faces beaming like its flowers. ‘Boys,’ he shouted again, banging his stick harder.
dan ‘Sir, what is it?’ Naren jumped off a broad branch. ‘Are you not well? Do you need our help?’ The old man gritted his teeth. ‘Need your help indeed, he muttered. ‘He must be the ringleader…the cause of all trouble…wait, I will fix him… Aloud, he told Naren, ‘I am worried for you all…don’t you know there is an evil spirit in the tree? It is a ghost of a
wicked man who was murdered many years ago, right under it….and it has been living here.
since…
A hush fell over the boys. Shibu darted a glance at Naren, his heart beating very fast. ‘How do you know it lives here?” Naren scratched his chin, his large eyes puzzled. ‘Have you seen it, sir?” The old man glowered. ‘Ah, you don’t believe me, he said, annoyed. The racket you make will surely wake up the ghost…..and do you know what it will do? Stretching out his thin arms towards Naren, he continued. “It will catch hold of you and break your chubby little neck, like a twig…snap!’ The boys screamed, quickly climbing down the tree, its branches swaying dangerously. Yes, run and play elsewhere, the old man nodded satisfied. ‘Stay safe children…go far away from here…
They ran, not stopping till they reached the corner of the lane, well beyond the saptaparni. Where is Naren?’ someone asked and Shibu quickly looked around. ‘He isn’t here, another boy panted. ‘Do you think the ghost has caught him?’ ‘I am going back,” Shibu announced. “We’ll come with you, the others chorused, trying to look brave, holding each other’s hands tightly.
They tip-toed back, terrified, certain to find the ghost’s sharp claws gripped around
Naren’s neck. Instead they gasped, not from fright but from relief and joy. With his legs
hooked around a branch, Naren swung upside down, the rustling leaves keeping him
company, Shibu ran to him, crying out, “Thank goodness you are fine…we were so worried!” With one hard swing, Naren somersaulted, landing nimbly on the ground, the boys gathering around him, losing their fear. “You are all so silly, he remarked, his eyes twinkling, ‘If there really was a ghost in this tree, our necks would have been broken a long time ago… The old man sighed. The boys were back, screaming and shrieking. ‘Ah well, I tried… and failed… and taking two little cotton balls, he stuffed them in his ears.
Courtesy Swami Vivekananda mission
By Vinodhan,