Purba Nandi, a sixth-grade student, reflects on a nostalgic journey into a childhood memory narrated by her father, recalling a mysterious encounter.
It was a hot summer day. Birds were singing their chirping songs, the roads were full of people, and we were at home. I was six years old then and refused to eat. My mother was irritated with me for not eating, while my father was in another room reading the newspaper. I knew he was watching me from there.
I ran to him and started asking for his phone, even though it was partially broken. All I wanted was the phone to feel a bit of joy. I still remember those eyes as he looked at me. Suddenly, he said, “Why don’t you listen to a story?”
At that time, I loved stories, so I eagerly agreed. He began, “This is about when I was a kid like you. Your uncle, my brother, was younger than me. I was twelve, and he was six. We played for two hours every day, which kept us fit and strong. Unlike you, I loved drinking milk.” I gave my father an irritated look, and he understood I didn’t want to be teased.
He continued, “One day, it was drizzling, and we went to play in a forest near our house where our friends lived. We played football until 6 p.m. Suddenly, my friend shouted, ‘Look! Look!’ I saw where he was pointing. It was my aunt.”
“Do you mean my granny?” I interrupted.
“Yes, now let me continue,” he said with a hint of annoyance. “She was wearing a saree and looked strange. She called me, but I wondered why she was there instead of at home with my mother. My friend told me to go back home, and I agreed. As it started pouring, I ran to our veranda but didn’t enter. I remembered that I had left your uncle behind. I ran back, and I found him crying. I took his hand, and we came home.
“When we arrived, your grandmother scolded us for being drenched and asked us to dry off. I went to get my slippers and was shocked to see our aunt sitting on the sofa. I asked her what she was doing at the playground. She replied, ‘What are you talking about? I’ve been here for two hours, ever since you went to play.’ I asked your grandmother, and she confirmed it. I ran back to the playground, but the woman was gone.”
I was stunned and asked, “Then who was she?”
My father replied that he still doesn’t know, and the memory still haunts him.
