Baskadia

Uncle Bao, who was quite used to a sophisticated lifestyle, woke up early and packed a few things which we needed for the day’s trek. I, on the other hand, had ended up sleeping so soundly that it was only when the bright sun poured through the window of my tent and the cacophony of the birds became deafening that I managed to wake up. I sighed and hurriedly packed a few things in my backpack. We could not delay our trek any longer; it was best to capture the animals in my camera whilst they were in the afternoon slumber. The only apparent hurdle in our path seemed to be the river, which we could not avoid crossing as we had set up our camp on the quieter side of the forest while the secrets of the forest lay on the other.

Crossing the river had been more than exhausting the first time, especially for Uncle. This time, however, something felt odd. The river was not just flowing; it was roaring. This was queer, as the monsoon hadn’t come yet. I wanted to halt our plans for the day but Uncle Bao disagreed. He wanted our work to be done as quickly as it could. This was understandable; most elder people lose their patience very quickly. He insisted “We should go on with our work undeterred from minor setbacks. You of all people should know the value of time, especially you didn’t get it from your father”. He wasn’t wrong.

The rocks in the river had once been gigantic and strong, but the constant action of running water had eroded them. Moss had begun to grow on some of them, making them slippery and dangerous to step on. I picked up a sturdy stick and passed it over to Uncle Bao. “Don’t you need it?” “I’ll pick up the next stick I find. For the time being, you need it more than me. Stick with it”, I said, giggling at my pun. What I did not realize was that the water level was rising by the minute. We continued our tread, taking small cautious steps.

We were in waist-deep water by the time we reached the midstream. This was one of the few times I was genuinely regretting listening to Uncle Bao. Despite knowing that it was a mutual decision to cross the river, I still kept cursing him in my mind. Negative emotions had gotten the better of me. All I wanted was revenge; revenge on the very person I called ‘family’; revenge on the very person due to whom I was alive. Fueled by these thoughts, I screamed in deep anguish and picked up a pebble to throw it to take out my frustration.

As the friction beneath my shoes was very less, my short and firm steps had barely been able to contain me from the verge of slipping. The acting of throwing the pebble distracted me and I lost my balance, and I fell and hit my head on one of the bigger submerged stones. The last thing I heard was Uncle Bao’s horrified shriek before I blacked out.