Rinku-Ra

Wed, Oct 7, 2009

There has been too much on my mind. So much that it’s all getting fused. Like one big ball of troubled neuron that would just explode.

I am so damn overwhelmed. Sorting has suddenly become such a difficult task. You find a categoric array, you keep it aside to deal with and while you are at it, a new assembly of issues comfortably positions itself besides it. Like two rivals who will have to meet only to make war. I could publish the skinniest book in the world titled “Collected problems of self” and it would just have one blank page inside. Too much can leave you with nothingness.

Anyhow, this post is not about making of such an exceptional Pulitzer winning book but about “Rinkura”.

“Rinku Roy” is a 6 year old boy who calls himself “Rinkura”. Yesterday morning Rinkura and I boarded the same flight. He was traveling with his mother and grandfather and they occupied the three seater in front of me. Rinkura happened to be very talkative and had an annoyingly shrill voice. I could not manage to pay a deaf ear and had to overhear his gibberish (for I could not even understand the language he was talking in). My head was already full of chaos and aches and it could barely handle Rinkura’s whimsical tunes.

Intermittently he would cry out and I would see him jump and sway above and in between the gaps of the seats. This would challenge his mother’s yelling skills and she would call out: “Rinku, idiot” ! which would offend Rinkura a great deal and he will defend himself with a louder cry.

Rinkura was whitish, skinny with deep black eyes and dimples. He looked cute. Very often, after a faint slap, he would be voraciously kissed by his mom who would lovingly whisper ‘Rinku beta, idiot’ during the kissing episodes.

Then followed a brief period of silence which allowed me a light nap but happy times don’t last. A loud shrill wakes me and I find Rinkura stuck in middle of his somersaulting adventure. Rinkura was about to drop in any of our laps (me or two other passengers sitting next to me) and was screaming for help. His grandfather was fast asleep. He had perhaps learnt tricks to forget about his existence when necessary and his mom was surprisingly not around. And so, we all got into position to protect ourselves and him. A crew member saw this and rushed to rescue four lives. Rinkura in all respects managed to kick the crew member on his face and fell on four hands (two of which were mine). And then he cried. Perhaps, he wasn’t happy about his hand-landing. Our hands were hurt but we behaved like strong adults and gave him all the attention instead. By this time, his mom came back, apologized for his behavior and asked him to return to his seat. Rinkura refused to go back to her. We asked her to relax and we decided to host Rinkura’s arrival. Since I was on the window seat, Rinkura chose to sit with me to watch the shapes of clouds and colours of skies. This is when I asked him what his name was and he said “Rinkura”. He also told me that he liked “cricket”. I asked him whether he had specific interests in athletics to which my co-passenger laughed and Rinkura remained silent. He kept himself busy attending to my co-passengers phone and my sun-glasses.

Within minutes, his mom called him again and he denied her the pleasure of having him back. Out of a certain feeling that suits such occasions, she called him “Rinku , idiot” again.

Rinkura got all violent; hitting the tray-table with both his hands and told her something in a certain language. We asked her what he said. She smiled and said “he says if you call me an idiot again, I will jump again and you will never find me.”

It is then we all realized why Rinkura somersaulted in first place. At the age of 6, his sub-conscious was directing him. His mom promised him that he will never be called an idiot again, took him back and kissed him.

At that point, I felt for Rinkura. I felt for myself. I felt for all of us.

The flight unlike Rinkura landed smoothly. While I was getting off the transfer bus, I overheard “Rinku, idiot!” followed by a loud cry.

Such is life.