The first rays of the morning sun streamed through the window, rousing Rohan and his brother Marius from their slumber. They shared quiet laughter, uncertain if their elder brother Ajit and their friend Denzil were awake yet. Their whispers eventually stirred the older boys, and they all rose from their beds to gaze out the large window. The morning fog was gradually lifting over the nearby tea plantations, unveiling the sunrise. The boys tidied up their bedding, eager for another day of adventure in the Hatton hills.
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Their day commenced with a walk to their mother’s villa, a separate structure from their sleeping quarters. This is where the plot thickened. Adjacent to their mother’s villa were residences housing young female nurses. Despite their tender age, a strict rule was in place: no fraternising. The boys were sent away each night, not precisely expelled but directed to sleep in another villa a few hundred meters distant.
Every morning unfolded with a delightful ritual. Ajit, Rohan, and Marius — the sons of the woman in the villa, along with their friend Denzil, would journey to their mother’s villa. There, they were met with the scent of a hearty breakfast lovingly prepared by the mother of Ajit, Rohan, and Marius. Eggs, soft white bread, and generous helpings of butter were the usual fare, with cheese making an occasional appearance as a morning delicacy.
Irene, not just their beloved mother but also the matron of the area’s major hospital, shouldered the heavy responsibility of managing the hospital’s nursing care. Yet, despite her demanding schedule, she somehow mastered the art of juggling her career with the care and meals for her three boys, a daughter and their ever-present friend, Denzil.
One complication arose in this family dynamic. Shanti, Ajit’s younger sister by a year, wasn’t included in their usual games. It seems there were gender roles to be respected, even within the close confines of their family unit.
Ajit, the eldest, had recently initiated Denzil into a new “teenage adventure” — smoking. Neither of them truly knew how to smoke, but the act itself held a strange allure, a feeling of maturity they craved. Of course, smoking in front of others was completely out of the question. These things were done hush-hush.
Shrouded in mystery, this newfound “adult” activity felt worlds apart from the wide-eyed innocence of their younger brothers, Rohan and Marius.
So, the two older boys hatched a plan. They’d sneak away to the tea bushes, armed with a box of matches and their single cigarette. The first puffs were rough, leaving them lightheaded and coughing. But for them, that discomfort was a badge of honor. The smoke scratched their young lungs, but in their minds, it was a thrilling sensation, a feeling that pushed them closer to adulthood. It was their little secret rebellion, a puff of smoke exchanged for a fleeting sense of grown-up accomplishment.
Come ten o’clock each morning, the four boys would embark on their daily exploration of the tea plantations. But before the trek began, Ajit, with a mischievous glint, subtly steered Rohan and Marius onto a different path. This was his cue.
When the younger brothers were out of sight, Ajit and Denzil would disappear into the dense tea bushes. With a conspiratorial glance, Ajit retrieved their forbidden treasure — a cigarette with a brown filter in his pocket. He surveyed their surroundings, ensuring no watchful eyes lurked nearby. The coast clear, he struck a match against the rough surface of the Elephant brand matchbox, a small flame flickering to life.
Cupping the flame, Ajit brought it to the lone cigarette, taking the first long drag. He puffed out a perfect smoke ring, a fleeting display of accomplishment in this illicit ritual. Then, with a quick pass, he offered the burning ember to Denzil, who followed suit with a few hesitant puffs.
Hidden amongst the emerald embrace of the tea bushes, the two boys huddled together, a giddy sense of transgression settling over them. The lightheadedness brought on by the harsh smoke added to their thrill. After a few stolen moments, they extinguished the cigarette, the remnants of their rebellion buried beneath the earth. Rising to their feet, they rejoined the trek, faces betraying no hint of their secret adventure.
With a final, nervous glance around, the two boys rubbed their fingers vigorously against the tea leaves, desperately trying to erase any lingering tobacco scent. A stray glance at their shirts confirmed they were (hopefully) free of incriminating traces. Getting caught by Aunty Irene with even a whiff of smoke was a risk they weren’t willing to take.
Only then, satisfied that their secret was safe, did Ajit peek through the tea bushes to confirm the clear coast. The younger brothers were nowhere in sight, allowing them to rejoin the trek with a newfound sense of swagger – the swagger of boys who had defied the rules, even if just for a stolen moment.
A few minutes later, the rustle of leaves announced the return of Ajit and Denzil. The charade was over. Merging back with the two younger brothers, they continued their trek deeper into the tea bushes. Little Marius, the youngest, clung playfully to Denzil’s shoulder, a stark contrast to the air of secret triumph the older boys tried to conceal.
Their path snaked up and down the verdant slopes, a seemingly endless tapestry of emerald green. Waterfalls shimmered in the distance, their roar a constant companion. Estate bungalows, like miniature colonial outposts, dotted the landscape. Tiny roads snaked through the rolling hills, and the occasional vehicle traversed them, resembling ants from their vantage point. The whole world stretched out in front of them, a giant adventure waiting to be unravelled. Above them, snaking along a distant ridge ran the railway track. A plume of white smoke trailed behind a brown-coloured train, hinting at its journey from the bustling capital far beyond the rolling hills. The sight likely sparked Marius’s curiosity, prompting questions about the faraway tracks and the lives they held, a stark contrast to their own world amidst the embrace of the tea estate.
The trek continued, their laughter echoing through the tea bushes. Soon, they stumbled upon a sight that brought a collective gasp – a water spout gushing forth a stream of cool, clean water. The spout was bare, with nobody in sight. The elder boys, ever the instigators, declared it bath time! Ajit was stripped down in a flash, his clothes bundled haphazardly amongst the tea bushes. Denzil wasted no time following suit. The water, a refreshing contrast to the mid-morning heat, cascaded over them, eliciting squeals of delight. Here, amidst the privacy of the tea estate, they were free – uninhibited and invigorated by the simple pleasure of a cold shower.
Not wanting to be left out, the younger brothers soon joined in the watery fun. This was a far cry from the more sedate showers in their hospital quarters. Here, the water was invigorating; a shared experience cemented their bond as brothers and companions.
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The boys revelled in the open-air shower, the midday sun warm on their backs and the cool water cascading down, washing away the sweat and grime of their trek. Suddenly, a faint giggling reached Ajit’s ears. His heart lurched. Peeking through the spray, he saw a group of women and children from the tea estates approaching the water source for their daily bath. Panic seized him. “Denzil,” he hissed, his voice barely audible over the roar of the water. “We’ve got company!”
A rumble and a plume of smoke signalled another train barreling past, its passengers erupting in surprised hoots. The sound jolted the boys back to reality. Shamefaced, they sputtered one by one, making way for the approaching women and children. Confused whispers passed between them about the unexpected reaction.
Seeking refuge, they ducked into the tea bushes, letting the sun dry their skin. Once dry, they pulled on their clothes and continued their trek, the mystery of the hoots a puzzle yet to be solved.
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