Short Story: A Flash of Scarlet

Deepti Balani shares a poignant tale on life and the various lessons it brings our way from time to time.

Chapter 1

Lobaan had his gaze fixed on the little fawn as it moved with the herd of Chinkara, the Indian Gazelle, grazing in lush grassland. He raised the binoculars to his eyes and intently scoured its shiny tan coat to check if the wound had healed. Observing and protecting the animals of Madhav National Park was Lobaan’s job as a forest ranger by day, but more so, it was his religion.

After winding up his work, Lobaan walked towards his cozy cottage on the outskirts of the park. Every day, he enjoyed this leisurely walk through the forest and passed by a lake that reflected the colors of dusk in its serene waters. The vast lake was swampy and shallow in parts but mostly calm and undisturbed. The walk around the lake gave him enough time to bask in all the different shades of the twilight, ranging from the initial golden glow that sets off the magic to pink hues that hastily turn into purple, ending up with the dusky ink that turns the trees into ghostly apparitions against the backdrop of the last remnants of light.

On a day off from work, Lobaan would spend hours with his children watching the catfish, trout, and carp swim carelessly in these waters. The catfish were his daughter’s favorite because their whiskers resembled those of Lobaan’s.

Lobaan’s two children, a daughter and a son, waited eagerly for him to return. “Baba, come and see our little pet in the backyard!” cried Neema and Baru in unison, as soon as Lobaan arrived at the front gate of the house. They had brought home an injured squirrel on their way back from school. Despite being continually discouraged by their mother, the children would often return home with various harmless and distressed animals.

Lobaan’s face brightened up as he watched his children care for the new, yet temporary, non-human member of the household. He had acquainted Neema and Baru with the rules of nature and the delicate balance of the ecosystem. Owing to the wealth of knowledge that their father possessed, the children were aware of most species inhabiting that area. This only made them more inquisitive and attracted them to the animal kind.

On the contrary, Meera, the wife, was not quite content in their nature retreat. She aspired to send her children to a more respectable private school. The huge periphery of the national park cut them off from the major towns. They lived at the end of a sparsely populated village, and the nearest public school was a few kilometers away. “I was very anxious until the children arrived from school today. They were an hour late! We need to do something about it. It’s not safe for them to walk through the deserted jungle inroads,” Meera expressed. She had voiced her displeasure many times previously. Lobaan tried to calm her down, “They know the jungle inside out, so there is nothing to worry about, Meera. Besides, they often stop by to explore, which will do them good. Anyway, I will speak with them and let them know how such carelessness and delay upsets you. They will surely head straight home after school from now on.”

It was difficult for Meera to trust Lobaan’s words. He had made such promises in the past but hardly kept any. He was devoted to the flora and fauna in and around the park, and the children had the same affinity. Dismissing her anxiety, Meera went back to the preparations for Teej, a festival associated with rains, wherein women fast for eternal marital bliss. In five days, she had to prepare many delicacies for various rituals.

The state of Rajasthan had been devoid of any rain last year, so most of the lakes nearby had dried up. Teej prayers are ideally offered at a waterbody where the goddesses’ idols would be immersed. Owing to Shivpuri’s proximity to Rajasthan, and the abundance of water bodies fed through the river Kuno, made this place an ideal spot for many Rajasthani women to offer prayers that year. Flocks of women were headed to the village to stay with their relatives and had started visiting Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati’s temple by the lake. More women were expected on the final day of immersion and fasting.

Meera was excited about the recent popularity that their village had gained but Lobaan felt otherwise. He knew that such festivities and a sudden spurt in population could fatally disturb the biome beyond repair. Moreover, he worried about the toxic materials deposited in lakes as a part of the rituals.

An integral part of a married Indian woman’s vanity, vermillion powder and chemical paints used to adorn the idols that are immersed in the water bodies, have previously been shown to create havoc in various places. Yet, nothing much was done to curb this practice. This highly pigmented cosmetic powder contains toxic heavy metals like mercury sulfide, lead, and chromium, which have the potential to wipe out the entire ecological community of any lake. Lobaan had years of experience in working hard to maintain this equilibrium inside the park and its periphery. A meticulous tab was kept on the animal species and their population; every measure was taken to provide them a conducive habitat to grow and multiply. Back at the national park, he had experienced how a certain species on the brink of extinction was revived with the painstaking efforts of both the forest officers and various zoologists.

He could not bear to see it all fall apart and crumble under the name of religion. What infuriated him further was the orthodox approach of the society turning each tradition into a dogma, where most age-old beliefs are passed down through generations and observed zealously behind the facade of sanctity. And many unassuming believers followed through unquestioningly in ignorance. The evident need to adapt to the changing environment with its telling signs is being overlooked.

His stance could be easily confused for atheism, but this was not the case. Lobaan believed in the most natural state of Shiva and Parvati, in their austere forms residing in the Himalayas as yogi and yogini. He visualized them in the pristine waters of the glaciers that gently melt to form streams, then rivers that flow through the parched lands to nourish all nooks and crannies of the earth. He felt the divine powers pulsating through everything thriving and coexisting with nature, and caring for it was his own way of offering gratitude.

Lobaan wanted to share his concerns with Meera but abstained from doing so. Although, he did notify this to the Range Forest Officer, voicing his apprehension around the latest developments, which could be detrimental to both the fish and bird population found in the lake. Draksha, a compassionate and responsible officer was cognizant of the issue but helpless, as the lake was outside the boundaries of the conserved area.

There was a commotion in the streets as the whole village had come alive with womenfolk on the day of Teej. The low-lying branches of Khair, Peepal, Kheri, and Neem near the lake were adorned with swings and decorated with seasonal flowers. Girls and women were a riot of colors. Loud banter, temple bells and women chanting prayers in a sing-song tone could be heard all around the lake.

By completely abstaining from food and drinks, Meera was fasting for the happiness, prosperity, conjugal bliss, and longevity of her relationship. The day of Teej was long and tedious for her, but she kept herself busy with the exciting chatter among the womenfolk who shared the same predicament.

Having renounced nourishment for twenty-four hours, it was finally time for Meera to break her fast the very next morning. Lobaan offered to walk her down to the lake, where hordes of women had gathered to offer final prayers and mark an end to this crucial annual festival. An uneasiness gripped Lobaan’s heart, and after seeing Meera off as she joined the bandwagon, he sped off towards the park gates seeking refuge in his sanctuary.

The night guards had started preparing for their shift in the forest office but Lobaan was reluctant to leave for home. Anticipating the water body’s condition post the rites, he had worried himself sick. He trudged along the lush green inroad that brought him to the lake. A soar of golden and Indian spotted eagles could be seen encircling the lake from a distance. The air was replete with a strange scent emanating from flowers, incense, and vermillion as offerings from the festivities, all signs of hope, mixed with a stench that wafted from something devoid of life. All his senses went into an odious conflict as his gut churned with fear.

He ventured forward, wagering his sanity, and finally, his apprehension was corroborated. What met his eyes was nothing short of a crime scene; a buoyant scarlet film spanned across the lake for as far as he could see. Dead fish of all kinds, big and small, floated to the top, dotting the red with the silver specks of their motionless bodies glistening in the last light of the day, mutely recounting the macabre tale of their massacre. At that moment, everything materialized as a mocking jest that marked a new beginning with a tragic end – a promise of longevity that stemmed from its cessation.

It poured incessantly that night. Probably the heavens were weeping…

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Chapter 2

Lobaan had just returned from his evening stroll when Meera enthusiastically summoned him to watch the news story on the television. A radiant and dusky correspondent, in her late 20s, was confidently reporting the return of Olive Ridley turtles after many years on the Odisha beach. Meera gushed over her daughter’s success, no matter how much she wanted Neema to choose a mainstream career. Baru chose to pursue marine biology, and was currently involved in a project that involved studying the distribution of coral reefs along the Indian coast.

By letting go of his passion fifteen years ago, Lobaan had crafted a vocation for his children. He had taken up an administrative job at the Ministry of Environment in New Delhi. Meera was surely stoked by this move. All her aspirations to get her children access to good education in proper schools had now come to pass. Indeed, her social life was buzzing too.

Despite the worldly influences, Neema and Baru chose meaningful professions for themselves. The seeds of sustainability, compassion, fairness, and a deep passion to care for the environment had been sown long back in their being. The lessons learned in and around the forest seemed to have taken root in Neema and Baru’s lives.

Back at the lake, when heaps of perished fish were scooped out of the water, Neema had felt deep anguish, whereas Baru felt a profound pain and regretted the apathy of the offenders. These feelings had burned long enough in their bellies and fuelled their dream to educate the world and protect nature.

Lobaan had lived with an abject remorse for what transpired at the lake years ago. On the night of Teej, he had prayed and dreamed feverish dreams of saving the lake and its inhabitants. But despite his prayers, lightning did not strike to electrify the lake, nor did the rain Gods flood the plains on the day before the doomsday. No miraculous escape or divine intervention presented itself. In fact, only a progressive realization that came in way too late.

The periphery of the conserved forest area was expanded to include the lake in the protected territory later. The slaughter of the fish in the lake had affected the migration of birds to that area, creating a ripple effect, which had made the authorities sit up and take notice.

Although Lobaan had moved to the city with a shining letter of recommendation from his Range Officer, but he hadn’t quit appreciating his meager yet profound rendezvous with nature in his current locale. In their growing years, his children accompanied him for walks to a wild trail every day, planted saplings, and watched nature take its course in every season. No amount of withholding could cease them from giving foster care to animals in distress.

Reflecting on the turn of events, Lobaan could identify how his life closely resembled the fate of the fish in the lake. An overwhelming satisfaction filled Lobaan’s heart as he turned to tend to his plants on the veranda. This was not a usual garden, though. None of the plants that grew here were pruned or stunted in any way, only trained to climb the walls and seek each other’s support in the most natural patterns, as they would on a trail in the woods. Wildflowers grew in all nooks and corners, yet it looked pretty and far from unkempt.

Once again dusk had gathered, albeit this time, at the contours of the row of houses across the street. The skies started with a blushing peach, slowly starting to deepen the pigment, ending up with a magical shade of scarlet that engulfed everything within its reach, and Lobaan gratefully surrendered his resentment to this all-pervading vermillion.

Author Bio

With nine years of professional writing experience, Deepti has written extensively across blogs, magazines, and marketing copy, and has also curated literary events. One of her works of realistic fiction won a writing contest and was published in an anthology, while another short fiction appeared as a featured, recommended read in a literary journal. She believes in the quiet, mystical ways life unfolds and often reconnects with her inner world through long walks in nature, where many of her stories begin. She hopes to add a few heart-tugging pieces to the literary landscape. Her fiction lingers on the subtle shifts and shades of human emotion.