The Incident at the Mountaintop

"You're too over protective," my eleven year old son complained, "why can't we go anywhere or do anything without you making a big deal out of it." He was right I was skeptical about everything and everybody in this world. When it came to my children, I did not trust a single soul on Earth. I let them have fun and do everything that kids of their age do, but I tried to make sure that they were safe.

"Okay, go have fun, I'll pick you up at 7."

As I was driving back home my mind flashed back to my childhood. Marole Gaon was a beautiful village on the outskirts of the big city, Bombay (now Mumbai). There were mountains, trees, lakes, ponds and wide stretched rice fields. I used to be outdoors all the time with my neighborhood friends in the summer--climbing trees and mountains, running in the fields and playing in the water.

One unfortunate day my friends and I decided to race to see who will be the first to reach the temple on the top of the mountain. We were three girls and two boys, all running very fast to see who will be the first to reach the top. Baloo, one of the boys, was way ahead of me and the other three were far behind, after a while I couldn't see the three behind me at all. I was very tired myself, my legs couldn't keep up any more and my chest was hurting with every breath I took.

"Run!" I heard Baloo scream. I looked up and saw him running down terrified towards me. Right behind him I saw two scary looking men with long, scruffy beards, unkempt dreadlocks, wearing saffron color wraps and chanting mantras. Horrified, I turned around and ran frantically back down the hill. As I neared the friendly confines of my community, I looked around expecting to see Baloo, so that I can ask him what happened.

Panic stricken, I looked around for him but there was no sign of Baloo. "Baloo! Where are you?!" I screamed and looked hopefully towards the mountain. There was no sound except the quiet rustling sound of leaves on the trees. A cold sweat rolled down my forehead as I felt the bile juice in my mouth. They got Baloo, I thought.

A search party was dispatched as soon as I informed everyone of the horrid incident. As I awoke the next morning, I heard the inaudible murmurs of people talking in the living room. I quietly walked to the door and overheard my father saying, "I can't believe that such a thing still happens today. I don't know what I would have done if my daughter had been caught instead of Baloo. I can't believe Baloo was taken and killed as a human sacrifi--." My father stopped speaking when he noticed me huddled behind the living room door. The news was all over the papers in the following days. Baloo was sacrificed to the goddess Maha Kali by some rogue, alienated tribal people.

"Did you have a good time?" I asked my son as he got into the car.

"Yea, the pool was great. I wish we had one too."

"Oh yea?" I said, "well, I'm glad you had a good time." I don't think he understood how content I was to see him safe that day.