A sharp cry broke the tranquil silence; a baby’s cry. It was followed by a hushing sound, a desperate one, “He has been crying since morning, Ma. I just don’t get why!” The woman holding the baby complained as she rocked the baby. She looked frustrated, by the baby’s cries, by herself, and by the whole world. “Is he hungry? Do you even feed him enough, Aditi?” The older woman sitting beside the younger one on the lone bench replied, with much distaste, making her experience known, “You used to cry all the time as a baby, always a hungry child you were.”
“Of course I fed him! Why do you have to bring up my childhood every time Arjun cries? I take very good care of him. No matter what I do, he just keeps on crying and crying and crying! I just want everything to shut up!” She was screaming now. The older woman quickly took the baby from her hands, as his cries intensified. “You’re making it worse!” she scolded her daughter. Geeta was never one to speak calmly to her daughter, Aditi; finding faults was her specialty. The tension lingered in the air long after the words were spoken. It drifted through the quiet park, settling between rusted swings, and the old benches that had once been crowded with children.
Perhaps that was why, at the farther end of the park, even the blooming wildflowers and the sweet scent of honey and dew failed to make the air feel warm. The reds, yellows, purples, and blues blurred under the slightly colder air, not because of the immense amount of flora, but artificial, almost a psychological chill, full of tension, the kind that settles like a dense fog waiting for a storm. As though trying to pierce through that gathering mist, Riya had wrapped her hand around Srishti’s, squealing with joy. “So, what are we doing here?” Srishti asked, looking down at her friend, her hand loosening its grip. Riya smiled brightly, her shoulder-length dark brown hair fluttered with the breeze. “My didi used to come here all the time, she and her friends used to hang out here after their college and eat ice-cream,” she mumbled with excitement. Srishti nodded, her expression showed no excitement; it gave away nothing.
‘Nothing’ was Riya’s living nightmare; she hated not knowing what someone was feeling, what they were expecting, or not expecting. Riya had a habit of doubting herself and her decisions; she believed every decision she made reflected her mind, and people judged her based on these choices. Even now, her heart raced. Had Srishti not liked this? Was she bored already? “Do you not like this?” Riya’s voice trembled, “We could go to the theatre, or we could–”
“No. It’s okay, let’s just go in,” Srishti said dryly. And so, the friends chose the nearest bench, sitting close enough to touch, yet worlds apart in understanding. The bench’s varnish had peeled into thin curls; it was mostly just old, rotting wood now, but there were still signs of the past on it, some scribbled in permanent markers, some carved by rocks. Riya excitedly pointed towards two particular ones. “Hey, look! That’s my sister and her best friend’s signs! Should we do this too?” The other girl turned around and looked at her wearily, “Do we have to?” she asked, tense. Riya mindlessly fiddled with the strips of wood that were peeling off, rough to the touch yet somehow mushy. She wondered how bright this park must have been a few years back.
“Earth to Riya!”
“Sorry, what were you saying?” she replied.
“Why are you being so weird?” Srishti asked, and the daily routine resumed.
“Oh, I am the one being weird right now? Am I the one who finds it weird to be spotted in a park with her best friend? Am I the one who is never making an effort to hold a conversation for more than five seconds?” Riya replied, her voice quivering. Srishti sighed, “Look, I just have a lot on my plate–you know that, with my father falling ill and my mother being away for a few months, my siblings are not easy to take care of.”
“I know! That is why I brought you here. To catch a break.” Riya argued. Srishti gave her a bitter smile, “Must be easy to think that going to some abandoned park would make someone feel happier all of a sudden. You’ll never understand my pain, Riya. Never.” Riya stayed quiet then; that’s what she did when Srishti talked about her life. She knew the times were hard for her friend right now, she was never able to express her thoughts freely because of that. The silence between the two girls grew heavier by the second, interrupted only by the distant cries of a baby somewhere across the park. The sound rose and fell like another argument the park had unwillingly absorbed into itself. In order to distract herself, she toyed with the pink periwinkles, plucking one and twisting it in her hands. It was cold and soft, so she held it tightly. It was crushed in her fist. The pink and purple were smeared all over her palm. Riya stared at the stains on her skin as though emotions could leave marks behind.
Perhaps they did. After all, loneliness seemed to leave its traces everywhere in the park that afternoon. Even at the entrance stood a reminder of it, a much smaller one, with only a stitched doll for company. It was a girl about seven years old. She looked around, but it was only upon seeing no one her age that she stepped inside the park. She stumbled upon a patch of long green blades of grass with dew on it, plucked one, twisted it, tied the two ends, and made a small ring for herself. She put it on her ring finger, then she made one more and put it on her doll’s hand as a bracelet. From the periphery of her sight, she could see a girl older than her sitting with another girl who had braided hair just like her doll, on the bench near the fountain. ‘They must be really good friends’ she thought, and wondered what it felt like to have someone to sit beside like that since Ira didn’t really have friends. When she moved to Dehradun from Mumbai with her parents because of their jobs, she didn’t get along with her new classmates as they never invited her to anything, never let her join their groups. She didn’t mind, though. She was used to it by now, but she was bored right now, and had made enough grass jewelry to supply a town in the fifteen minutes she had spent on the patch of grass! She got up, clutched her doll, whom she had named Nina. It was her grandma’s name, and walked towards the friends. The lady with shorter hair looked down at Ira with awe, “Hi there,” she said. The girl sitting next to her was looking at her phone, distracted. Ira extended her hand without a word. She grasped two grass rings in her hand, a little soggy because of how tightly she was clutching them. “Are these for me?” the lady asked. Ira nodded, “My parents wear matching rings, and they are happy, you aren’t wearing any, rings make people smile, and they make people be friends,” she said. The lady smiled as she took one ring, put it on herself, and tugged at the other girl’s sleeve. “Wear this. It makes people happy,” she said, smiling a little, unable to hide the amusement. The other girl looked confused at first, then she noticed Ira, her hand reaching out with the ring. She took one, raising her brows, and wore it. The two girls giggled among themselves. Ira had proven her theory, alright. “So, what is your name?” the girl with short hair asked, leaning down to Ira’s height. “Ira. What is yours?” Ira asked. “I am Riya, and this–” she said, tugging at the other girl’s sweater again, “is Srishti.” She smiled at Ira, “Hi.” Ira smirked playfully, “Are you two best friends?” Riya’s face dimmed, her smile receded. The other girl looked taken aback, too; that question was a bit uncalled for. “Well…Yes, we–” Riya was about to answer when Srishti interrupted her, “Not really, we aren’t.” She eyed Riya.
Ira didn’t see that. In her seven-year-old eyes, the two girls looked like the best friends who got along with each other, who made flower rings for each other, and who would never leave each other. Ira felt that familiar pang of loneliness again, like the one she often felt at school when every seat was taken except the one next to hers. She gently made her way back to the grass. Through the green fence that surrounded the park, she could spot some children outside, her neighbors, they never really invited her to play with them, and her mother never let her have the phone for more than fifteen minutes a day, so she could not play the games that the older kids did. Putting up some courage, she ambled towards the houses and approached a girl about her age, “What are you doing?” she asked shyly. The girl had a beautiful pink rose tucked in the crease of her ear; it smelled beautiful even from a distance. The girl looked at her with surprise, “I am…playing with my friends,” she said, and jogged away. She answered Ira’s question, but like everyone else, didn’t invite her to join. Defeated, she walked back to the park. Only then did she notice three people besides the friends who were on the bench. There was a woman, a cute baby in her hands, and beside her was a grandma. The baby was shrieking. Ira wondered what made the baby cry. But it was loud, and she was in no jolly mood to play with it.
On the lone bench beneath the trees, little Arjun had not stopped crying, back in Geeta’s arms. “Oh no, oh no, what happened to my little grandson? Why is he crying? Is he hungry? Is he sleepy?” she baby-talked. Arjun paid no heed and continued to cry, his face as red as a beet. “How could I not be fed up, Ma? No matter what I do, he doesn’t stop crying. Doctors say it is normal at this stage,” Aditi cried out. Geeta just sighed disappointedly and returned to rocking the baby, but the tension in the air refused to settle. Beyond the restless cries and rustling trees, her eyes drifted toward the fountain where two young girls sat side by side on a weathered bench. One spoke with animated warmth while the other stared into the void, as though carrying something too heavy for words. For a fleeting moment, Geeta was reminded of herself and Aditi years ago; always beside each other, yet somehow never on the same page.
At the bench near the fountain, the air was still dense, and many words were left unsaid. “Srishti. Be honest. What’s going on? You just seem so distracted, you know how much places like this mean to me.” Srishti sighed, “Look, you won’t understand my problems. There’s just so much going on that I cannot spend so much time enjoying the ambience and feelings. I don’t care if your sister was here with whoever.” Riya sighed, “I am here, if you need me, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you,” she said. Srishti, however, just looked around at the trees that were shaking with strong gusts of wind.
After what seemed like hours, Arjun’s wails finally broke into a tender, lively laughter. His giggles were full of life, something so gentle yet so carefree that even the little periwinkles around the park began to sway with the wind. Aditi finally let out a breath and relief flooded her system. Even Geeta relaxed her face. Ira, who was now fully immersed in making a sand dress for Nina, looked up. Arjun stared at her from his grandma’s lap with awe. Ira gave a tentative smile and approached the trio hesitantly.
“Hello there!” the younger woman said to Ira, “What is your name?”
“Ira.”
“Ira…” The woman repeated thoughtfully. “Do you want to play with Arjun?” she asked, bouncing the little boy on her knees as she took him from the older woman. Ira nodded. The two women made a small space between them on the bench, and Ira huddled between them. Arjun reached out to her, practically pushing himself on her, away from his mother. “Oh! He seems to have taken a fancy to you already!” The woman exclaimed as she handed Arjun to Ira. Ira held him tight. She had never held a baby before; as was known, the older woman kept a hand on Arjun’s back for support. “Go on, dear. Speak with him about anything, he loves listening to people talk,” Geeta said. Ira smiled, “Well…My name is Ira…and I…love playing with Nina, my doll. You might just be my first friend here…and…” she drifted off, talking at a warm, comfortable pace. Geeta and Aditi looked at each other with worry. “First friend? What do you mean?” Geeta interrupted tenderly. Ira nodded solemnly, “I moved here with Mama and Papa from Mumbai. I had so many friends there, we used to play all the time…now no one plays with me here, no one likes me.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “That’s not true at all!” Geeta suddenly exclaimed, “You can always play with Arjun here,” she smiled. Ira smiled back. “I have an idea!” she exclaimed suddenly, “Why don’t I get more people here?” Aditi looked confused for a second, then asked, “Who?” Ira pointed towards the young duo sitting a few meters away. “I gave them rings some time back because they looked sad…but they still look sad.”
Geeta felt overwhelmed as she watched the young girl pluck at the flowers, looking so helpless. She saw her younger self in the girl– misunderstood and hurt. Her eyes shifted to the girl with braided hair next to her, who looked equally distracted. She kept glancing at her phone, then at the girl, then back at her phone. Geeta glanced at Aditi, and Aditi understood at once, perhaps it was the shared connection of a mother and a daughter, or it was simply empathy, who knows. Aditi took Arjun from Ira’s hands and settled him gently on the soft bed of grass. He shrieked with joy as he began crawling. He was at that stage of life when crawling was the most fun game and feeling different textures was the greatest joy. As Geeta had predicted, he crawled towards the only other occupied bench in the River Park. He ended up sitting at Riya’s feet. She looked down, first confused, then surprised. The crushed periwinkles fell from her hand as she looked around. She gently picked Arjun up, her eyes wide. Even Srishti looked at the baby now.
The girl finally noticed Geeta and Aditi. Geeta signaled for the girl to bring the baby over, so the girl got up, holding Arjun in her arms. The girl with braided hair followed behind, eyes still glued to her phone. “He’s really cute,” she said, handing Arjun to Aditi. “What is his name?” she asked. “He is Arjun!” Aditi replied, smiling brightly. Riya then introduced herself and her friend. “Oh, I’m Riya, and this is my…friend, Srishti,” she said, looking at the girl with braided hair standing next to her. Srishti did not look at them; she was still busy on her phone. “I’m Ira!” Ira yelled at the top of her voice, bouncing up and down on the bench. The adults gave her a warm, knowing smile. “I’m Aditi, nice to meet you! And this is my mother.” Aditi replied, pointing towards Geeta.
Among all of these people, Arjun was like the star; everyone wanted to hold him, but when he was set on the grass again, he crawled toward Srishti. Srishti was still looking at her phone, despite everyone around her smiling and enjoying the moment. Riya was about to hold Arjun back when Geeta signaled her to stop, and let Arjun do his thing. Ira stared at the baby intently, wondering what he was even doing, going to someone despite being ignored. Arjun tugged at Srishti’s jeans. Startled, her phone fell to the ground, and she was about to yell when she noticed the innocent baby near her feet. She stopped herself. Srishti crouched and picked up Arjun, as he giggled and hugged the girl and tugged at her braids. “You do know how to hold children,” Geeta observed, eyeing Aditi, who looked a little uncomfortable. Srishti laughed awkwardly. “Yeah…I have had to take care of my siblings a lot lately, and it has been very difficult. I really don’t know how you manage to do all this,” she said, looking at Aditi, who smiled gratefully. Geeta looked at Aditi too and saw her little girl, except that she was no longer little; she was a mother too, and she was tired. “Yeah, she really does a great job,” Geeta said. Aditi’s face lit up as she looked at her mother.
Riya took Arjun from Srishti’s arms and played with him, too. She knew that any more kids to hold, and Srishti would probably have a breakdown. Srishti, for the first time in days, smiled warmly, not a trace of worry on her face as she took in the baby’s innocent laughter and Riya’s expressive smiles only made him laugh harder. She felt bad for ever speaking rudely to her best friend, and she felt grateful that her best friend never complained. Friends like these are hard to come by. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled quietly through the noise, but Riya heard it and smiled at her friend. “It’s okay.”
The phone lay forgotten on the ground, the sweet, chilly air filled with laughs of all pitches, the feeling that the park had regained its spark and wasn’t as lonely anymore. Beneath the same fading evening glow, voices that had once belonged to separate corners of the park now blended together with ease. Ira just looked at everyone, her heart swollen not with sadness or loneliness, but with warmth. Feeling like she finally belonged somewhere, here, in the River Park.
-Isha Barve
