The Ravaged Orchard

The Ravaged Orchard

In-between the trail zigzagging its way up to the High School and Lhemo's cottage, lies the fenced, lush green apple orchard. A city-bred boy, I had no idea about orchards like this one. Apples of all shapes and sizes; red, blackish red, light green and yellowish, the ones the locals call the "golden languor", can be found here.

How surprised I was when one day, on my way back from school, I found a child playing football by plucking an apple from the small tree with its apple-laden branches bending down, almost caressing the ground!

On holidays, I take my mattress out, spread it beneath the apple tree nearest to my room and sit down with a book in my hand.

Chhimi, Lhemo’s pretty daughter, comes and sits by me. Despite our age difference of almost thirty years, she has become my friend.

"Sir, have this." Stretching a golden languor forward to me, she exclaims. She often brings me a dish of ema datse, sag and even fish curry, made of the trouts from the nearby river, occasionally. 
***
That golden afternoon I found that monster of a man helping Lhemo collect the apples in a basket. I knew that he was Lhemo's beau. Nothing wrong with that but when Chhimi turned up a little later and climbed down the wooden steps leading to the courtyard of the cottage, the hungry look in the lecher’s eyes frightened me. He winked at Lhemo, who beamed coyishly.
Looking up, I uttered a silent prayer.

At sun-down when he knocked on my door to hand me the cup of steaming suja, I got panicky knowing he was going to spend the night at the cottage in Lhemo's bedroom, adjacent to Chhimi's.

Next day being a Sunday, I was busy doing the weekly chores. It was not until three I had a chance to go to my favourite spot in the orchard. Resting my back against the tree-trunk, I looked around.

"What a gorgeous day!”

It was almost dusk when I realised that I hadn't seen Chhimi for the whole day! I noticed her dragging her feet towards me just then.

She was a sight! Her kira was blood stained, her wanju exposing the raw wounds around her neck! Her eyes were bloodshot.

Gone was the child in the span of a night. In place of the child, there emerged a worldly-wise woman! Without any pretence, she whimpered :

"Can you give me a hundred bucks, Sir?”

As she requested me, she dabbed at the blood-trickle at the corner of her lips on the back of her long-sleeved arm.

"Why, Chhimi? What’s wrong? Why do you need the money?"

I looked past the golden apples on the tree beside my room, at the crimson sky above the mountains before fixing them on her flushed face, shaking my head.

She kept looking at me and cried out:

"Sir, I don't want to stay here a minute longer. Can you help me get out of this living hell?"


Notes :
Suja – Bhutanese buttered tea.
Kira – Woman’ s long grown like those worn by Tibetan women.
Wanju - blouse



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