There is a small village near a prominent river of religious importance in the country. Life there is simple, the village has been maintained quite well, and it hasn’t been taken over by any private builder with a plan to open a resort or something of that nature anytime soon.
Since there were some towns around, the village didn’t face any life threatening or life changing deficiencies. In fact, a nearby town which had bloomed into a tourist place took tourists on a guided tour to the village. Hence this was an additional means of earning and two guest houses were built for those interested in staying amongst nature.
Among the most popular people in the village was Ashok Badal, once the only barber of the village and now the only one there whose saloon looked something like the premium ones in the cities. He had many customers, most of all the prominent people in the village and even the guest houses recommended him to tourists, for a small cut of the income of course.
Although Ashok was very skilled, that was not what had contributed to the primary portion of his popularity. Ashok was good with conversations, so while he was busy at his work he would start a conversation and words were exchanged as was permitted by the situation of the service. In short, he knew something or the other about everybody who was his customer. So, in the late evening when it was time to close the saloon some people would gather for a cup of tea along with conversation and the hope to hear something interesting from Ashok.
One of the village boys Madhav thought Ashok would make up part of his stories or make them up entirely, like the one about a tourist, Ashok said he was a ghost hunter and was in the village to hunt a ghost and Ashok revealed this only after the tourist was gone.
Nonetheless, the stories were interesting and even some children listened to them, sometimes rushed away by elders when the story went above their age.
One of the children grew up and has persuaded Ashok, now in his late 60s, to write down the stories to be published as a book. Although Ashok claims to not have time for it, his wife says she sometimes sees him writing for hours in a diary that he doesn’t allow anyone to see. Only time will tell whether the stories finally form a book.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
As the Stories Formed
Early Morning Memories 