Between the two worlds – 8,000 B.C

It was cold. The stars were still up when I woke up from the commotion outside. My grandfather had come from the forest, and he was looking at the sky, invoking his ancestors in his booming voice. Everything seemed to take the form of his voice.
A long time ago, my father had asked my mother to live with him. He had seen her on the edge of the forest, where she often came to collect firewood. My father liked the way she wrapped a cotton cloth around her body and tied her hair in a bun. My mother liked him too, as he was the most handsome man she had ever laid her eyes on. She agreed to live with him on the condition that he would leave his forest life and come to live with her in a hamlet. The people in this small village were all related to each other and had left forest life many moons ago. Now, they grew their own food, instead of wandering for it; they had learned to spin cotton to make cloth, they made small pots by mixing water and soil, and they never let their fire die. They had built big ovens to bake sweet potatoes and other food. Anybody who heard about their achievements was in awe of them. My father asking a girl from this hamlet was definitely a testament to his self-confidence.
My father was so in love with my mother that one night, he left his group of people and ran to my mother’s village. People in my mother’s village were astonished to see this monkey from the forest, but it was my mother’s choice whom she wanted to bear children with, so they simply accepted him. Slowly, he learned their ways. He was happy, though, at times he missed the freedom of the forest, his family, and hated the hard work he had to do to keep things going.
One night, he had a fight with my mother over the share of food and ran back to the forest. After walking for two days, he finally found his group, where they had camped during the berry season. Everybody was surprised to see him. Initially, they thought he was a ghost and didn’t want to come close to him. But then, my father slowly told them the full story of his running away to live with my mother, and they felt safe enough to touch him.
My grandfather didn’t say anything for many moons, but one day, when my father was sitting on a tree trunk, brooding over something and looking vaguely into the sky, my grandfather went and sat next to him.
“Are you going to stay here?” my grandfather asked.
“Maybe,” my father replied.
“Do you want another woman?”
“No, I miss her.”
“Then go to her.”
“Will you come with me?”
“No. I don’t want to stay in one place. This wandering is easy, good for my bones.”
“But you have nothing.”
My grandfather laughed loudly. “What do you have?”
“Clothes, land, pots, fire, and that cave we’ve occupied for many moons.”
“How is that land yours? Tomorrow, some stronger man can come and snatch everything from you.”
“No, we will fight. We even have special sticks for fighting.”
“Your opponents can also have sticks.”
“Yes, but we have a person who is very good at it.”
“And he will be your leader?”
“Yes.”
“You will be under him?”
My father went into deep thought. “Yes, in fact, he already sits on a tree trunk while we sit on the ground below him. He dispenses justice when there are skirmishes in the hamlet. Lately, he has started wearing a floral wreath around his head.”
“What else does he do?”
“Nothing. He has the biggest cave to live in, on a hill. He practices fighting, and we give him wheat in return.”
My grandfather didn’t say anything but looked at his son with penetrating eyes.
“I don’t want to go back,” my father said, realizing what my grandfather thought of his life.
After a few moons, a few people from my mother’s hamlet came to where my grandfather was camping with his group. They had come to take my father, as I was born, and they wanted my father to take charge of his household responsibilities. My father refused. The group of people carried him on their shoulders and left. My grandfather could not do anything, as these people were carrying sticks with stones tied to their heads.
In the hamlet, they decided to announce my parents as husband and wife. It was the first time something like that had happened. They drew a human face on a boulder and announced that this was the witness of this new tradition. The marriage was solemnized by exchanging garlands. Everybody was happy, including my father, because he was told that from then on, my mother was his forever and ever.
Now, we have a similar boulder close to our cave, where my mother prays every day for the safety of all of us. She prays for my father to become the leader of the hamlet. She also wants more children, as after me, she has only been blessed with two girls. She wants more boys, who can fight. My father is very proud of his possessions. He has worked very hard to collect them. A few moons ago, he traded some sheaves of wheat for a piece of obsidian, which he tied to his stick, thinking it was better than tying a stone. This was certainly our most prized possession. Besides this, we also had some ceramic pots, which were painted and baked in the sun. My parents wanted to have a roof over the boulder, which we had started calling our God. Now, my parents had big dreams for their children.
In all this, one day, my grandfather suddenly appeared on the scene.
He wanted to take me with him so that I could break into adulthood. As my father refused to send me with him, he started calling out to his sky gods to punish his ignorant son. My father was getting a little scared, but my mother came forward and challenged grandfather’s gods. She thundered that her gods were many times stronger than grandfather’s, as they protected the whole hamlet, not just a group of people. They were also more well-nourished, as they got their offerings every day.
Upon hearing this, my grandfather kept quiet and turned to leave. I suddenly ran to him. There were tears in his eyes. He said, “Never leave your father. I know the pain. It is only that I wanted you to come and live with us for a few moons so that you could have some idea of your ancestral way of life.”
. I looked at my father with pleading eyes. He looked at me with his deep, tender eyes and said, “Go, son, go with him. The forest is waiting for you.”
The sun was rising in the east, and I was on my way to disappear into the forest, to learn something different.

—— Shashi Mahajan