A typical market day started just before dawn, the rising sun gently bathing the town and the market traders in golden light. As ever, a few donkeys wandered around the edges of the market square munching on bits of straw and mangy dogs looked for scraps to eat. Somehow, seeing people getting on with their lives made me think that perhaps Bapuji was right. Nothing ever really changes. Major events you read about in the newspaper and heard on the wireless were just that. Bigger than you could imagine. They didn’t touch ordinary people like me and Bapuji, who just wanted to live happily near a market.
I sprinted past old man Pondicherry, sitting as he always did on a weathered old barrel in the shade right at the edge of the market. He whistled at me and called my name. He was blind as a bat but he always knew when I went past him. Sometimes, a few of the other boys and I would sneak up on him and, waiting until we were just behind him, he would turn suddenly and surprise us! He would chuckle to himself and say, ‘You ordinary people only have a limited number of senses but I have an extra sense which you can’t see.’ I didn’t have time to stop so I waved at him and immediately felt like a fool. Glancing back over my shoulder as I ran, though, I saw him wave back at me. I shook my head in bewilderment; he really did have a special sense!
As I rushed to school, I made a slight detour to see if Chota was on the roof.
‘Chota! Chota! You up there?’
No reply.
I anxiously shouted up again. Mr Mukherjee would be ushering in the last of the students and I really needed to get going. Suddenly Chota appeared on the rooftop, a little bleary eyed. I looked up at him, relieved.
‘I’ve been shouting for you. Where have you been? I thought you might still be at home in bed.’
Chota rubbed his eyes with a puzzled expression.
‘Why would I be at home in bed?’ he asked, pulling a face.
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘Because you might have slept in or not been woken up by your mother perhaps. I don’t know.’
Stretching like a cat, Chota shook his head. ‘Well, there’s no danger of that happening, Bilal,’ he said, yawning.
I shrugged my shoulders, not comprehending what he was getting at.
‘There’s no danger of that because I slept on the roof. I have done since we agreed the plan.’
I stared at him with my mouth hanging open.
Chota laughed. ‘Don’t you think you should get going? You’ll be late for school. I’ll see you later.’ And with that he waved goodbye and sauntered back to his vantage point.
At a complete loss for words, I turned round and sprinted towards the dying tolls of Mr Mukherjee’s rusty bell.