When Charles Sobhraj came knocking!

Follow the link to listen to the podcast of this story by my sister Lekha Warrior...

https://open.spotify.com/episode/7v7vRAIKGpRDMwTMRsoZrW

As a child, I spent most of my summer vacations with one set of cousins or another. My mother suffered from poor health and was glad I guess to be free of one of her children for some time in the year. My older brother was away in boarding school for most of the year.  My younger brother was such a handful that my parents didn’t dare send him to stay in anyone’s house. Me, I was the eternal wanderer, the vagabond child – I just needed to be set free.

This particular story was from when I was 8 years old. I went to stay with two of my cousins who lived in a nearby suburb of Mumbai. The older of the two Shree, was 4 years my senior, her sister was a year older than me.  My uncle and aunt had always been working parents and would leave home early in the morning leaving the house in the care of their children.

Being the oldest child and generally in charge of the home while her parents were out working, my cousin was already a highly responsible child. But that year, there was a sense of nervous excitement in the air. An infamous criminal and serial killer Charles Sobhraj had managed to escape from Tihar jail and was said to be lurking around the regions of Mumbai and Goa. The adults around us seemed to be in a heightened state of alert and we kids seemed to have been affected as well.

I remember talking about bad people being sent of to prisons and how they were made to wear striped clothes there. We discussed this till the excitement ran dry and then got immersed in our games. All was well in our world.

That afternoon the doorbell rang out of the blue. None of us were expecting anyone. Not knowing how to respond, we turned to Shree who looked completely disconcerted. She motioned to us to keep still then climbed a small step stool to look out of the peep hole. She gasped and hurriedly dismounted. The next thing we knew we were being shunted under the divan and told to be absolutely silent. Our young guardian joined us under the divan. Finger on lips. The bell rang again. Shree whispered “the man at the door has a big beard and is wearing a striped shirt… and he has a bag. Don’t make any noise”. Again, the doorbell rang and the person at the door knocked in frustration. In our little heads the drama was larger than life, the noise was resounding. There was a bad man at the door, for sure he had run away from prison, maybe he was the serial killer, maybe he had weapons in his bag, maybe we all would be murdered that day!

And then silence, followed by silence and yet more silence. The drama in our heads had played itself out. We started fidgeting, wanting to be free from the confines of the tiny space. One quick check as big sister went back to the door and confirmed the danger was over, the man had gone away. We were majorly excited and happy at our small victory. We had managed to keep ourselves safely out of danger. Shree was a real hero!

A few hours later, my uncle and aunt returned home. “Did someone come home today?” asked my aunt. “Peramma said she’d be sending some food items that she had brought back from Kerala for us,” referring to an older aunt who lived nearby. We filled in my uncle and aunt on the mystery man who had visited us that afternoon, still convinced that he was a runaway convict. They burst out laughing. “Peramma must have sent the stuff with Anil” said my aunt, “He’s been sporting a large unkempt beard recently, you know Anil chettan Shree,” she said addressing our Warrior sister. Shree nodded quietly and turned to us, unsure but on our faces, she received the validation she was looking for. Let our elders say what they want, we knew better. We had looked at danger in the face and had come out safe at the other end. Nobody was going to take this adventure away from us!

Those Tender Years

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