CHANGE OF LUCK

Gopal whispered excitedly, “Hey, hey, look. The float is moving.”
Sure enough, his float bobbled up and down at first slowly and then quite violently. Must be a big one. Pull it up. Pull it up. Our thoughts must have been the same.
Gopal pulled up his line eagerly. At the end of his line was a big fish, a tilapia. In those days few people caught such fish and ate them, as they were common and cheap. They were meant as food for the chicken. They were abundant in mining pools and rivers. They tasted of mud and soil as they live in such places.
Now they are a delicacy and quite expensive though. They are not caught from rivers or ponds but reared in special cages; high-tech fish farming, they now call it.
My line was still in the water; its floating peacefully. Suddenly it started moving, so were the others. Gopal was right all the while. We should not have doubted him all along.
Hauling up the lines was such fun now. Fishes of all sizes were hauled up. Some big, some medium and some really small ones. Each time a small one was hauled up, we laughed and teased the fisher. Soon each of us had about three or four fish. The problem now was how to keep them alive. We had not expected so many of them and so we did not bring a long any nets or baskets.
Thaila had a brilliant idea. It was to be a standard idea used by many-experienced angler. There were reeds growing on the surface of the pond. We pulled one and made a knot at one end. We inserted the sharper end through the gills of the fish and out through the mouths of the fish. Then we placed the reeds of fish into the water. In this way the fish were kept alive in the water until it was time to go home. They could not escape and therefore could not inform the other fish; we believed. Wow! An idea was born due to necessity.
Even with the noise, laughter, shouts of delight. And the sound of footsteps running around, the fish kept coming at the baits. Removing the fish from the hooks and putting new worms as baits were carried out in precision.
Soon each of us has four stings of fish. Each string contained eight fish. Only then did we realise that the sun had already set. It was quite dark. I guessed it was about eight o'clock. Without any delay, we hauled up our reeds of fish and carried our fishing rods to go home.

Disappointment - No fish

That was the cue to get back to our business of fishing. The sun was still bright as ever. It was hot. I guessed it was about four o'clock. In those days none of us had a watch as there was no actual need for it. We were quite good and accurate at estimating the time during the day by looking at the shadows of trees and homes.
The floats on our lines did not move and this meant that the fish did not take the baits. Strange! came up with a logical explanation. He explained, “Look, the sun is so hot. So is the water. The surface must be hot but not the bottom. It must be cool down there. The fish would rather stay there, right?”
He added, “Be patient. Give it some more time. When the air is cooler, I’m sure we would get some fish.”
So we waited patiently. We kept very quiet because we did not want to frighten any of the fish and hoping that our luck would be better. Minutes passed and soon the sun was dipping slowly over the hills. Our patience was wearing thin. Gopal must be joking; fishing here and not a single bite. Could it be that the fish here are the spirits of the dead from the graveyard? Maybe so! That was why they knew we were waiting for them. All sorts of crazy questions ran through our minds. We were discussing all the possible reasons quietly.
The sun dipped further and Ravi and I were about to pull up our lines.

Through The Graveyard Part 2

“The pond! The pond!” We shouted as we hurried to a tall and shady tree; an excellent spot to rest and fish. Even Ravi had a wide grin on his face. The tranquility and peace of the surrounding was similar to the graveyard.
Due to the excitement and the expectation of getting to fish, all else was forgotten. Hurriedly we took out the long wriggily worms and attached them to the hooks. As I inserted the sharp end of the hook into the worm, it wriggled and squirmed; probably due to the pain. Sorry, but worm, you are bait for the fish.
Eagerly we dropped the lines into the pond. Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Plop! Five lines were dropped into the pond instantly. We then waited for the float to move. We waited and waited.
It was at this time that some of us looked around and noticed that we could still see some of the tombstones not far away. They were not clear though because of the bushes and the trees but we could make out the distinctive shapes.
It was also at this time that we felt a little queer about the surrounding. The trees around the pond were mostly wild cherry trees and there were plenty of little ripe and red cherries hanging from the branches. Usually the birds; mostly mynahs and sparrows would be feasting on them. There was an unusual silence surrounding the area. It was as if the birds feared coming to this place. There was only a rare twitting of birds quite far away.
The fear crept into us as if someone had cast a spell. We kept totally silent expecting at any moment some great beast or spirit to spring from the pond or drop from the tall trees around us.
Suddenly a meek voice broke the awful silence and it made goose pimples appear on our skin. It was Ravi.
He asked, “Are there any ghosts here? I’m afraid.”
Trying to be brave Gopal replied, “What ghosts? This is a pond, not a graveyard, ha, ha.”
“Gopal, is there another way to go home? I mean can we go home without having to use the same way that we came through?" I asked.
Gopal hesitated and replied, "Yes, but it is longer and we need twice the time. That was the shortest. Anyway, why? Are you afraid?"
"No, it's just that we Chinese are advised not to trespass such a place especially at night. That place belongs to the dead." I said.
Gopal with a smile said, "Don't worry. If we do not disturb them or harm them, we should not be afraid. Let's talk about fishing for now, okay?"

Passing through the Graveyard

We did not notice the flat slabs of stones in rows. They all had inscriptions in Chinese. The lettering was in red and gold. We only paid attention at them until Guna pointed at them and asked what they were. I told them that those were tombstones and we had arrived at the Chinese cemetery. Only then and from the cold facial expressions that we were scared.
As we made our way along the path with the tombstones we saw pictures of the dead attached to some of them. We were looking at them and passing remarks like; "Hey, this one is an old lady or this one is a man or this one is quite young or this lady is young and beautiful." We were not scared because we were in a group and it was in broad daylight. If it had been at night our tune would be different and we would not have walked so calmly along this path. I for one would surely have sprinted all the way home. It's funny what can happen or do when we in a group. Spirits are high and there is bravery among us. Of course who would admit one was scared shit-green. Then the others would have called him a "chicken".
We increased our pace. What a relief! The thought of having to return to this place on the way back was too much. Could there be another way or detour instead of this? I was sure these questions were churning in our minds all that time. Nobody asked and nobody dared to query. Deep down we were just acting brave.
Once out of the yard and into the open ground, we slowed to a slow walk instead of a jog. Stunted trees and bushes turned to trees and beautiful landscape. To our left we saw a huge vast span of water.

On our way again

“Go now. Oh, where re you going to?”
“Fishing,” Thaila answered.
“Where?” he asked.
“A pool nearby,” Guna replied.
“Did you ask your parents?” he asked again.
“Yes,” we chorused.
“Okay, but be careful and go home early. Do not play in the pool.” He advised further.
We thanked him again and again and watched him walking away. We picked up our gear and with the guavas in our hands we set off on our way. I was certain that encounter with the Sikh must have left a deep impression in our lives.
Further up the path, we smiled and were soon laughing like hyenas as if the whole incident had not happened at all. The guavas were really delicious and thirst quenching. After munching half way through the fruits we then realised that we had altogether forgotten to wash our hands. We ate two each within minutes even with those dirty hands.
Ravi was still sighing and cursing because he felt guilty about the whole affair. It must have been the bump on his buttock that hurt too. We consoled him and asked him to forget it.
At one point he had really wanted to go home because he was disappointed and afraid. After much coaxing and support, he forgot the idea of quitting.
The afternoon was hot and we were sweating profusely. Our shirts were stuck to our backs and we were feeling uncomfortable. We were hurrying along the sandy track because we wanted to reach the pond that was supposed to have a lot of fish.

Surprising turn of Events

Suddenly the Sikh started a loud bellowing of laughter. Something must have made him laugh like that. We could not understand as we were still in a shock.
Slowly he stopped his laughter. He looked at us and was stern.
In between smiles he said, “Okay, look at the lot of you. You look like some dirty kittens.”
“What?” one of us asked.
“Your faces. Look! They are black and dirty,” he said.
“Our faces?” another said.
Looking at our hands, we slowly understood. We did not have the opportunity to wash our hands after the encounter with the slimy gooey earthworms. That was why our faces were stained. So that was why the Sikh was laughing so loudly.
After the laughter, his face turned to a more serious expression. We knew that he was still sore over the whole incident of stealing his guavas.
So Ravi with a pleading voice said, “Oh, please let us go.”
Gopal added, “You can have all your fruits. Take them.”
“Yes, we are very sorry,” I said softly.
“Sorry. Do you know that taking things from others without permission is bad and wrong. It’s stealing, do you know that?” he asked.
“Yes.” Someone answered.
“Why did you steal my guavas? Tell me!” he demanded.
With that barrage of questions and his stunning change of expression, we could not answer him.
Somehow, a voice answered. It was Ravi. He said meekly, “We’re sorry but we are thirsty. The fruits were so delicious.”
“Yes, but you should have asked me,” he said.
Gopal siad, “We did not see you and we are afraid.”
“I’m not a tiger so I cannot eat you,” he added. “What if you injure yourself or break your leg or hand climbing up amd down the tree.”
“We’re sorry. You can take these guavas back, please,” Thaila said as he stretched his hands with the fruits.
“No, you can have them but next time do not steal. You can ask me. I shall pluck them for you. I have a long pole for plucking fruits.” He advised.

Did we escape?

All seemed well and safe until from behind the tree the same Sikh appeared. With one look at his face, I thought that I had fainted. I thought I must have been in suspended motion looking at him. How the others reacted could not be imagined.
We knew that we had no chance to escape this time. In the confusion and shock, all I could hear were, “Sorry… Please… Let us go, very sorry..,”
I could not remember what I had muttered as all of us were in tears and we were begging earnestly. Our hands were rubbing away the tears that were rolling down like huge raindrops.
We did not realise that we were still clasping the guavas with one hand and the other rubbing away the tears on our cheeks and on our faces.

The Great Escape

He grabbed one branch and was about to step onto another when the branch he was holding on broke and he lost his balance. He tried to grab another branch but in vain.
“Oh. My God,” I said. I could not dare to watch and imagine the consequence. The others just watched with their mouths wide opened.
‘Thud! Thud! Crash and boom’ He landed onto the ground under the tree like a sack of potatoes. As he was falling down he could not help crying and shouting.
The shouting and the loud landing must have been so evident that the owner came shouting at the top of his voice. We had not noticed him sleeping under another tree as we were so engrossed in the climb by Ravi and the juicy fruits. All else did not matter now. We shouted for Ravi to make a dash.
The Sikh came bellowing and shouting curses at us. He ran from the tree he was resting under towards the place where Ravi was. Ravi got up with an uneasy effort. We were just helplessly waiting outside the compound for our friend. Ravi managed to scale the barbwire fence and over the wooden wall. He had just managed to join us when the Sikh came charging at us but stopped at the fence. All the while he was scolding and shouting. We were petrified we were also screaming not of anger but pure fear and the safe return of our brave climber, Ravi.
We took to our heels and sped off along the sandy lane away from the compound. We could not see the Sikh after a few hundred metres and around a few bends. We regrouped under a tall and shady tree to regain our composure. Breathing heavily and sweating profusely, we sat down and rested.

Action! Go Ahead. Get them!

Stealing! Stealing them would be a serious crime. If we were caught; we could not imagine the worst. Our parents would be informed and we would be locked up in the cell of the police station.
The temptation was so great that we had to get the fruits come what may. Finally after a long discussion on the pros and cons, we voted to steal them. By using a show of hands, we voted Ravi to do the nasty job. We used the common rhyme “Lai, lai, li, li lai thum, plomp”
He was quick and agile and soon he was over the barbed wire fence and the wooden wall. As agile as a monkey and as quick as lightning, he was up the tall guava tree. Our hearts pounded in union and I bet we could hear the pounding too. Each of us hoped he would not fall and that the owner would not come charging like a bull and shouting. We whispered and urged him on his arduous task of climbing. The fruits were quite high up in the tree. I was sure then that this was the reason why he had not bothered to pluck them. What a waste! I wondered.
Soon he had reached a big and voluptuous one. He plucked and dropped it over the fence. We were able to catch it. Next he move over to another branch and he did the same. From one branch to another he moved. We had not made any mistake in the candidate for this job. Fruit after fruit he plucked and we had quite a number. We whispered and asked him to get down as we already had enough to share among ourselves.
Ravi must have been greedy because he attempted to reach another branch where a huge juicy guava was awaiting him. Then the unexpected happened. Did the owner came and caught us stealing? Read on.

STEALING

Without wasting any time, we started off for the pond that Gopal had mentioned. Like a small infantry we wandered off along sandy tracks and lanes. The cows and goats used these lanes to get to the fields or lorries carrying sand and earth often used them to go to the work sites. Farmers have often used these lanes or tracks to get to their farms.
After a while, we arrived at another cow shed. From previous knowledge we knew that it belonged to a Sikh. (You can see one with a turban on his head some where) As we were walking beside his wooden fence, we noticed that his cows and goats were not around. They must still be grazing in the field nearby as the day was still fine. They would usually be back at around seven or eight in the evening.
There were some guava (jambu in Bahasa Malaysia) trees in his compound. These not only provided shade for the cows but also produced tasty fruits to the owner. Our eyes nearly popped out of our the sockets because hanging from the branches were big red and juicy guavas. Out mouths were watering because we could imagine the juicy, delicious fruits if we could get our hands on them. We stood in amazement and awe. I bet we were wondering at the same time why the fruits were not plucked and eaten. Some were already on the ground beside the tree. What a waste!
It was altogether an instant reaction to the five of us. We were rooted to the spot even though we knew that it was impossible to pluck and devour them. Asking from the owner would be impossibe because we had often seen the owner’s angry look and the shouts he had casted on people who passed by.