Why the Sky Has to Be Blue

It must be six. I can tell from my half-closed eyes. Dad and Mom were sitting across the room, sipping their morning coffee. They were talking very softly, trying not to wake me up. Little did they know.

Dad said the landlord had called yesterday. He wanted to increase the house rent by ten percent from this year. Kaushik’s school fees would also go up. I pray it wouldn’t be more than five percent.

Mom took a slow sip of coffee. She said the maid was also asking for a pay raise. “I don’t know how we’ll manage,” she said. “What’s the scene at your office?” she asked. “Are you getting a hike this year?”

Dad looked at her for a moment. “You know I joined this job with a hike just this year,” he said. “I don’t think they’re going to increase anything.” He took another sip and said, “That’s why I was hesitant about booking the flat. Income increases and we immediately plan the expenses. Now we’re back to square one. Living paycheck to paycheck. And that too with a lot of effort.”

Mom didn’t like that. She never did. She had always wanted a house of her own. A place she could call home. She picked up the cups and went into the kitchen. Her voice floated back. “So what was your plan? That we stay in a rented house our entire life? Worry about rent increases every year? Keep shifting every five years? Come on, Manas. One day we needed our own home.”

Dad stood up and wiped the dining table. “But why now?” he said. “Kaushik’s expenses are there. The market isn’t great. This year the EMI will go up too.”

Mom’s phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and sighed. “The maid isn’t coming today.” Dad signalled her gently to keep her voice low, pointing toward me. My innocent dad.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’ll chop the vegetables. You put the rice on the stove.”

Mom didn’t look convinced. “It’s the third time this month,” she said. “And it’s only the seventeenth. She wants a hike too. We should change the maid.”

Dad helplessly walked into my room and sat beside the bed. “Wake up, Kaushik,” he said. “The sun isn’t late today. You shouldn’t be either.” Dad left the room and I pulled the blanket over my head again. I wanted to lie down for a little longer. Mom came in and opened the curtains. It felt like the sun had been waiting for permission. Light flooded the room. I closed my eyes. She pointed toward the washroom. Brush. I pretended not to see. She came closer and kissed my cheek. “My baby,” she said. “Get ready. You’ll run late for school.”

I don’t like brushing my teeth, but I like the taste of the toothpaste. I like this time when I’m alone. I like watching the water come out of the tap. I put my hand under it and change the direction and pressure. I don’t know why Mom gets upset when I do that. She says it makes the bathroom wet. Aren’t bathrooms supposed to be wet? There was a new face wash on the shelf. I took a little and tasted it. It wasn’t like toothpaste. I poured some into the toilet and pressed the flush. The water turned bubbly and white, then slowly disappeared. I pressed it again. More bubbles. Then nothing. I could do this all day, but I’m not allowed.

I finished brushing and took a bath. My uniform was laid out on the bed. Who decides these colours for school uniforms? There are so many colours in the world, yet everyone chooses the same boring ones. They look dry. Dad was reading me a story the other day. He said there is a God fellow who created this world. I don’t know what’s wrong with that fellow. The sky is blue. Why? It would look much better in purple. The sun would look beautiful against a purple sky. It would be even better if the sky and sun had different colours on different days of the week. Each week could have a new colour. And seven different shades within that. What a colourful world that would be. That God fellow has no sense of colour.

“Are you ready?” Mom shouted from the kitchen. “Breakfast is getting cold.”

My uniform was boring, so I stayed boring too. I went to the kitchen. Maid aunty wasn’t coming today. That usually meant Maggie. Yum. Mom’s Maggie has magic. She adds something that makes it taste different every time. I know she’ll give me oat milk with it. That ruins everything.

Dad was honking downstairs. He always teaches me patience, but he never uses it himself.

Outside, Tippi was there with his mom. Tippi is the puppy who came to our building from nowhere. We met a month ago. He started licking my shoe. I like Tipi. My mom doesn’t like me playing with him. Tippi’s mom doesn’t like it either. She keeps pulling him back.

Mom shouted from the balcony, “Kaushik, are you playing with that puppy?”

I ran to the car. Dad looked at me angrily. I kept my head down and got in. From the window, I saw Tippi standing beside his mom. He looked like he was smiling. My mom waved from the balcony. I waved back.

> I don’t know why people wave. What does it even mean?

At the first junction, I looked around. Where was the beggar uncle? He usually sits there. His beard is dirty. Most days I can see food crumbs inside it. He has a squirrel in his bag. The squirrel pops its head out and looks at me. I think it smiles. The squirrel’s colour and the beggar uncle’s beard colour are the same. Maybe they are brothers.

Dad rolled down the window and gave him some money. Mom said he doesn’t have a house to stay in. Tippi also suffers in the rain. But the squirrel does. The bag is his house. Or the uncle’s hand.

The car reached the school. Balu sir was waiting outside the school gate. He always waits for me. One of his hands is different from the other. One hand is like mine. The other one is very strong and cold. He doesn’t move it much. I like holding that strong hand while entering the school. He has a gun. He once showed me an old photo where he and his friends were holding guns. They were fighting bad people who wanted to hurt us. They called themselves the Army. I think they were called the Army because of his arm.

Anu joined us at the gate. She is my only friend. She is my study companion. For no reason, she cries every now and then. When she cries, I pat her head. She stops and smiles. She thinks I care. I don’t. I just can’t tolerate loud sounds. They pierce my ears. Balu sir knows this. If Anu cries for too long, he takes me to the adjacent room and gives me drawing sheets. He never gets upset when I make the sun green or the sky yellow. He lets me use any colour I want. He should be the God fellow. His arm is special, just like God fellow, with an elephant face and a mouse friend.

We had salads for lunch today. None of the students like it. I do. Not because of the taste. Because of the texture. Green. Leafy. Colourful. Crunchy. And the best part is it doesn’t taste like anything. Anu started crying again. I understand her pain. Crying is her way of saying she doesn’t like it. I usually keep everything inside. I don’t know how to say what I feel. I stopped trying. I just go with the flow until it crosses my tolerance limit. Then my tantrum comes.

> I don’t get angry because things don’t happen my way. I get angry because I’m not heard.

After some boring classes, it was time to go home. Dad was late, as usual. Balu sir and I sat on a couch and watched Peppa Pig while waiting for Dad. He took out a box from his bag. It had many crayons inside. So many colours. I think there were ten shades of green alone. He understands me. I don’t draw real things. I draw random shapes. Scribbles. But the colours calm me. Counting, multiplication, addition, and playing games with other children don’t make me happy. I like being alone. Watching things. Listening. Thinking.

Dad’s car arrived. Mom was with him. I ran and jumped into the car.

Mom said, “I have a surprise for you.”

She opened a basket. Inside was a small white puppy. He was very soft. He licked my face. I laughed. I was scared Mom would get angry, but she didn’t. She was smiling. I named him Snowy. On the way home, I looked around for Tippi. I wanted to show him Snowy. I wanted him to have a friend. When we reached, I looked near the staircase. Tipi wasn’t there. Mom called me from behind. I followed her, holding Snowy. But I was still scanning for Tippi.

I played with Snowy the whole evening. I showed him my drawings. We watched Peppa Pig on Dad’s laptop. He didn’t understand it, but I think he liked it. Dad brought a small bed for Snowy. After dinner, we went to sleep. Snowy slept near my bed.

I felt warm and sleepy. I could hear Mom and Dad talking while washing the dishes.

Mom said, “I hope it’s okay that we bought the puppy. I know it’s an additional expense. Maybe I’ll take a few tuition classes in the society and earn some more.”

Dad said, “No, no. It was very thoughtful. Did you see Kaushik’s smile? He’s so happy.”

They always try to keep me happy.

Mom said, “I’m glad you called the animal control people. Those street dogs were creating a scene. The mother dog was barking the whole afternoon. Finally, they’ve been taken away.”

A sudden pain twisted in my belly. Taken away? Tippi is gone. Why? He was a good friend. Was it because he was limping? Because he was dirty? Nobody bathes him. Of course he is dirty. He is a street dog. No one took him home like Snowy.

Why does everything have to be perfect?

We should have a home. I should make friends with other children. I should talk to others. Tippi should go away. Anu should eat salad. The sky should be blue.

> Why are there so many SHOULDs?

God fellow has an elephant head. We keep him in our house. We pray to him. But we never bring Tippi home. We never take Anu on family outings. We never invite the beggar uncle inside when it rains. Who made these rules? Who decided that everything has to be clean, correct, and the same?

I can’t pay attention. I can’t talk properly. I can’t play like other kids.

If I don’t do things the way everyone does, will they remove me too?

> God fellow made me different. Like he is.

My chest felt tight. My body wouldn’t listen. I screamed. I pulled my hair. Snowy woke up and barked.

Mom came running. Dad followed.

“He’s having an anxiety attack. Call Balu sir,” Mom said.