Lemonade
Tags: Lemonade, Short Story, Summer, Discrimination, Indian Stories

Mahesh was the best when it came to climbing trees during Hide and Seek. He jumped on the compound wall and leaped onto the tall Asoka tree, clinging onto its strong leaves and quickly disappeared under them. The other kids were hiding too, one behind a thick bush of Jasmine, one on the Sapota tree, one waiting behind a wall ready to signal when the Seeker was in sight, and the others elsewhere, all in the same compound. The game was about to begin, while everyone waited patiently not to get caught or seen first. The Sun shone bright in the sky, but they could not care less. Not getting caught was more important than getting a tan. The Seeker had his own plan, as he entered the compound from the back, where no one expected him. He casually walked with the pride of cracking their masterplan, as he called out each of their names, chuckling all the way. To everyone’s expectation, Mahesh was again the last one to get caught, the expert that he was.

Meanwhile, their grandma, the owner of the house, announced that fresh lemonade was being served. A call they were waiting for. Hide and Seek did not matter anymore, neither did the fear of being exposed to the Seeker. Everyone forgot about the game and rushed to the verandah, to wash lemonade down their parched throats. They ran with bright eyes, those of a farmer who looks up at the dark, thundering clouds just before a heavy rainfall drenches his dried fields. They all held their glass tumblers and sat on the verandah, sipping on the fresh hit of balanced lemon juice mixed with water, not too much sugar and not too sour. The one that hits you like a refreshing splash of water on your face when you come back home covered in dust after a tiring summer day. The kids joked about whose glass had more, because they were the grandma’s favourite. They were lost in their own world, until one of them noticed Mahesh, the maid’s son, standing aside, playing with an Asoka leaf.

“Oh Mahesh, why aren’t you drinking this nectar of life?” one of them cried, while the others seconded her opinion.

“I am grateful, but I am fine,” Mahesh responded, sporting his innocent, toothless smile. The harsh reality of oppression hidden deep inside his heart, invisible to the human eye, like how he hid among the Asoka leaves.

“He is the maid’s son,” their grandma echoed from the back, “I will give him some water.”

“But, he is the best among us,” the kids sang in unison. “And he has to taste this lemonade.”

“You don’t understand,” their grandma argued. “Finish your lemonade and give me your empty glasses.”

The kids looked at each other, their thoughts aligning for the first time. This was a rare moment, for never would they agree on anything. It was a war to even decide whether Cartoon Network was to be watched, or Jetix. But, the time had come to put their differences to rest. One of them quickly downed his entire glass of lemonade and placed it on the verandah, while the others filled it to the brim, pouring lemonade from their glasses. Before their grandma could react, the kids pulled a shocked Mahesh closer, and handed him the glass.

“Drink this…” they demanded, “…or we are not friends anymore!”

“We know you hide on the Asoka tree, we just don’t know which one,” someone else declared, patting his back.

“God save these children!” their grandma cursed under her breath, accepting defeat while walking back into the house, as Mahesh reluctantly sipped from the glass. His heart was filled with new hope, as he decided to find a new place to hide. He did not need the Asoka tree anymore.

Childhood had triumphed over discrimination, and the first revolution had been a success.