Sasmit was born with a frown, contrary to what his name meant, ever smiling. So, he acquired a new name, Rotdu, crybaby, from his first friend Rupesh.
The parents had named him so in hopes that he would turn out to be a happy kid under the guidance of Bhola Pandit. Alas! Theirs and his disappointment with the world continued.
And it wasn’t for lack of trying.
His parents did everything they could when he was a kid. They tickled him till he cried instead of giggling, fed him all the tasty sweets, and bought colourful gifts to entertain him. But he rarely cracked a smile.
Thinking something was wrong with their dear boy, the trips to psychologists started. By the time Sasmit turned ten, he had been to every doctor in their city, licensed or not. They stopped after the incident when he came out of a session, and the couple peeked in to see the doctor crying in his seat. The clinic door was slammed on their faces, with warnings to never come back.
The parents didn’t give up. Bhola Pandit was called again. Charts were brought out from the bottom of Almirah, every planetary position was re-examined, and a solution was found.
The portly priest, who had a flair for dramatics, looked the young man of eleven in the eye and declared him cursed. Sasmit’s frown deepened at the smell of beetle nut coming from his mouth, but he kept his lips tightly pressed for the respect of the older man.
For seven days, the family of three sat around the Hawan kund that was to be burnt continuously. Pandit Ji came every morning and made offerings of ghee, flowers, puffed rice, red powder, and the continuous chants of holy mantras. Sasmit slept with his head on his mother’s lap for most of the pooja. He was only roused when the pandit had to put the red tilak on his forehead. His parents hung on every word uttered by the learned man.
In the end, when Sasmit still didn’t smile, Pandit Ji took his dakshina and left quietly. The boy was cursed. Only God could help him now. His mother cried that her son would never be happy, and his father raged about the injustice done to them.
Sasmit sat still. He didn’t understand why it was so important for his parents.
He was happy. He didn’t get the need to smile or laugh.
The next day, he practiced in front of the old mirror in his room. His mother yelled from the kitchen that he was getting late for the school bus.
He tried to turn his lips upward and show his teeth, as he had seen his friends do. He grimaced at the awkward look and decided he looked far better with his usual expression. He picked up the bag, and ran to the door to sit with his friends. He forgot the whole chapter in a day.
But, for his parents, the nightmare continued. There were whispers that someone had put an evil eye on the boy. After all, he was the prettiest boy among all his family members. His mother tied blessed threads around his wrists and regularly burnt lemon and chilies to ward off any negativity from her son.
Sasmit got used to all this. He didn’t mind and let his parents do whatever made them sigh in relief and hope for a better future.
Advice from relatives was heard and followed. No daily serials or news was put on television, only funny cartoons and shows. He was regularly taken to the circus, amusement parks, and movies. When the family tired, the friends took up the mantle. Once, at a comedy show, Rupesh swore he saw Sasmit crack a smile. Nobody believed him. No proof, no smile. A rule people around Sasmit took seriously.
There was a series of photographs, at birthdays, school picnics, family functions, graduation, and vacations, with Sasmit looking directly at the camera with his usual serious expression while everyone around him looked at him to see if he cracked a smile.
His favourite was the series of photographs where his wife was trying to make him smile by tickling him on their wedding day. When he didn’t, she laughed out loud and shook her head with a smile instead. He almost cracked a smile that day.
The photographer was excited to capture the rare moment. He had subtly asked not less than three guests if the groom was being forced into the marriage. Rupesh had laughed and patted him on the shoulder, “That’s just my friend.”
Sasmit lived peacefully, despite what everyone believed. His wife had accepted his quirk. It amused her, and they lived a normal life till the birth of their daughter.
Wary of the irony that played a game on her husband, she had decided to name her child Nakushi, if they were to be blessed with a girl.
After ten hours of labor and fifteen minutes of cleanup, Sasmit was finally let into the room where his wife held their daughter in her arms. She smiled at his serious face and turned her daughter to face him as he came around to her side.
Nakushi giggled at her father, making his wife cry out in joy as a wide smile broke out over Sasmit’s face.
The narrator voice in Bareilley ki Barfi movie was running through my mind while writing this piece. And my sister said it reminded her of Akshay Kumar’s Panoti character in Housefull movie.
Do you know someone like our dear Sasmit?
If you liked this, then I am sure you would love our
Loved it and the whole ‘desiness’ of it brought with it a feeling of home, thanks Isha 🙂
Beautiful story. Of course only a baby can have such an effect. 😊