Balu could not sleep, as the rain came down heavily outside his windows. The flashes of lightning lit up the room and the sparse furniture. He kept tossing and turning on his bed, while Viji slept peacefully on the other side. Balu envied her, as the sound of her deep breath filled the room. The thought of the loan he had taken and the amount loomed large on his mind and kept him awake.
He thought of the man who had called one week back and booked the room at the forest lodge. He was supposed to come today, and Balu had waited till night for him. With no news of the visitor, he had locked the rooms and started for home.
The forest lodge was an old establishment, and his father and grandfather were employed as caretakers at the old guest house. In the old days of the British Raj, it had served as a rest house for hunting parties, who would come from the town. After his father’s death, Balu had taken up the responsibility even though he considered himself an artist, and looked down on such jobs with contempt.
The meager salary which came every month ensured that his family did not go to bed hungry every night. With no hunting or hunting parties to cater to, the lodge slowly became a haven for people who wanted a break from their busy lives.
He slowly drifted off to sleep, making plans of getting the team together to practice for the big day. The date loomed large on the calendar by his bed, occasionally lit up by the lightning outside.