RINGO  The YOGI &

RINGO The YOGI &

Prasun Roy

An imprint of Srishti Publishers & Distributors

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Srishti Publishers & Distributor Registered Office: N-16, C.R. Park New Delhi – 110 019 Corporate Office: 212A, Peacock Lane Shahpur Jat, New Delhi – 110 049 [email protected] First published by Srishti Publishers & Distributors in 2019 Copyright © Prasun Roy, 2019 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 This is a work of fiction. The characters, places, organisations and events described in this book are either a work of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, places, events, communities or organisations is purely coincidental.

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Publishers.

Dedicated to my beautiful children, Ekalavya and Ekantika. You are my biggest gifts from god.

Acknowledgements

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would take this opportunity to devote this book to all my teachers, who have shaped me into the person I am today and for making me fall in love with literature. Whatever I have been able to achieve today is because of your blessings. I take this opportunity to thank my entire family for being a constant support system in all my endeavours in life. I must mention the name of Brinda, my beloved wife, who has been a wonderful partner for me in love, life and work. Without your presence, I am always incomplete. Thanks to the team at The Book Bakers, one of the leading literary agencies in the country today, for believing in my work. I thank you for not only working as an agent for this book, but also for designing the wonderful cover and the Illustrations for it. Suhail Mathur, you are a wonderful person who has always bestowed your faith in this manuscript and all my works. I am blessed for being associated with you and your team. My sincere thanks to Stuti, my editor from Srishti Publishers, for her undeterred dedication in refining this manuscript to its best form. At last, I would like to thank Arup Bose from Srishti

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Publishers and the entire team for their personal commitment and expert touch in shaping out this story into a fine book. The story of Ringo and the Yogi is a tale of courage and inspiration on how every ordinary person can become extraordinary through resolution and faith. It is a story for readers of all ages and I sincerely hope that everybody will get a fulfilling experience on reading this book.

A Child’s Play

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t was a lazy April morning and the sun was just peeping over the horizon. The city of Kolkata and its residents were waking up for yet another mundane Wednesday. The thin rays of the rising sun peeped through the tree leaves and stealthily made their way through the white curtains of the window on the fourth floor of the east facing apartment of Anjali Enclave. The rays then quietly made their journey to the sleep ridden eyes of the little boy lying cozily on his bed beside the window. With extreme displeasure, the boy tried to drive away the unwelcome intervention and dug his face into the pillow. However, within moments, the intrusion was complete with a mild jerk by a soft hand on his shoulder. This final onslaught stole away his sleep and the little boy rose up reluctantly, opened his eyes with even more lack of enthusiasm and looked at his surroundings. The sudden jerk had brought him back into the harsh world of reality with a sheer abruptness. “Ringo, it’s almost a quarter to seven! Wake up son, or else you would be late for school,” spoke Meera in an apprehensive voice as she rushed away towards the kitchen. It was a full-fledged 1

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working day for her husband and her son, and she did not have a moment to relax at this prime hour. Being a housewife, Meera had the full-time duty of attending to all the necessities of her family, before she could relax and take a break. Little Ringo lived in this apartment on the fourth floor of Anjali Enclave, adjoining the Lansdowne Road in the southern part of Kolkata. He was the only child of Jagadish Banerjee and Meera Banerjee. Ringo was about to be ten years old and had recently been promoted to the fifth standard in school. Even though he was into a fresh new class and had received his new set of studybooks, Ringo could scarcely gather sufficient interest in them to encourage him to go to school. Ringo was almost five feet tall, was pretty thin, with a chestnut coloured skin complexion. His hair was cut short and his nails were nicely filed, courtesy his mother’s constant scrutiny. Ringo had large expressive eyes; a reflection that showed Ringo was quite intelligent but also mischievous by nature. Ringo jumped out of his bed in response to his mother’s alarm and rushed towards the bathroom. Within the next twenty minutes, Ringo accomplished the mammoth task of brushing his teeth, taking bath and getting dressed in school uniform. He then ran into the dining area and jumped onto the chair next to his father, who was reading the newspaper and sipping his tea. This was an important exercise for the avid businessman. He was a middle-aged man of medium built, a fair complexion and a round face. Looking at the clock, Jagadish noticed that it was 7:05 a.m. He smiled at little Ringo and said, “Good morning Ringo!” “Good morning Dad…” replied Ringo. He kept his reply short and focused his energies in guessing the probable menu of his upcoming breakfast. At his tender age, Ringo could never really

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figure out what his father’s profession was. He only understood that his father was a very busy man. Ringo missed his father’s company; he missed his father’s involvement with him. After this brief conversation, Jagadish went back to the newspaper, while Ringo stared at the kitchen door in anticipation of his arriving breakfast. A few moments later, Meera emerged out of the kitchen with some toast, an egg and a glass of milk and served them to her son. Ringo’s dreams of some delicious aloo parantha or grilled chicken sandwich got shattered by the vision of the food in front of his eyes, but there was no escape! Hence, Ringo began to gobble up his routine breakfast reluctantly, with a sardonic face. He knew that his mother was watching him. At the main entrance of the Anjali Enclave, Ringo met Rahul, his buddy in school, who lived in the same apartment building, on the second floor. The two young boys studied in the same school, belonged to the same section of the fifth standard and also travelled on the same school bus. Ringo smiled at his pal and spoke a few words with him, and as the two waited for the school bus, he wondered what Rahul might have been rewarded with, in breakfast that morning! However, he controlled his urge to ask this question directly. The young boys stood sweating under the hot April sun. At around 7:40 a.m., the school bus arrived, and Ringo and Rahul quickly boarded the vehicle. The bus then wheezed past the semi busy morning traffic and headed towards the DPL High School. The twenty-minute-long journey from his home to school was primarily a private time that Ringo preferred to use for daydreaming. As the bus crossed the high roads and made its way through the busy traffic, Ringo saw many people rushing to office and street food vendors selling different kinds

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of food for breakfast. Cars wheezed past their bus and the traffic policeman was trying his best to control the crazy scene that was unfolding with the passage of time. Ringo even saw a few streetside temples where a group of worshipers were praying with full dedication. He saw a group of young boys playing football on the adjoining footpath. Ringo tried to weave some imaginative story in his mind with all this. He tried to weave a thriller that had the traffic police, the street side temples, a villain in the disguise of one of the worshipers and some fabled superhero, similar to Captain Planet, who comes to the rescue of the city that was being attacked by the villain and his accomplices. Ringo’s eyes dozed off with the vision of this spectacular tale. However, the school bus reached its destination too quickly. Ringo reluctantly got up. He was a bit disappointed as his spectacular dream remained incomplete. The students alighted from the bus and made their way to the assembly hall on the ground floor of DPL High school. In the next ten minutes, the hall room was full with the students of all the classes and was buzzing with their chitchats. Unable to control the situation any further, the Principal roared at the top of his voice, “I WANT SILENCE!!” from his high position on top of the dais. Within seconds, a killing silence befell the entire room. The students got grounded by this mammoth warning from the supreme authority of the school and the prayer session got completed peacefully thereafter. The students obediently and quietly made their way to the respective classrooms, out of sheer fear of getting thrashed in front of the entire school. Ringo and Rahul went inside Section-A classroom of the fifthstandard, on the second floor of the huge heritage building. The

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class teacher arrived soon and took note of the attendance and began the day’s schedule. They had three classes before the lunch time, followed by two more. The intermediate hour-long lunch time was the most refreshing period that all the children anxiously looked forward to. Ringo was never very interested in the subjects that were taught in school, except some of the poems that he really enjoyed to read! He liked the poems because he found it interesting to memorize them in a rhythmic fashion. Ringo had already found his favourite place in the new classroom. It was the desk by the window, overlooking the playground. From this place, he enjoyed a fantastic view of the school garden with its colorful flowers, the little squirrels playing on the boundary walls and the chirping birds that took his imagination on a joyride to his world of fairytales. The class teacher observed that Ringo’s concentration was floating beyond the four walls of the classroom and she scolded him sternly, “Ringo! What are you looking at? Try to listen to what is being taught in the class!” “I am sorry ma’am. Please forgive me,” replied Ringo, in a scared voice. However, Ringo’s imagination rediscovered its path back to Alice’s wonderland and he stared blankly at the blackboard. The hands of the clock moved indolently and finally reached the favorite hour of all the students… the lunch time! As the teacher left the classroom, Ringo opened his lunch box with loads of enthusiasm and his heart lighted up on seeing the delicious chicken sandwich! He munched the sandwich happily and finished it off. He then went down to the playground for a little game of cricket with the other students. In the post-lunch class, Ringo felt sleepy, tired after the game of cricket and was almost unable to hold his heavy eyelids from

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shutting. He somehow managed to pull through the geography class, however the last class was that of mathematics and the numbers danced in front of his eyes like little bugs flying helterskelter in front of a bright light. The teacher’s voice echoed around the corners of the blurry image of the classroom and bounced on the walls of Ringo’s ears. Finally, at 3:30 p.m., the classes culminated and the entire school burst out in roars of joy! At this juncture, Ringo’s sleep vanished completely from his eyes and he packed his school bag and came running down to board the school bus. At around 4 p.m. Ringo returned home. Meera opened the door, took the heavy school bag from his shoulder and gave him some water. Meera tried to cheer up Ringo and said, “I have prepared one of your favorite dishes today! Come freshen up quickly and I will serve it for you…” Ringo took a quick shower and came out while Meera served him his favorite delicacy. After finishing his food, Ringo went inside his room, took a story book from his cupboard and sat on his bed. Ringo loved reading story books. Within his heart, Ringo desired the company of his parents and wished they spent more time with him. Ringo went to the sitting room and found his mother deeply engrossed in watching some daily soap on the television. He sat beside her and put down his head on her lap. Meera did not shift her sight from the television screen and put her hand on Ringo’s forehead. The little boy absorbed this small handful of love from his mother and fell asleep. He woke up on his mother’s pat after about an hour. Ringo knew it was time for completing his homework. He sat at his study table, opened a textbook and stared blankly at the letters

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printed on its pages. His mind became crowded with thoughts of an interesting event coming up in the next two weeks... It was his tenth birthday! Ringo wondered what he would do on that special day and contemplated upon the gifts he would be getting. He stargazed about the birthday cake that his parents were planning, which usually came as a surprise to him. Time passed quickly and at about 9 p.m., the doorbell rang. Ringo understood that his father had returned from work. Ringo wanted to talk to his father about the plans for his birthday, but looking at the weary figure of Jagadish, he sadly put the idea aside. At the dinner table, the family completed a quiet session of eating. Ringo hoped that his father would become a bit energized after his dinner, but nothing of the sort happened. Jagadish went off to sleep after his dinner; he was too exhausted after his day’s agenda. Ringo did not have any other option and thus went into his room. Meera followed him, gave him a goodnight kiss and went away too. Ringo sat blankly on his bed in the dim light of the night-lamp. He pulled out his favourite toy from under his bed. It was a doll of Baby Shiva, a little blue coloured stuffed doll that Ringo took with him to bed. It was his most prized possession. This subtle blue doll had been with Ringo from the time he was six years old. Ringo lovingly called it Bholu. This voiceless companion lacked the luster of other newer possessions of Ringo, yet it had a strange attachment with his soul that made it an inseparable part of his being. Every night, Ringo played with this doll, talked to it and gradually moved into the world of dreams. Bholu had the patience to listen to the innocent words in Ringo’s heart. Ringo wished to discuss his fancies with his parents, but in his solitude, the silent

Ringo has just turned ten, and is very excited to go on a trekking expedition organized by Bharat Scouts and Guides. During the expedition in Joshimath, Ringo befriends a Yogi, who tells him inspiring adventurous stories. Soon after, a catastrophic cloudburst causes devastating floods and landslides in the entire Uttarakhand. The only hope for the boys to return home is to seek help from a nearby Army base camp. Ringo & the Yogi brave the calamities through the mountains and try to reach the Army camp, finding a way through the dense and dangerous forest. Do they ultimately reach the Army base and inform them about the location of the trekking camp? Does destiny lead Ringo and the Yogi to victory?And most importantly, who is the mysterious Yogi? Prasun Roy lives with his family in Kolkata and writes stories in genres of adventure, mystery, thrill and young adult fiction. He is the Director of his family-owned business of pharmaceutical manufacturing and marketing. Professionally trained in western classical piano, he is also an active blogger. /prasun.roy.581

@PrasunRoy1981

@prasun.author.2018

ISBN 978-93-87022-62-1

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