My unforgotten hero

That was my birthday in 1990. My brother was yet to be born in a few days. My mother, heavy with her three-and-half kilo still-to-be-born, took me to the local market called Bally Bazar. She wanted to gift me something precious before I was given a soft living chubby brother. Till then I was fascinated with the Doordarshan telecast of He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, a popular cartoon among the children of eighties. The highest point of charm was the good-looking prince Adam who made himself the mighty He-Man when he was attacked by his ferocious enemy, the Skeletor. I liked He-Man's style of holding the sword up and pronouncing aloud "I am the master of the universe". A magical light flashed on his body and the muscular He-Man came out of the charming prince. Though I never wanted to be like him, I tried to imitate his style of changing himself to a hero, but in private.

Perhaps my glance fell on the He-Man in the display box of a local doll shop. I expressed my desire to get it on the next birthday. Maa agreed and this time she bought it for me at 65 rupees. Don't think it was an ordinary gift! Back in 1990, that amount equalled to a cloth bag full of vegetables and atleast two varieties of fish for a Sunday lunch.

The doll was endowed with four accessories -- an axe, a sword, a shield and an armour that surrounded his chest. All those could be taken out and put on him again. His hands could move up and down, his waist could twist, and his legs could move in one direction. It was so fascinating that I had nothing more to expect or explore in life. Often my cousin who had reputation for breaking dolls and cars wished to play with my doll. He always ignored my displeasure and grabbed it in front of my angry eyes. I was irritated, but couldn't speak a word. We were taught how to share things with cousins without a quarrel or cry. I was scared that my doll's accessories would be lost or stolen. But the He-Man protected himself from all my worries. He remained as stout and beautiful as he was on the first day.

As my brother grew up, he also enrolled himself in the list of my doll's fans. But I never allowed him to hold it for too long. I made every effort to keep my mighty man heathy and unfractured with least touch of others. When we moved from our old house to the new house built by my parents, the doll made a move with me. By that time I was at the exit door of my higher secondary school, and forgot the art of playing with it. But I gave him an honourable place in the showcase of our living room. When I was not at home, my brother sometimes took it out and made it his companion for a few hours. However, my mother made sure that it was not hurt. In reality the doll was so stout that it was difficult to make any harm to him. But there was always a danger of losing his armour and weapons.

Years passed. The doll migrated to the first-floor showcase when our house was made two-storey. One day I graduated from the university and was prepared for another move -- to a place where I would be offered a job. The departure time came sooner than later. I packed my suitcase and boarded a train to Delhi leaving behind the doll who I had loved once.

However, the story did not end here. On one of the trips to my native place, I noticed the sad face of my He-Man that was watching me in distress. I immediately knew that he missed me through these years. How could I forget my playmate while dwelling in another city? I unlocked the showcase, and put him in my travel bag. He would be staying with me. By this time, I was gifted with another living doll -- my daughter! She was just a toddler to handle a hero at her age.

At the house in Delhi, the He-Man wasn't allowed to stand with the other items of display. I kept him inside a cardboard box. Perhaps I became over-protective of him. But, that made him sleep inside the darkness of a prison. Who will make him free from my demonic capture? One day my talkative five-year daughter was searching for a sketchpen that fell off her hand. She bent down to find it under her bed. But she came out with a cardboard box. "Baba, what's there inside?", she asked. She didn't wait for my answer and opened the lid easily. "This is such a wonderful doll. I never had a man doll before. Have you brought it for me as my birthday gift? What's his name, Baba?" I was confused with an array of questions. Her mother chuckled, "His name is He-Man. When your Baba was a little boy, he used to play with this doll." The little one looked at my face and asked, "Baba, can I play with your doll? Please.... please tell me yes. Please allow me, Baba. It's a splendid doll. I want it." My answer came slowly, "When it was mine, I was like you. Now it's yours, and you're the one who will take care of it, right?" Someone from inside uttered, "The mighty prince has finally found his princess after three decades. He no longer needs me."