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Leaving Sarah

Literature & Fiction | 22 Chapters

Author: June Mendez

5.54 K Views

The fading lights of the departing train force Josephine Trent out of the shadows…She could barely stifle the scream that rose to her throat as waves of self-loathing, relief and pain threatened to smother her. Her actions leave her in a state of shock and disbelief, as the image of her baby being snatched out of her hands manifested itself before her eyes. This desperate step sets off a chain of events that would plunge their lives into an aby....

I

Of Farewells and New Beginnings

Goodbyes are toxic. They eat into your mind, crippling your spirit, leaving you an empty shell of unfulfilled promises - of things that could have been. Goodbyes are lethal. They tear at your soul, ripping out the last shred of sanity, sometimes driving you beyond the edge of reason.

Josephine Trent was on the brink of insanity, just a hair’s breadth away from falling over the edge. As she elbowed her way through the frenzied crowds at the station, she was spared another attack of conscience. The noise, the chatter, and the harried travellers, invaded all aspects of her being, stealing the right to her own thoughts. She clutched tightly at the baby in her arms, as the crowds that pushed and shoved to get ahead, propelled her forward, against her will.

The chaos at the station was in tandem with the chaos in her head. Guilt, disgust, regret, and acceptance ricocheted in her mind, confusing her with the severity of each emotion. This was perfect in a sense, as the confusion in her mind quelled the forces that could so easily turn her around, and undo all the effort that it had taken to get her here.

She was here for a purpose, here to let go, to part with a piece of herself.

Wheeeee……!”

The sound of the whistle, and all hell broke loose. A clamour at the windows, people rushing to the train, shouts of “Mama, don’t leave me!” sobs and cries rent the air!

This was a scene that had played itself out so many times, year after year. It was nothing unusual. The date was another, the people different, but the setting just the same. It was also the scene that heralded the beginning of a new academic year with the departure of the ‘New Party’ from Sealdah station - a new batch of students leaving for a boarding school far, far away!

Parents jostled with each other for one last glimpse of a loved one, whilst bewildered children rushed to the windows, uncertainty writ large on faces streaming with tears.

“Children! Please remain in your seats!”

“Come on away from the window. Move aside, let the gentleman through. Will you listen?”

The agitated voice of the schoolmaster could be heard, as he desperately tried to get their attention.

Now however, was not the time to listen! How could the train leave without one last attempt! Hope against hope that someone would be moved - innocent, pleading eyes, holding onto a last glimmer of hope.

A lone figure merged into the shadows at a safe distance from the crowd, observing all that was going on, desperate to go close, but afraid to do so. She wanted to scream out in pain, but somehow managed to clutch onto the last thread of sanity. How she wished she could just get on that train and undo what she had done!

The train’s signal almost pulled her from the shadows, but a pair of frail hands held her back. Now was not the time, she had to be strong, had to hold it together till the train was gone!

A loud whistle, a strong rush of air, and the train slowly pulled out of the station with parents and relatives running alongside, keeping pace with it.

“I’ll come and see you soon darling.”

“Don’t forget to open the balchow first.”

“I’ll write as soon as I go home.”

“We’ll miss you. Bye!”

Last minute instructions, and then crying, touching, blowing kisses, and waving as the train gathered speed, and was soon out of their reach.

Josephine stood watching till the lights of the train were just a speck in the distance, and then she slumped to the floor, drained by everything that had transpired. She was glad that things had gone smoothly, but was shattered by the implications of her actions. Had she done the right thing?

The pain was so unbearable, another scream rose in her throat, but she stifled it. Would it help? Change things? She pulled herself together. What was done, was done. This is how it had to be – life had to go on!

As the train gained momentum, the cries in the compartment reached a crescendo.

“I want my Mummy!”

“Please I beg you, stop the train and let me go home.”

“My daddy doesn’t know where I am.”

“Please, Uncle, why won’t you listen to us?”

John Smiley was immune to these cries and pleas – he had been escorting the New Party for a decade now, so he knew what to expect. It was always best to leave them alone for a while, till the older children took charge and comforted the younger ones.

The oldest this year was just twelve, while most of the others were below five. Last year it had been much easier with an older group of children. This trip was not going to be easy!

“Okay, okay, settle down. Now I want all the older children to take charge of a little one. Yes, yes. Samantha? This is Lucy. Keep her near you. Shh… shh… enough crying!”

Mr. Smiley was terrible at comforting little children. He succeeded in making them cry with his stern look, but was lost when it came to soothing them. His empathy could be likened to a grizzly taking charge of a little puppy, desperate to provide comfort, but more intimidating than anything else with its awkward efforts.

When Shakespeare penned his famous line, “What’s in a name?” it had clearly not been meant for a character like John Smiley. There was nothing remotely ‘smiley’ or happy about his countenance! The grey beard, and bushy eyebrows that stood out so prominently, gave him a stern ape-like appearance. An enormous belly, now replaced the solid muscular frame he once boasted, and although he had a slight stoop, his enormity seemed to fill the whole compartment. He was a man not to be trifled with.

His wife on the other hand, was usually able to get around the little ones with songs and stories. When Sylvia Smiley began singing, Lucy peeked out from behind the doll she was clutching, her little face blackened by her tears. At two, she was the youngest of the lot, a tiny little apparition whose growth had been arrested by malnutrition. She had spent herself crying, and now sat quietly as the train rushed on into the dark night.

Melissa was still crying, the angry wailing had been reduced to quiet sobs. She could not understand the cruelty of her mother’s actions. She had not left her side in these three years and had even accompanied her to work! How could mama do this? She had always tried to be a good girl, so why was mama sending her away? Boarding schools were for naughty children, or so she had heard.

The different faces in the compartment, some still crying, others lost in thought, uncertain, all apprehensive; each face had a story to tell. These were not the faces of the elite being sent away to some posh boarding school, but were the products of disturbed lives, of harsh realities, abuse, alcoholism, and despair – the faces of the selected few! The lucky few, being given a new lease, after battling the misfortunes of circumstance!

The train sped on, eating up the miles, bringing them closer to an unknown destination. They all had a vague idea of where they were headed. It had been mentioned several times during the interviews. Some place in the hills – a boarding school called The Abode. A strange name no doubt for a school, but the name had been deliberately chosen for the school, which had been fashioned on the likes of a tiny village, to create a home away from home.

All Ryan knew was that it was going to be quite cold where he was going.

“You’ll have nice pink cheeks the next time I see you,” was what his mother had said.

He hoped it snowed there in the winter. He had never seen snow – that would definitely be something to look forward to!

It was over two hours since the train had left Calcutta, and a quiet calm had descended on bogey no. 2. The wails and sobs had died down, replaced by occasional sniffles. Most of the children had fallen asleep.

The Smileys felt a little relaxed now. A child might wake in the night, but the rest of the journey was usually quite uneventful. The clickety, clack, clickety clack of the train, lulled Mr. Smiley back in time to when he had first escorted the New Party.

He was quite apprehensive about handling such a momentous task, but had accepted it on his wife’s insistence. The extra money that they would be paid to do the job was something that he could not pass up since they had needed the money at the time. His mother had been through a rather expensive surgery, which had drained his finances. Although looking after a bunch of wailing, screaming children was not his idea of an extra buck, and by no means an easy feat, he had agreed.

The lack of adequate donations that year had not made his task any easier. They had been forced to travel by third class, which was an experience in itself. The third class had been horribly dirty. He unconsciously scratched his face, thinking about the bugs that had bothered them throughout the journey. The memory of rocking and rolling on those hard wooden bunks sent a sharp pain up his back!

What a sight the children had been in the morning! Hair tousled, faces blackened by the soot emitting from the engine, they looked like a bunch of chimney sweeps! Looking back on that time, brought a rare smile to John Smiley’s face.

Mary Pots had been the youngest in that lot. Just three years old, she had had a temper that was so fiery he had felt sore when her tantrums were over! He pictured her now, kicking and screaming on the floor. She had been quite something!

Since then the journeys had not been all that bad. Apart from his wife, another houseparent also accompanied them, which made the task much easier.

Sylvia Smiley had mastered the knack of getting around the children. She was a soft-spoken woman who seemed to have a way with children as well as adults. She was the perfect foil to her husband. No matter what the situation, Mr. Smiley had never seen her lose her poise. She dealt with everyone in the same manner as she would a child. Her voice was so soft, at times one had to strain to catch what she was saying.

If her quiet cajoling did not work with the children, one shout from
Mr. Smiley was enough to numb them into silence! There was no mistaking his deep baritone, which could be singled out in a room full of people.

It had stood him in good stead as the P.T master.

“Waaah! Waaaah!”

The desperate cry of a baby cut through his thoughts. Was he imagining things?

“Waaaaah!”

There it was again; much louder and more demanding this time. He looked over at his wife. She looked as startled as he was. They could not possibly hear the sound of a baby in another bogey, could they? He knew there were no babies in this one. He had taken a quick recce of the other compartments once the children had settled in, to ascertain who the other passengers were.

“Put the light on Sylvia.”

Mr. Smiley and his wife looked around the compartment, but there was no sign of a baby there. The cries had become more frantic, more desperate!

He checked the next compartment thoroughly. From the increased volume of the cries, he knew the baby was definitely in this one. The berths at the bottom were occupied by sleeping children so it was highly unlikely a baby would be amongst them. He checked his berth at the top. The sound was emanating from a bundle of clothes, quite like the dhobi’s bundle at the corner of the bunk. He gingerly brought it down.

The sight of a red faced, screaming little baby in the midst of all the clothes so startled him; he almost dropped the load in his hands! Had he really seen a tiny infant? He looked again.

The baby was quite small, hardly six months old. There was a tag around her wrist, which said ‘Sarah Jane.’ A little note was attached to the tag, which simply stated:

Due to unavoidable circumstances I cannot look after this child anymore so I am entrusting her to the care of The Abode. Please don’t abandon her! Signed, Josephine Trent.”

There was even a signed court order, granting the school the temporary custody of the child. A bottle of milk, and a few nappies, were also rolled up beside her. The child’s mother had thought of everything.

Mr. Smiley wondered when the child’s mother had managed to sneak the baby in, and how the infant had gone unnoticed for so long. The big man was at a loss for what to do. His face seemed to be frozen into a big question mark!

“It would be best to report the matter to someone in authority,” said Sylvia. “Get the right opinion.”

The question mark immediately vanished, to be replaced by palpable relief. Yes, that would be the right thing. They would know what to do.

Like a man on a mission, he all but galloped in search of the Ticket Collector.

The baby’s cries had woken some of the children, but they had been shushed back to sleep by Mrs. Smiley. Samantha however, kept watching. She was reminded of the baby sister she had left back home. How she missed her!

Sylvia looked at the tiny infant in her hands. How could a mother leave such a little one? The cries were getting more desperate! The child had to be cleaned and fed. This would not be easy. John and Sylvia did not have children of their own so she had never had to change nappies, or even handled a baby for that matter.

She got down to task ahead, but the child would not lie still. She put the bottle in her mouth, but the little one’s cries grew even louder. What was she to do?

“Can I help Aunty?” She turned to look at the little girl standing beside her. Samantha was only ten, but already matured beyond her years.

“I’ve often had to do it when Tina and I’ve been home alone.” She told her.

Sylvia decided to let her have a go. She did not seem to have a choice with the child bawling her head off at her very touch.

Samantha picked up the baby.

“Careful! Careful!” Sylvia cautioned, afraid the baby might be too heavy for the little girl to hold.

The sweet singing voice of a young girl soon filled the whole compartment. Samantha put the child on her lap and rocked her till the bawling had ceased. She then put the bottle gently into the baby’s mouth, and handed her back to Mrs. Smiley to do the rest.

Sylvia Smiley was dumbfounded; she had never seen anything like it. She looked over at Samantha still watching the baby, with a sad, distant look on her face. Over the years, so many stories had played themselves out on the faces of the little ones that she was escorting to school. Most of them had been tragic stories of abuse and neglect. Sylvia was certain that Samantha’s story was no different!

John Smiley had by now returned with the ticket collector in tow. After a lengthy discussion, it was decided that the child should stay with the school party. Since there was an accompanying court order with the baby, it would be best for the school authorities to take whatever action was necessary.

The ticket collector had been pleased to see the court order. Stopping at a nearby station to report and complete the formalities of reporting a tiny stowaway aboard his train, would have been too tiresome. Who knows what would have happened to the baby after that! There would be fewer hassles for him and the child if the school authorities took over the problem.

With the matter thus settled, Mr. Smiley decided to retire for the night. He hoped the baby would have a peaceful night. What a trip this was turning out to be!

The night passed without further event. The baby woke twice during the night but went back to sleep without much fuss, after being fed and changed. Perhaps the motion of the train kept her peaceful.

Mr. Smiley was up by six the next morning. The first thing he had to do was to try and get some milk for the baby. He wished he could find some way to sterilise the baby’s bottle, but at this juncture, there wasn’t much anybody could do.

His wife was awake too. She had hardly slept the night with the thought of the tiny infant beside her. She was afraid that she might accidently crush the baby if she fell into a deep sleep.

The train was on time so it would be another two hours before they reached New Jalpaiguri. They would then be transported by bus for the remaining journey up to Khalebhung.

Chai! Chai garam chai!”

The loud nasal tones of the hawkers could awaken the dead from their slumber! Mr. Smiley was just thinking of getting the children up, when the matter was taken out of his hands by the army of hawkers that descended upon their bogey with offers of tea and breakfast.

The morning was almost as bad as the night, with the hawkers trying to outdo each other with their shouts of “chai” and “sandwich,” the little ones waking to find themselves in a strange place, and the littlest one bawling her head off for want of attention. It was a scene that would drive any normal person beyond the edge of reason, but not Mr. Smiley. Through all the commotion, he just bustled about from one compartment to the other, to make sure everyone was okay. He could not afford to be ruffled after having taken on such a huge responsibility.

The train finally pulled into NJP (as the station was called) and was immediately attacked by a riot of red. Coolies jumped onto the train, arguing and jostling with each other for a prize catch, passengers began moving towards the doors with their luggage, whilst relatives on the platform peeked in at the windows, issuing unwarranted advice to those inside. The scene of a train pulling into its final destination was always chaotic!

“Children, please just sit where you are!”

Mr. Smiley was unfazed by all this chaos. In fact, he was quite relieved that they were finally here. The next part of the journey would not be all that easy, but it would be shorter.

“I take saab, I take whole lot, you give us five hundred rupees.”

Nahi saab, me four hundred rupees.”

Mr. Smiley did not like this part – the haggling and bargaining for someone to transport the luggage, but it had to be done.

When everything was finally settled and the luggage unloaded, the children were allowed to alight. Lucy clung to Samantha’s hand. She had found comfort in Samantha who had been with her all morning.

Melissa did not want to speak to anyone. In fact, she had not spoken all morning. All she longed for was the comforting warmth of her mother. She had been so used to waking up beside mama and being fussed over till it was time for breakfast, she could not comprehend what she was supposed to do.

“I want my mama!” she wailed to a sea of baffled expressions.

The trauma of the previous nights’ separation seemed to have sapped the energy out of all of them. They meekly followed instructions and were soon paired off and taken to the waiting bus. Within fifteen minutes, they were finally on their way.

Sylvia gingerly cradled the youngest one in her lap. She hoped the motion of the bus would have the same effect as the train. She had found it extremely difficult, carrying a baby through the jostling crowds to the waiting bus, and was quite relieved once all the children were settled.

Ryan peered out of the window. He could see shops and cycle rickshaws as the bus moved along. It was quite similar to what he had seen in Calcutta, frenzied crowds everywhere. A little urchin smiled at him from the sidewalk, perhaps wishing he could trade places with him.

As soon as they were out of the city limits, the landscape began to change. A sea of green now replaced the dull grey buildings of the city. Trees aligned both sides of the road that seemed to stretch endlessly before them.

A few kilometres down the road, after a little climb, Ryan caught his first glimpse of a river. With the sighting of the river, the road began to slope and the plains were left behind. As the river started getting bigger, the road got narrower and the slopes steeper.

Ryan strained his neck to take it all in.

He had lived all the four years of his life in a crowded lane just off Ripon Street. All the greenery he had ever been exposed to was at the zoo! This was an entirely new experience for him. He had never seen anything like it, or breathed air that was so fresh.

“Monkey! Monkey!”

The excited shouts brought the children to life. Most of them had begun to doze off, but now they were all wide awake. There were several monkeys sitting on both sides of the road. The driver slowed down so that the children could get a closer look at the monkeys.

The bus could not wait long on the narrow road, which was just wide enough to accommodate two vehicles. On the one side was a high mountain, and on the other was a sheer drop into the rushing Teesta River below. The green waters of the river looked rather menacing – rushing and crashing into strategically placed boulders.

Ryan wondered if there were any fish in the water.

They seemed to be going round in circles, with the narrow road turning and twisting up the steep sides of the mountain. The winding road was beginning to have its effect on some of the children. A few of them began to throw up.

Ryan did not seem to suffer from travel sickness or fatigue. His eyes were glued to the beautiful scenes unfolding before his eyes. He wished he could go out and just lift his face up to the wonderful air!

Samantha looked out too. She did not see the scenery or even notice the river. Clutching Lucy’s hand in her own, she wondered what Tina was doing. Would she recognize her when she returned? Had mummy gone to work? What about daddy? Would he be sober or yelling in his usual drunken manner? She hoped he would not be too harsh on Tina, now that she was not around to take care of her. She held onto Lucy’s hand even tighter.

Lucy had fallen asleep, some of the uncertainty laid to rest now that she had found Samantha. She was still too young to comprehend much. All that mattered to her was human comfort!

The hundred-kilometre journey from NJP would take almost four hours to cover, as the bus would have to go extremely slow on the treacherous road, which had gained notoriety for the number of lives that it had claimed. The narrow road that twisted and turned blindly around the mountainous terrain was also prone to landslides, so drivers had to be doubly careful.

The bus made one stop at Teesta village so that the children could go out and relieve themselves. It was not much further from here – just about twenty kilometres. Once over the bridge, it would be a steep climb to the top.

Samantha drifted in and out of sleep. The strange motion of the bus suddenly woke her. One minute they seemed to be going up and the next down. She looked out of the window and froze. They were going over a bridge that looked so unstable, she was afraid the bus might fall into the swirling waters below.

The Teesta Bridge evoked a lot of fear in Sylvia too. The suspension bridge, which hung so precariously over the water, looked like it would snap at any time. The original bridge had been washed away a few years ago by devastating floods, and the army had constructed the new bridge to connect Khalebhung to the rest of the country.

Sylvia never failed to say the ‘Lord’s Prayer' whenever they were going over the bridge! She was quite relieved that the baby was still asleep. In fact, Sarah slept so peacefully in the folds of the shawl that she was wrapped in, Sylvia found herself checking every now and then to see if the baby was breathing.

The trauma of having a baby thrust into her arms was telling on her, and she could not wait to hand over the little one to someone more capable.

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II

The Refuge

“Welcome to Khalebhung!” read the signboard.

The churning waters of the Teesta were now far behind as the road merged into a new canvas of diverse colours. Green wooded hills, adorned with the pink of cherry blossoms, interspersed with a myriad of other hues, swam in and out of focus, as the bus trundled up hill. For these children who had never seen such splendour, each turn the bus took was a revelation, and the gasps and exclamations were testimony to their appreciation of the surroundings.

John Smiley loved Khalebhung. He had been sucked into the vortex of its beauty on his first visit, and was entrapped forever. The infinite stretches of green, studded with the colour of the season, the tall fir trees, the little rivulets that meandered along beside the terraced fields, and the weather beaten faces of the old villagers, trudging up and down the hill with baskets on their backs, was a familiarity he hoped he would never have to be severed from. Every trip that he made to the city or the plains was a reluctant journey that he was forced to take.

“Wow!! Look at that!” squealed Ryan.

The majesty of the Kanchenjunga range seemed to invade all corners of the bus as its beauty was captured and reflected in the dazzled stares and excited chatter of the children.

“Lucy look, look that’s what snow looks like!”

All of them stared in awe at something they had only imagined or seen in the pages of a magazine.

Sylvia was pleased to see that the Kanchenjunga had brought Samantha back to life. Apart from the time when she had taken charge of the little baby in the train, there seemed to be absolutely no emotion from her. Looking at the radiance emanating from the little girl, Sylvia felt a lump rise in her throat. If only life had been a little kinder to these children!

The hillsides were soon dotted with cosy little houses, infused with colours of red, from the poinsettias, which were still in full bloom. The school children called them ‘the going home day flowers,’ as they appeared just before the long winter holidays. It was the end of the season so the flowers would soon disappear to be replaced by the next flowers in season. Many species of flowers grew wild in Khalebhung to ensure that it was picture perfect all year round.

The snow-capped peaks of the Kanchenjunga range formed the perfect backdrop to the town whose surroundings constantly changed with the seasons. Khalebhung had an allure of its own. There was an old world charm to the quaint little town, which time had not dented.

Like any other hill station, life moved at a very leisurely pace.

Once the bus touched down in Khalebhung, the children’s curiosity had reached a fever pitch. The little ones strained their necks to catch a glimpse of the world outside the bus. Everyone wanted to look out of the windows, and some even stood in the aisle to get a closer look. After all, this was going to be home for quite a few of them. Some like Lucy and Kevin would not be leaving The Abode, even for holidays.

Ryan wondered what the school would be like. Ever since he had been told that he could get lost in its huge environs, he had conjured up various images in his mind. He wondered which image would fit. He did not have to wait long to find out.

As the bus continued its journey up the hill, almost three kilometres from the town, he suddenly saw a huge playground almost as big as the maidan near the Victoria Memorial. His eyes lit up. His mother had often taken him to the maidan on a Sunday morning, to play or watch a match in progress. He loved being out in the open space, to be able to run about with no fear. He could not wait to run around on the playground that he had spotted.

When the bus took the turn a little further up the road, they passed a grey stone wall with a white gate. He wondered if the gate led into a garden. The bus had already taken the turn so he could not make out what lay beyond the gate. He was to later learn that it was the Garden of Remembrance – the school cemetery where the founder and his wife had been laid to rest.

The Abode had been started by a Scottish Missionary to provide a home and education to less fortunate Anglo Indian children. Moved by the plight of these children on the tea estates around Khalebhung, he started The Abode as a refuge for them. Rather than build just another school, he envisioned a children’s village where children would be housed, and taught everything from academics to farming and tailoring. His dream was gradually realised over a period of time with the help of donations and funds from various organisations.

The vast school, spread over five hundred acres of land, overlooked the little town of Khalebhung. There were no high walls or fences to mark the boundaries like other boarding schools. Instead, the place had the feel of a little township with ample space for everything, including a hospital, a farm and bakery. White walls and bright red roofs blended into the green of the hillsides from the cosy cottages hidden between rows of trees, in which the children were housed. Perched on one of the higher points of Khalebhung, the shroud of mist that surrounded the school all year round, made it a home in the clouds.

Much had changed since the inception of the school. It was no longer exclusively for orphaned or Anglo Indian children since it had not been possible to continue running such a large institution exclusively on charitable lines. About twenty five percent of the student population was still under sponsorship, but a larger number of students were full fee paying students from affluent backgrounds. Although the founder’s vision was still kept alive, the finances were balanced by taking in full fee boarders too.

The New Party, consisted of poor Anglo Indian children from Calcutta, who had been selected after a round of interviews. Every year, the principal and other members of the board would deliberate upon the choice of children who would make it to the school. It was not an easy task trying to determine which child was in greater need. The school could only take in about
twenty-five new sponsored children every year as it was becoming increasingly difficult to find sponsors.

Samantha’s curiosity had finally overcome her sullenness and with dazzled eyes, she looked out of the window of the moving vehicle. She read the names of each cottage with great interest as the bus continued its journey. Samantha wished that she could get down and walk around, but there would be plenty of time for that. She would have months on her hands to explore everything.

The bus eventually came to a stop outside the building that housed the Headmaster’s office. Mr. Smiley hurriedly alighted from the bus and went in search of the principal, Mr. Stuart Hilton.

When he saw Mr. Hilton, waiting a few feet away, John heaved a sigh of relief. His mind had been in a whirl since the discovery of the baby on the train, and he was more than glad to hand over the responsibility to someone else. Mr. Hilton listened attentively to him as he narrated the events of the previous night on the train. His brow creased into a frown, and for a moment he looked a bit perplexed, but his face immediately cleared and he came over to the bus.

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Literature & Fiction | 22 Chapters

Author: June Mendez

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Leaving Sarah

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