By Searching for the stars
One teaspoon coffee, 2 sugar cubes and a warm milk mixed and stirred together is the perfect milk coffee for a weather like this.
Gloomy clouds, blurry mountains, dusty roads and a hopeful day.
I saw a boy on a window staring at the pigeons that just flew past his balcony. He is my neighbor, a young nineteen-year old boy who is new in my city.
Messed hair he has, with a fluffy round face and a big round spectacles on his nose that is reflecting greenish color of a tree standing alone, naked without any leaves on it, on the river bank of Hanumante.
The river is also filled with garbage, filth and human secretion but has somehow, managed to flow slowly towards the east side where the moon is shining despite the daytime.
Everything looks silent except the street dogs that are running and playing with their little puppies. They are so happy while the boy looks contempt.
Today’s a fair day. There is no electricity in our locality at the moment but of course there are people in his house. Who worries as they all are up in their rooms and busy, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket rubbing their skin to skin. The windows are closed and the gas-heater is on. So, nobody cares if it is raining outside or there was an accident.
The boy, as I know so far is studious one. He seems to be breathing to envision the beauty of nature that holds calm and still.
Hey, look! He takes a paper as I gently watch his moves. He folds them half and rolls them over and again and without any further clues he turns that blank white paper in a paper aero plane. It is make of a blank empty sheet. Yet, that paper plane has a mission of its own. It has to fly on its own once it is pushed from the window.
I can see him looking at the paper plane and reflecting his life at it. He feels the hollowness in his life, a blank truth that has nothing to do with his thought and a voice that he doesn’t want to hear any more.
The voice that the society is pushing towards him. It’s trap actually. He realizes that his fate is same like that of the paper-plane. He knows and believes that he too is going to crash soon as the wind pushes him on the ground.
He doesn’t want to be that common boy who is ready to sacrifice his only life for the happiness of others. He is ready to stand on the ground, alone, and see what comes in the future for him once he questions for his rights to live young and free.
“Make a wish, the stars are coming out soon” He writes something on a paper and I assume he writes what I want him to.
He opens the window, inhales the coldest winds in his lungs and repeatedly blows the warmest breath he has on the front end of the plane. It is his ideology that if he doesn’t follow what he was taught and told, the plane would crash and no one would cry for it.
“Gosh! It is so difficult to act against the society. Is it a sin to break the social values trying to live a life of your own? It is a victory to turn hell into heaven” he thought. He turned his arms back, stretched them wide and long the distance beyond his comfort zone. And with the fullest hope he threw the plane as it glided in the air for some time before slowly it started searching for a tree or ground to crash on.
‘Ouch’- the pain he felt on his heart, he pressed his hands on his chest and prayed the lord for strengths so that he could overcome the social pressure and lived like a free man.
The plane glided straight down but the lord heard his voice. It was his hope that worked, he believed he could and he won a new life. The plane landed safely on the soil that was fertile to grow millions of hopes into a new plant.
I don’t know how but within a blink, the boy stood again, looked at the plane and smiled out his pain. He saw hope. He felt the stars were out again. The moon was shining bright.
He knew he won the battle. He got a life. He made a clever move and he is a free man now. Suddenly, he looked at my window, smiled at me and closed his window. Maybe he’s now waiting for the perfect tomorrow to live his life once again to the fullest.
But ironically, the next morning, I saw him with the same disappointed face. But this time, there seemed a new hope searching for the stars in the day time.
Yes, he won his fears, he created a history and today, I learnt to see hopes even when the coffee was cold and the man is boy no more.
Photo by Rakicevic Nenad
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