Based on a true story ....
The drops of rain relentlessly battered the glass windows & the tin roof, a constant symphony & cacophony alike. Water slowly seeping down made the world look slow & trippy, like the desert heat melting away & the sweet aroma of wet mud adding that phantasmagoria in him. Sat next to the window was he looking at the rain. The rain was wasting its time trying to ebb his thinking off his wandering fascination. If you traced a way through his lost eyes into his skull & inside that sticky, slimy grey matter you'd know that today was the day of happiness. A day he'd been waiting for all month. The day he'd get a glimpse of a different world, the day the letter would arrive.
He was quite young for his age, in the initial phases of adolescence. Incarcerated within high walls & more so within the strict rules of the residential school.. he was after all another dog in the manger. Life was as tough as it was exciting. It had been months since he'd been out of those high walls. The last time he'd jumped to watch a movie & he got caught. As a punishment, his head was shaved, his food rationed & all his leave cancelled for the whole year. The only salvation for him now would be a taste of the outside world.. a glimpse of his angel. Of his best friend who stayed very far away from him & yet strangely enough, was wandering in his heart & thoughts all day long. The helping hand when he'd lost a battle. The lending invisible shoulder when he felt asleep, the divine fingers that shut his eye every time a single tear dripped past his cheeks. She'd promised to write him like she did all the time & today was the day that letter would arrive. His thoughts were thus indeed elsewhere.
Through the window of his barracks, through the foggy glass & the pelting rain, he could make out the familiar brown shadow. Someone cycling down the road towards him. For once he knew that it would be postman chacha. Bursting with exuberism & excitement he bolted towards the entrance, only to find the school bully on the cycle with his letter in hand teasing him & cycling away at speed. It was then he ran, he ran in the rain dripping wet. His shoes & toes not caring about squishing any puddles or any frogs around. His heart racing faster than his fit of rage & his legs synchronising with his anger. He managed to catch up with the bully & he fought tooth & nail with the bully, punching, kicking, biting, scratching wherever possible. After a bitter battle of raining blow after blow & bruises all over his face he managed to win the battle while the bully fled.
As he looked down the road, the letter was shred to pieces by the bully & lying on the wet road scattered. He took his time, gathered each bit piece by piece. Took the letter & dressed it even before dressing his own wounds. It hurt like hell but yet he pieced the letter together like a jigsaw puzzle. Bit by bit joined by tape. The joy of reading that letter was far greater than the pain endured for possessing it. He smiled & tears streamed down his face, as relentlessly & as mercilessly as the rain.
The world outside is white & looks like a ghostly blanket in the glory of the moon's radiance. The tufts of snow slowly floating around the window sending me into a perpetual haze. It's a much better world now where everything's fair, where there is no wall to stop me or no rules to refrain me. In my hand is that devastated sheet of a letter. I can still smell the fragrance of her on it. Rivulets of tears are slowly streaming down my cheeks as mercilessly as the prevailing cold & snow, the memories cloud my head. I wonder whose invisible fingers will I see now.
