HOPE.
The music was playing on its beat. The
twisted bones of the greatest dancer were moving themselves as he continued
dancing. The air-conditioned room reeked with his sweat. The globules of his
sweat hit the floor randomly. His shoes screeched as the sweat went under it.
His lips moved as the beat went. His facial expression changed by every second.
He put his hand on his face and down fell his sweat. The dance studio was
filled with music. The guy hoarded all of his talent and opened the curtains
for it. The clock hit dawn late. He never got tired. He switched the light off
and put himself down for cooling his overheated body down. His body was all out
as the mirror was itself going to sweat soon. He got up and welled up was all
of his muscles. He put the keys around his bag and flew off there.
He went down and opened his simple and
empty wallet. There were only a few 10 rupee notes. He grabbed few of them out
and left the old woman in the street with them. She just blessed him. And there
he was smiling, despite the bare wallet, despite the competition. And, despite
the failures.
He had no watch to check the time. The
road still plugged some people. He
caught a share auto and had to sit in the edge of it as people kept getting in.
But, he never gave up.
The following days, he
continued doing the same.
But one unfortunate day,
he finished his practice and was about to get into the same clumsy share auto
when,
He came to know that he
had died. His whole role model in his life had gasped for breath and at last
gave up. The bag he had in his hand fell with a thud as he heard it from his
sister. The whole black sky was disapproving him. His dad was going to be inside
a coffin now. He got onto the vehicle and was not responding to any of their
questions. His sister was dropping her tears on the other side. He was not
ready to face it. He was contented dancing the whole day, just dancing. The typical
memories of his dad from his childhood flashed in his mind. The man he never
talked to, the man he never cherished, the man he never wanted to spend time
with, was lying emotionless. He wanted to do everything now. He wanted to whisper
into those wrinkled ears of that old man that he had changed his life.
He entered his house silently.
The whole house was in utter silence. The ravelled mind of his was all blank
now. The corpse was making people realize their real inner meanings. His dance
moves had no life now.
He circled 3 times around
his dad, his dad covered in planks of wood. He never cried. He never frowned.
He never mourned. All he did was, realize. The bitter guilty feeling inside
that life now was ebbing himself away slowly. The smile totally faded away. The
legs had no life now. The music was all alone.
He was a dog left alone in
a busy road. He was a dog beaten up and thrown to the passage. He was not there
anymore. He never spoke then. The old woman’s blessings were not worth he
thought. But, he never regretted giving her money.
The next day, he stayed in
his room. He was supposed to be in the studio. People never searched for him,
there. His smiling nature never made people probe for him. They came as they
used to and they went as they used to. He was hysterical. The rituals were
taking place but he never thought of anything else, but about the realization.
The time he failed in math and his dad reported to the principal reflected in
front of his eyes. He remembered his dad being silent all the while to his
home, that day. He thought and thought and thought. Dad.
He entered the
air-conditioned room again. The rose he planted had bloomed. The day had no
coffee for him in it but he went on. He came back from being a wallflower to
being a flower. The smile flourished slowly and steadily. He threw in his bag
the tears he had bought and energised himself with “him.” The music started and
he was nowhere in the frame. The tears, now, flowed out. The drops of sweat
were the drops of tears now. He started. The legs slowly untangled themselves.
The muscles slowly turned into hope from being a massacre. He wanted. And he
did. Again, fell the tears and sweat. And, by the time he left the studio,
there was only sweat on his face.
The old woman had hope for
him again. The old woman had another 10 rupees now but he did not want
blessings. He wanted life.
And the bigger and bigger
studios, he had enchanted. His dad was still there. He was lost. Meaningless.
