It was that time of the day when the sun wanted to embrace you for the rest of the day. Some of its rays were peeping through a huge boundless tree. He was sitting there. He was reading a book. His face said that he liked the book. The sounds of birds and squirrels on the huge tree and the voices of children accompanied his excursion towards the next page. He was reading a book on travelling.
Travelling fascinated him. He loved to explore new places, new people, new cultures, new perspectives, new sounds, and new visions. His dream was to go on a world tour. His mother thought that it wasn’t possible. In fact she used to always laugh on him saying, “Why do you need to travel? It’ll be of no use.” His mother loved him a lot. She was very protective of him. He loved her too. His father had died 8 years ago in a car accident. He wasn’t a very loving person. He used to keep to himself most of the time. His father seemed like a person who had no dreams. He used to be awed by his father whenever he was around. Being their only child, contrary to perceptions, he had no responsibilities. He always used to paint himself as a free bird.
He liked painting too. He loved the fact that by holding a brush in your hands and smearing it with life of any colour, one could transform an empty sheet into a world of your own. Once, he had drawn a tower alongside a river and titled it ‘The Eiffel Tower- As I See It’. His mother was astonished to see such an accurate image of a place which she and her son hadn’t visited even once. One fine day, when both of them were sitting in the balcony and chatting about their neighbors and the weather, he decided to paint her picture. She initially was reluctant, but, later agreed for it. He told her to not to pose and do whatever she feels like. After an hour, when she saw the painting, she made a disagreeing face. She told him to draw a line at a point. He asked, “What was missing?” She replied, “A smile.”
He didn’t have many friends. He had tried to build some relationships, but most of the people were irresponsive. They thought he was a strange character. The reason behind that is that he is a dreamer. He loved to create dreams for himself, for his mother, for his father and for people he didn’t know. Dreams always seemed like a mystery story to him; or like an unlocked treasure box. He thought he had the key to that box. He thought he already knew the end to that mystery, whereas he’d never conceived a beginning. 2 years ago, on his father’s birthday, he was dreaming for him. A man who could have led a perfect life, only if he wouldn’t have been so engrossed in his thoughts that night. A man who could have seen his wife’s painting his son had made. A man who could have been a part of the future his son had often dreamed for him. A man who could have helped his son make friends.
He held the leaf in his hand which had grown out of the tree’s shadow and wanted to explore the world. He made the leaf his bookmark. He heard a familiar sound coming towards him. The occupant of that familiar sound was a friend of his, who he had met 5 years ago in a park like this, who did not find him strange, and who found solace in his company. He had always thought her to be a lonely child. She greeted him and asked him what he was doing. He said “nothing, just thinking about you.” She said in a surprised tone, “about me? What were you thinking about me?” He replied, “Well I was just thinking how I have been provided shelter throughout my life…by my mother…my father…by nature…by my dreams…and by you. I haven’t seen anything in the past 10 years. I can’t. But people around me have protected me and guided me. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” She said, “Yes, it is indeed.” And he continued reading the book. And she just stared at him, trying to seek shelter in him and his world.