A boy, a fish and thunder

It was during my term at the general clinic in a rural corner of our country (the place is of no consequence here and hence i purposefully forget its name) that i met Joseph. A measely kid of about 10,he didnt know his age.

I was in one of the worst phases of my life as i was finishing medical school.i felt rotten. not suprising for a divorced guy with half a dozen overdue bills to pay... not counting the fact that i owned a house no more... my 'ex-wife' got to keep it. she had a good lawyer.i would too if i had had the money to hire one to convince the court that i was being 'cheated' and left 'bankrupt'!!! well if you call having a pair of wealthy parents and owning a summer house besides a yacht as 'bankrupt' yep; she was bankrupt to the skin!..life was unfair alright... you bet it was... and i had every right to be bitter and grumble for all i cared. nobody was anybody to question me on that...

Joseph looked like any other kid there.. thin and emaciated. yet there was something about his eyes that drew me to him. it sparkled.he was dirty all over and had a ragged pair of shorts. no more. his eyes were the only clean thing on his face. i had no intention to be any kind of friend to him or for that matter to anyone at the time...i tolerated the kid;thats what i did. tolerated him.

he just showed up as i went on my rounds to the houses. he just sat by, hugging his knees as i examined or administered medicine to a patient. he listened as i spoke to them, mouth agape and lost to the world but for my voice.there were times when i spoke for him to hear.i had this notion that i was this really cool chap come down from the city and was glamorous and god-like to this street kid. so i just lived the part!

he knew he was different but he didnt know what to call it. rather, he did not know what We called it!

he knew every pebble by shape and he could explain how they were formed. he never had any kind of schooling... he could tell me the difference between the thorns of two rose bushes. i never knew they were different at all.to me thorns were just thorns. he spoke of the shapes of the rocks on the river banks as if they were alive... the rivers were not 'gurgling' to him. they were laughing...

if at any point of time my thoughts were distracted even for a moment, he could sense it. and he would be 'gone'... i could say nothing to get him back for me. he would start afresh when i was all ears again... my words futile. my actions were words to him.

he took me to his 'home' once. it was a tarpauline sheet supported by sticks against the stone wall of the orphanage.the orphanage was full. there was no place for him...they only fed him... stacked beneath a sheet here in his den was a set of cardboards, white ones and brown ones.it seemed trivial to keep them at all.

we watched kids play on the grounds from afar. he showed me how the dust rises when they kicked the ball. as the players moved on, his gaze would linger on the settling dust. he said if thunder had a form, it would be that cloud of dust. it came to life with a roar and subsided to nothing, as if it had never happened. as one player leapt up in the air to make a kick in the air, he talked about the time he had seen a tiger run up the hill on the village outskirts, after its prey. as we watched, there erupted a fight among the players,mainly two of them... a mongoose and a snake,each wanting to win... the weaker one for survival, the stronger one for pride and existence...

he described the motion and speed and grace of the players.there was wonder in his eyes,in his voice. how do they do it!? he was actually saying (in our language-we simplify things down so easily!).. isnt it awesome?glorious?

for him, nothing was unexplained. there was a reason for anything in life.everything was beautiful...vivid... the Creator was unparalleled in Glory, according to him. he did not preach any of this. he practised...

once as we sat by the river at the end of my(our) workday a fish got washed-in, near the bank.nothing new about that but before it could be taken back by the receding waters,he grabbed the flapping fish.it was quite large and was one of those species that can be out of water for a longer period.there was a serious deep slash across its belly... i dont remember learning or reading how to stitch a wounded fish anywhere in my medical books but i did just that. i did it when i saw the confidence he had in me. he did not ask or even look at me. just placed it before me... no, dont ask me if that fish is still alive. it seemed fine when we put it back.. thats all i know. perhaps it became a legend in the fish world or something...

i left the village after our assignment was completed in the same non-commital state i had gone there.thats what i thought but back in the city i knew i was not really the same. i had lost my bitterness.my humour was back in place and i smiled to myself as i jogged the same path...
perhaps the embers had not died down within me... that fire within us that believes in the wonder and goodness of life could still be kindled.

and so against all reason, i made back to that village one day, to meet the 'cool,glamourous and god-like' chap... he was not there. no, he had not died but was adopted.seems he was on the adoption list at the orphanage.i felt happy for him and wondered how soon it would take for them to recognise his special gifts.

life has not changed like a dream for me. but i have. recently i held this exhibition of my paintings.it took people a good deal of explanation to understand why i had named one 'thunder' and so on...

they ask me... why have i titled them "Asthma"...

words cannot do justice to the beauty and purpose of harsh truth sometimes...sometimes, just sometimes,there is a superior language...