![]() A Short Story B L Dhar |
![]() As soon as I grew up a little, I dreamed to be just like Sachin Tendulkar and be the best batsman of my team. We had formed one in the housing society and I was playing for them one Sunday afternoon when my mom asked me to pray not to get hurt. And I usually got hurt playing cricket. It would either be the ball that would hit me or some crack friend would hit me with his bat when I would refuse to leave the crease after getting out. The umpiring would upset me. And she said pray to the man upstairs and he would grant me the wish. It was then that I learnt the old man was some magician who let you get what you wanted. And it complemented to what I heard as commonly spoken phrases like “ooperwale ki kripa hai” or the one “ooperwala bada meharbaan hai”, “ooperwala sabki sunta hai” and the best of these was “ooperwala sab ko deta hai”. But how can I pray to him, I don’t even see him or know how he looks like. She said you pray hard and consider he looks just like the one in the picture in our prayer room. She pointed out to Lord Krishna and I was thrilled to learn the man was not as old as I had imagined him to be. When I asked mom why he does not come and play with us since he looks so young and handsome, she said this picture of him was taken many years earlier and he is a bit older now. But why is his picture in our house when he does not even visit us once. At this mom cajoled me into believing that the man is a frequent visitor and it seems he comes at a time when either I am not home or I am just sleeping. Grow up man, I told myself. I will meet him some-day soon. It was my sixth birthday and Dad promised to bring a big cake that had dressings that would send everyone into shivers of excitement. My name would be written all over the cake. I had invited all my cricket buddies and school-mates and my cousins and there would be lots of gifts that I would receive. I would as well give away return gifts to all, that mom made me pack with my own hands. I had returned from school at about 4 in the afternoon and there was presently no sign of any guest around other than that of an old man whom I had not seen before, neither in my house nor in the vicinity. For some reason I believed this was the upstairs man and I was wondering how to address him when mom appeared from the kitchen and brought him a tray with some tea and cookies that she is fond of making herself. And why not, it was a good day today being my birthday. I wondered if it was the best time to make friends with him and ask for the special magical gift that he so often bestows to people who ask for it. I decided to cash in on this moment and pray to this old man before he leaves for his upstairs accommodation and ask him to give me that magical power to score more runs in the cricket match coming up on Sunday. He would oblige and after all the cookies he eats he should be more accommodative in his grace. I geared up to face him just when I was called by a friend to play outside and I gave it up for later, maybe. Childhood days are fun and enjoyable. The mind is open to receive all sorts of pains and pleasures that we have not known before. This makes the child’s mind a fertile ground for imagination. The aspect of belief stands prominently as an acceptable mannerism which the child nurtures along and it is the garnish in his life at this stage. He is ready to cash in on the treasures of life that unfold before him like the wrappings of a gift parcel. The child is only too eager to open all such gifts that life presents before him. I was no exception. I was a normal kid and my behavior was like any other with whom I was connected. So if I imagined this old visitor who had come into our house was the man who lives upstairs, then he better be that man, because I perceived him to be so. If it turns otherwise, I will only be disappointed. On my return home I found the man gone and when I asked mom if that was the man living upstairs she said no it was an old acquaintance. Today I am sixteen and over the years I have gained enough knowledge about the facts of life. To analyze anything and everything is the mantra of living a life. Be it the man who lives upstairs or anyone who comes into focus, the mind is capable to do the right kind of balancing. I have not met him so far and I am sure I will when I finally have a glimpse of his overpowering personality and divine power. I may be good in my studies and my sports and my interaction with my family and friends, but I am blank when it comes to having a moment alone with this upstairs man. I have recognized the malice in men when it comes to living a life deceptively and their interaction with him is purely commercial. I want to rise above that perimeter and be different in my approach. You may have the capability to score a century by adding years to life or on the cricket field adding to the total team score, scoring every single run is an onerous feat. You could do that by being a part of the society with a bunch of civilian attributes that includes having faith. I have faith in me and my family and friends and I continue to wait for the auspicious moment when I come face to face with this upstairs man. Even though I am constantly reminded that prayers alone will not bring him alive in my presence I am fully convinced that I will have to be a good batsman to attain that score where he will have no other option but to appear before me when I am ready and that will be the moment of triumph to have reached into his heart and see him as anyone would love to. He surely will take the steps to come forward then and not need the elevator. Author’s Note: I do not live in Dwarka, a suburb in Delhi, but the character of my narrative does. He is an affable young man who is talkative, athletic and has positive vibes of living a life king-size. |
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