From the eyes of a silent, invisible spectator, brushing through the pages in the Book of Time:
There he is!
Oh! Look at the bundle of joy. Look at the blessedness he brings to the family. Did the father want a girl-child, I know not. Did the elder child frown at him, I know not. What I look at is the glow in the parental eyes. What I look at is the world of good he does, henceforth. What I wish is that the world be at his feet, if he so desires. What I see is the tiny fingers and toes, the glow that he brings with himself, the way he looks at the world and the way the world looks at him, as the years pass by.
There he is! That’s him!
How adorable has he become. Don’t you just love the way time has left his innocence unscathed? Wretched are the souls that bully him. “You are too fat”, they said. “You’re funny”, they said. Oh! Leave him alone, will you? He’s just a boy. He’s just in school. What difference does it make? His first tryst with the world, and what did it do to him? They bullied him much. They made him pity. He did not want it. He did not deserve it. What am I to do now?
I see him make the face, each time. I see him fight back, each time. I know he can, I know he will. But why? He’s not to change himself for those wretches, is he? Ah! What do you know? He was hurt. He behaved otherwise. He gave away the fat, and a bit of his soul – the part which could interact, forgive. Neat barter, eh?
Before I know it, he was struck. Before he knew it, it left him with a mark.
There he is! I think.
There is a faint change though. He’s an adolescent, mind you. He interprets the world in his own eyes. Just like cattle that strays and grazes throughout, but finds its way home every evening to seek peace, so does he. Something’s wrong, I sense it.He lacks trust, whatever was left of it.Things have left him scarred. I sense betrayal. I sense disguise.I can see that his folks feel he’s astray. He doesn’t. Nor do I.
I can see people judge him. He can see it too.
It did not happen in a day. It’s been over a course of time. I don’t even know what happened. He’s seen death, maybe. He’s seen the ugly faces of people, has he? The murk that the world brings along. He’s seen it all. He’s judged it all. All figured in his head. He knows. He’s gotten sharper by the day. He seems to have seen evil in all that he has come across. He knows. How I wish he did not, but he does. It has been for good, one may reckon. It may be thought of as a part of growing old, eh. But I have seen the innocence. I have seen the unblemished trust, the faith, that I shall see no more. It feels different to see him now. He’s a better, smarter person, most definitely. He’s grown taller. Do I hear a sigh as the
curious eyes scan living objects. But something’s amiss. For the good. I guess, I hope. Yet, there shall be various times in future when I’d wish I could have protected him from this good.
There he is! That should be him.
But what do I see? He was believed astray. He proves them wrong. He attempted to align himself with the norms of the society. He’s attempting. Success played hard-to-get. He drew imaginary walls around him, all around him, in defense. He disguised himself as the guy who can manage, even when he was about to crack out open. “I’m not here,” he said, “this ain’t happening,” he said. I could hear him. I got worried. But I knew, he’ll do good. He worked his way towards it. And good he did. He managed to be the one who scaled equal, if not better, amongst the rest. From the evil that he had seen, he learnt to compete, he learnt logic, he learnt it all the hard way, but he did. When I look at him now, I feel, he’s seen good and evil: in proportions that he could handle, most times.
But look at him! He’s humble, intelligent and shall be successful too. He’s been rebuked so much that he thinks it’s no problem when others laugh at him anymore. He’s been scared and scarred by people much, he needs no one. The mistakes that he made have made him a planner. He knows what can go wrong, prepares for the worst and handles it with such ease. And that’s not even the best part. He’s been hurt so much, that nothing hurts anymore. He’s so controlled that he can tackle emotions and yet, he can communicate his mind. There are times I get a doubt that he knows what he wants. That be a
gift, mind you!
I can’t not feel proud when I see him thus. Was I a fool to worry? All virtues came to him, dabbed in vices. The boyhood was a steep price to pay. Yet, it was worth it. Partially, I don’t know him anymore.
But, well, it’s all good at the end, so they say.
There he is! Wait, is that him?
Is he even the boy I saw once? I can see the occasional twinkle, the rare spark of joy, beneath the solid crust of flesh and bones. Why, life gave him battles. Little did I know, he’d martyred a little bit of himself at each battle. I figure it’s pointless trying to find in the next pages. I wonder if I’d even be able to recognize him.
My heart beguiles, I know not why. And yet! I love him till I die.
There he is!
Oh! Look at the bundle of joy. Look at the blessedness he brings to the family. Did the father want a girl-child, I know not. Did the elder child frown at him, I know not. What I look at is the glow in the parental eyes. What I look at is the world of good he does, henceforth. What I wish is that the world be at his feet, if he so desires. What I see is the tiny fingers and toes, the glow that he brings with himself, the way he looks at the world and the way the world looks at him, as the years pass by.
There he is! That’s him!
How adorable has he become. Don’t you just love the way time has left his innocence unscathed? Wretched are the souls that bully him. “You are too fat”, they said. “You’re funny”, they said. Oh! Leave him alone, will you? He’s just a boy. He’s just in school. What difference does it make? His first tryst with the world, and what did it do to him? They bullied him much. They made him pity. He did not want it. He did not deserve it. What am I to do now?
I see him make the face, each time. I see him fight back, each time. I know he can, I know he will. But why? He’s not to change himself for those wretches, is he? Ah! What do you know? He was hurt. He behaved otherwise. He gave away the fat, and a bit of his soul – the part which could interact, forgive. Neat barter, eh?
Before I know it, he was struck. Before he knew it, it left him with a mark.
There he is! I think.
There is a faint change though. He’s an adolescent, mind you. He interprets the world in his own eyes. Just like cattle that strays and grazes throughout, but finds its way home every evening to seek peace, so does he. Something’s wrong, I sense it.He lacks trust, whatever was left of it.Things have left him scarred. I sense betrayal. I sense disguise.I can see that his folks feel he’s astray. He doesn’t. Nor do I.
I can see people judge him. He can see it too.
It did not happen in a day. It’s been over a course of time. I don’t even know what happened. He’s seen death, maybe. He’s seen the ugly faces of people, has he? The murk that the world brings along. He’s seen it all. He’s judged it all. All figured in his head. He knows. He’s gotten sharper by the day. He seems to have seen evil in all that he has come across. He knows. How I wish he did not, but he does. It has been for good, one may reckon. It may be thought of as a part of growing old, eh. But I have seen the innocence. I have seen the unblemished trust, the faith, that I shall see no more. It feels different to see him now. He’s a better, smarter person, most definitely. He’s grown taller. Do I hear a sigh as the
curious eyes scan living objects. But something’s amiss. For the good. I guess, I hope. Yet, there shall be various times in future when I’d wish I could have protected him from this good.
There he is! That should be him.
But what do I see? He was believed astray. He proves them wrong. He attempted to align himself with the norms of the society. He’s attempting. Success played hard-to-get. He drew imaginary walls around him, all around him, in defense. He disguised himself as the guy who can manage, even when he was about to crack out open. “I’m not here,” he said, “this ain’t happening,” he said. I could hear him. I got worried. But I knew, he’ll do good. He worked his way towards it. And good he did. He managed to be the one who scaled equal, if not better, amongst the rest. From the evil that he had seen, he learnt to compete, he learnt logic, he learnt it all the hard way, but he did. When I look at him now, I feel, he’s seen good and evil: in proportions that he could handle, most times.
But look at him! He’s humble, intelligent and shall be successful too. He’s been rebuked so much that he thinks it’s no problem when others laugh at him anymore. He’s been scared and scarred by people much, he needs no one. The mistakes that he made have made him a planner. He knows what can go wrong, prepares for the worst and handles it with such ease. And that’s not even the best part. He’s been hurt so much, that nothing hurts anymore. He’s so controlled that he can tackle emotions and yet, he can communicate his mind. There are times I get a doubt that he knows what he wants. That be a
gift, mind you!
I can’t not feel proud when I see him thus. Was I a fool to worry? All virtues came to him, dabbed in vices. The boyhood was a steep price to pay. Yet, it was worth it. Partially, I don’t know him anymore.
But, well, it’s all good at the end, so they say.
There he is! Wait, is that him?
Is he even the boy I saw once? I can see the occasional twinkle, the rare spark of joy, beneath the solid crust of flesh and bones. Why, life gave him battles. Little did I know, he’d martyred a little bit of himself at each battle. I figure it’s pointless trying to find in the next pages. I wonder if I’d even be able to recognize him.
My heart beguiles, I know not why. And yet! I love him till I die.
