It has always been my hobby to just sit in the park near my house and enjoy the sunsets. There is something really beautiful about dusks that nobody else seems to notice. As for me, I can sense the sunsets, or maybe my biological clock is tuned to alarm me at that time. My sister is always surprised that I ask her at almost the same time daily to accompany me to the park without knowing the time. Ofcourse she does not understand that whatever I do is not affected by the way the tiny hands are oriented in the clock on the wall. I can hear it’s ticks when its utterly silent but I never look at it. I simply dont need to.
Today was something different. Something was about to happen. I could sense it. As I was trying to think about the possiblities of what might happen today, my sister came to me to wake me up in the evening herself and offered to take me to the park, very unlike her. Told you so! – I told my self. I prinked my self up as much I could manage and left my house for the park. Take the street to the left of the house, walk for about a minute, take a right turn and the park is right there. Its entrance has the revolving swing, where the little kids play all the time. I was in sixth class when I was hurt badly while playing with this. I never rode the swing ever since.
The park seemed the usual way. Nothing different. Nothing life changing. The aunts were gossiping in hushed tones, the kids were shouting, playing hide and seek, chasing each other, innocently challenging each other at every other turn. I smiled to myself. Sigh! I wish I could be like them. I sat at my usual place and inhaled the fresh air, enjoying the sounds around me. The birds chirped in the vast sky while flying back to their nests, working hard for the day. The air was still somewhat warm. The sun had not set completely till now.
As time went by, the coolness of night was overtaking the warmth of the day. The nights are no different for me than the day, I can sit here indefinitely but it is not the case for the people around me. They started returning to their homes and so I also prepared my self to return. Again as I was passing the swing at the entrance, I again thought of the accident which changed my life. I was disappointed, the reminiscence of the accident and the disappointment of nothing different happening mingled together as the day came to almost an end. Still gloomy, I left the swing, which was making creaking noise behind me, while revolving slowly. I suddenly bumped into a person. I came back to my senses. He was a boy, little taller than me. There was something about his aura, something different, finally! We exchanged sorries. I can surely tell that he has recently started coming to the park, and was somewhat of my age. I have, many a times, heard his voice among all other commotion in the park.
I was simply walking back to home, along with my sister, still trying to recognize what was about that boy that made him so distinct. Ah! It stuck to me as sudden as the impact with the boy. It was the way he smelt. It was unusual, pleasant-unusual.
I was happy, so full of joy that I actually saw a dream that night. I usually do not dream. But that day, I could even tell the different colours in the dream, actually make out the contours of lively things, even distinguish the scent of the boy from other smells. I have heard that you do not really see colourful dreams, its all in shades of gray, and can not even smell during the dream. Now I wonder if its really true. It obviously is not true, because I just had the amazing dream!
From the next day onwards, I followed the same routine. But I was not same anymore. As the boy passed me everyday in the park, I used to catch the scent of him lingering behind him. Soon, I found myself waiting to go to the park, wanting to smell him, more than to be there just to enjoy the sunset. I tried to figure out his voice among all the blurred voices around me. Tried to guess what he looks like. I had started to smile to myself, without any reason, just smile.
Life went on as usual. Why would it be different? My mum still cooks delicious food. My father still cracks stupid jokes at which we just cant help laughing a lot. My sister still cries everyday when I ask her to accompany me to the park. The small kids still play in the streets in the evening. But no one noticed that something in me had changed. I was happier than usual these days. Unusually happy.
It is Tuesday. My mum had given me the meethi boondi prasad just as I left for the park, which I simply love and always ask for more. Again I am sitting at my usual place in the park. For the past three days, the boy has not come to the park. I know because I have not caught his smell, neither his voice. I missed his smell. Time passed as I waited for that smell. It never came. Dejected, I with my sister headed back to home. While returning, my sister asked me to take a different route back to the house. “Why?” – I inquired. She told me that a truck was standing in the street which we take usually. “Oh!”
I returned home and asked my mum why was the truck there. She informed me that the family that had moved in a month ago was moving some where else. Something struck me. With a heavy feeling in my heart, I further inquired – “Is it the family with a boy of almost my age?” “Yes, why?” – she replied with a tone of surprise. “Nothing. Just asked.” My heart contracted, and then everything went blur. The food was tasteless. The jokes were not funny. The dreams that night were black and white, shades of gray, with a sorrow in them. Next day, as I passed the swing at the entrance of the park, the ghost of past again struck me. At this very swing, once I had lost my sight in an unfortunate accident, and again at this very swing, I had got a reason to live, a hope, a dream, and again, at this very swing, I have lost it even before I could get hold of it. The only thing I remember now is that pleasant smell..

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