The Red Jar

It was dark, and it was raining cats and dogs outside. Inside, a software engineer adjusted his thick pair of glasses, at the edge of his nose, which reflected the codes from his laptop screen. Lightning glared at a distance, water droplets lashed at the glass frames and the only other person on the floor stood from his seat to leave the office. The man walked towards him and said, “Hey dude! Not leaving today?” Anoop without raising his head said, “No man, waiting for the rains to stop. Good night!”

Anoop loved coding as much as he hated getting wet in the rain. As a rapper would let out words, he typed his codes; he had been the best coder for his company twice consecutively. It was just last ides of February, when he had ridden a bike to a distant town, hiked up to the top, booked a calm hut at the top and designed an app all by himself. He had submitted that for the national contest and was selected as the final fifty. The results were yet to be announced.

At that moment, his mobile glowed – it was his mother calling. He disconnected the call. It had been days he had had a deep conversation with his friends or family. Lost in the adventures of his life he had forgotten his mother’s hug, father’s concern and friends’ support. He would think that he had enough time for all those and it was now to become successful.

Another lightning, it was somewhere nearby and the whole floor was lit. The rain had subsided a bit, but it was still drizzling. It was not rainy season, probably some storm miles away in the ocean he had thought, about an hour back. He stretched himself in the movable chair – arms forward almost touching the webcam of the laptop, legs to the other end of the table, chest outward as the air moved in and head tilted back as much as possible. Startled, he rose up. It had looked like a figure but was nothing there; he glanced at his watch and it was close to midnight. He moved towards that direction with doubts on his mind. He found that it was an abandoned Christmas tree in the corner. He sighed and turned around, yelled and thud! down he fell. A young boy was staring at him. He crawled back until his back met a wall. The boy came close, smiled and said, “Do not fear Anoop, let me share something with you.” He desperately wanted to say no and run for the door, but his head betrays him and nodded yes. The boy’s face lit up; he extended his right hand forward and said, “Stand up sir, walk with me.” Anoop stood, looked at the boy and then his tiny hands. The hand was rough for a boy of his age and they took a step forward.

The foot felt cold and the ground felt soft as the foot hit the ground. Soon the sensation covered all other parts of the body. I couldn’t believe what I saw, I left the boy’s hand, swept my palm over my eyes, looked behind and still nothing changed. A gust of wind almost covered the sunset at the distance and birds hurried their way home. The palm trees dangled near a water body and a young boy walked carefree amongst many sheep. I was momentarily lost in the beauty of the moment and then I questioned the boy, “where are we?”

The boy seemed at home, ran as if he knew I would follow him. I ran behind him and I could feel the childhood in me blossom; I felt contented. The boy stopped at a bend which led to a maze of brick houses. The wind made its presence felt by occasionally sweeping away the street dust. He held my hand again; we went past through the lively conversations, small markets spread on the floor, temporarily lost sheep and children running with their kites and rings. As we approached a half-mended wall the lights started glowing all around. The boy ran inside the house pulling me along. A warm environment enveloped the surrounding. The boy hugged his parents; his old parents and three elder siblings welcomed me while three of his younger siblings gathered around in delight. I was a bit embarrassed that I had nothing to give them but soon realized my circumstances. Meanwhile, the food was served cooked on wooded flame; I hadn’t tasted such delicious food for a while. Once we were done with dinner we spent some time with the family and headed for a hill nearby; the little boy had an extra interest that we spent the night up there. We took an old dilapidated motorcycle and raced it to the hilltop. The dust followed us till the top; riding under the stars in silence was an experience second to none.

Once we reached the hilltop a well-lit hut captured my eyes. We entered inside the hut and two well-made bed awaited us with a water jar at the bedside table. I took the jar and gulped down the water, streams tracing a path down my jaws and wetting my Friday casuals. I banged the jar at the table victorious as a warrior celebrating. Satisfied, I looked out of the window, the boy was sitting at the edge of a rock clenching his knees close to his heart. I went out and sat beside the boy. The settlements below looked peaceful and gradually one by one the lights fainted. The blanket of sleep slowly pulled over the entire area. After a moment we were alone under the starry sky.

Out of a blue, a deafening noise approached the area; it was a jet and in no time a blinding light of mushroom cloud formed before us followed by a loud bang and cries of horror. We were pushed back by the force of the blast. Pulling us up we went to the edge to find the village below in flames; the boy’s face was still with no signs of emotion, but his shivering body and clenched fist told another story. We rode back to the village: people crying, sheep and human roasted side by side, houses crumbled to dust unrecognizable and bloodstreams finding its way to the lake. Somehow, we reached the boy’s house: the body, belonging to the tiny fingers feeling a doll, crushed under a wall; the old man holding two daughters crying and the old dead woman protecting someone on her lap moistened my eyed. I looked at the boy; he was dying inside as if you someone has just uncovered his painful wound. I moved closer to the woman and on the lap was the little boy who was with me the whole time, asleep forever. I looked at the boy beside me, he said, “what was my mistake?”. He lifted his right arm, I held it and next moment Anoop was lying near his laptop. Key printed on his cheek and tears flowing to meet his cheekbones. The rain had stopped, he shut the laptop, pushed it inside the bag and carried to return home. But wait, what was that on the table, a jar half filled with water…