Part-I - The Man
Few stars shone in the sky these days. Or nights. Almost as if they were scared of the world and only a few dared to peep from behind the great black curtain of the sky.
A man stood below a streetlight of a lonely road. The road actually lay below the same sky we were talking about. To any onlooker, this man seemed to be doing little apart from gazing intently at the sky. He hoped he�d have enough this month to be able to buy a packet of cigars or something, but he didn�t. So he contended with the sky and the stars. He was rather easily contended and didn�t miss what he didn�t have. He didn�t see the point of it, which is a good thing when one can�t afford too much.
He rather liked the lonely nights and empty streets. Perhaps because he preferred people when asleep more than awake. He usually had enough of �people� during day. His job was the typical nine-to-five jobs and not worth envy. But it did get him worn out. He found it quite relaxing to be with the stars than to be drowned in slumber. He found his beloved sky more within his reach than himself asleep. He didn�t appreciate the level of unconsciousness to which he went off to when asleep, so he slept rather less. To make up for it, he came on a nighttime stroll, something that he barely liked to miss.
Sometimes he walked on the streets even in the dead of the night, else sought refuge under a convenient streetlight. He noticed everything around him with a great deal of admiration. The moonlight seemed to double the splendor of everything he saw, the road, dry and exhausted with a long day under the scorching sun, the grass, the leaves, fading with the approach of autumn, the trees, the few buildings, and if they cared to be present, the clouds. Beyond the moon, too, he didn�t miss anything. He saw the stars, though diminished in number. He got a better view when he was in the countryside, but like everything else, he got used to it without complaints. He admired with heart and soul the sky, with no beginning and no end, whose vast expanse seemingly engulfed everything. He saw himself with the sky, and also saw his smallness and insignificance. He felt happy small and insignificant. At least his existence or otherwise made no difference to the universe, and that was something. It was no responsibility, of which, he felt, he had enough at the office.
Part 2 - Seema
Though this man�s primary interest as well as attention were the sky and everything it had, he couldn�t really help noticing things a bit closer home. And hence he couldn�t help noticing that two streetlights away, a girl had been sharing the company of stars, attending to the sky, and talking to the night. He thought very little of the girl. As a matter of fact, he rarely thought, partly because he was so full of admiration that there was hardly any room for thought, and partly because he didn�t consider it worthwhile to spend his time or energy over practices such as thinking. So though he thought very little of the girl, he thought, and that was something.
The next night saw the moon in full splendor, radiant and bright. Our man stood beside a bush, so he found he had a better view of things from there. He didn�t acknowledge the presence of the girl, even in his thought, so it was not likely that he should see her making way for the same bush under which he now stood. When she did reach the bush, before anything else, the lights went out. The streets, the grass, the trees, the homes, everything else were visible only in the silvery light of the moon. �Beautiful,� the girl whispered at the breathtaking sight that spread before her eyes. �Indeed,� the man answered in consent, though he was too entranced to inquire who spoke to him, and that what was spoken echoed his own thoughts was what really mattered. It was beautiful. He then looked at the girl who�d just spoke to him. She had charming eyes, he thought.
Before he could inform the girl about his opinion of her eyes, the lights came flickered back to resume their earlier status. The spell of the moment when the place was drowned in moonlight was broken, but the magic lingered, and dwelt upon both hearts whose eyes had witnessed and felt it.
She could have been eight or fifteen for all I know, the man thought. He was rather bad at judging ages, but he thought it was justifiable considering that he hardly had the chance of practicing the art. His intuition, as he liked to call it, told him that the girl must be alone and probably wanting help (in what context he didn�t know, but intuitions are always like that, he thought.). But instinct was hardly the same as knowledge, so he decided to confirm his.
�Your parents allow you to come out at this hour?� he asked, allowing himself to be responsible for breaking the silence between them.
�I don�t quite know. If they were here, they may have objected. But they�re not here, so what is the point of imagining what they would think if they were here?� came the quiet reply.
�True. It�s quite pointless imagining such things, but why are your parents not here?�
�Mother left me first. I was quite alone with my father. I loved father, and I think he loved me too. But one can�t help missing one�s mother. So I kept pestering him about where she�d gone, and he told me that she had gone to the other side of the world, and she�d bring back the teddy I had always wanted, but I don�t think I believe him.� She paused for breath.
�Why don�t you?� the man asked, not liking the course that the conversation had now taken.
�Well, she hardly moved, and� I know that even if she is really angry with me, she won�t leave me like that - without a word.� She blinked a tear that was beginning to form at the corner of her eye.
She never cried.
Plenty of pluck, the man thought. He found that he was thinking almost all the time since he talked to this girl, but got accustomed to it.
�Father left for war soon after, and even a letter hasn�t come back for two months. Maybe he went off the find his mother, and if he did, it�s well mean of him to leave me behind. The two months have been very trying. No fees to feed the school, and no rice to feed me,� she sighed.
So his intuition was confirmed, he wished it hadn�t been.
�Come home with me if you like, I can cook you some rice.�
�Can you do so for everyone who needs it?�
The man was clearly taken aback, and replied in the negative. �But,� he added, �you can come up if you like.�
Perhaps because of her groaning stomach, or because of her tired limbs, she agreed.
�Is there anything I can do for you?� she asked between mouthfuls of rice, with plain dal.
Amused, the man replied, �You could tell me your name for a start�
�Seema.�
�It�d be nice if you can come up at nights till your parents are home.�
She smiled.
As the days passed by, the man waited more eagerly for the nights than ever. Partly the sky, partly Seema, made the wait seem really long.
Part - 3 Their conversations
�When I was younger,� the man told Seema, �there were many more stars. Now there are very few of them.�
�They may have gone to the other end of the world,� said Seema, who apparently thought all lost people or things were at the �other end of the world�.
The stared at the utter simplicity of what she had said. He felt almost envious that he should lack that treasure of innocence.
�The stars can�t bear to see the sadness in your eyes, so they don�t come out,� he said, attempting his creativity. He told himself in a tone of sarcastic practicality, that the stars are hidden behind the clouds of smoke caused due to pollution.
One night, he found himself echoing the words of his favorite teacher in his younger days, and explained that �everything finds its end at its beginning�. When Seema stared, he elaborated, �See the water. It flows in the river, evaporates to the sky, forms clouds, and comes back to the river as rain.
The plant you see here will grow older, and fall down into the soil, and become one with it, and that�s where it originated.� He almost spoke to himself, forgetting about Seema.
�Do we have to grow older, and become one with the soil, like this plant?� Seema asked, curious.
�Essentially, yes.� The man continued, forgetting he was speaking to a child, who was probably an orphan. �The body is bound to decay. The stars also must die out some day,� he said half-jesting, half-musing. Seeing the shocked and concerned look on the girls� face, he was pulled back to earth. �Don�t worry,� he said, hoping to reassure the child, �one life of a star will amount to hundreds of generations on earth, you see,� She saw, only too well. �All the better, at least we won�t miss them or mourn them� she said quietly.
No distinctions are made between a child and a philosopher, because, like the latter, the former has an open mind, which thinks about basic questions more seriously than those who belong to neither category do. So it was with Seema, who thought about the simple matter of �if our body does decay, who are we whose body decays?� She felt her mother�s body may have decayed, but she told herself that she�d look for mother, with body or without. But right now she was sleepy, she thought more practically, and closed her eyes.
�She�s been there, I can feel her presence,� Seema concluded, when she�d told the man all about where her train of thoughts had landed her. �Her body,� she stressed, now for the second time, �may well have decayed on some end of the world, but to whom the body belong is right here,� she said, pointing towards her chest. The man raised his eyebrows. �Er.. That�s where my biology teacher told the heart is,� she said.
He laughed airily. After a while, he asked, �Do you feel your father too?� �I�m hoping his body hasn�t decayed,� she replied, turning away.
The old watchman had been watching to couple for quite some time now. He didn�t know English, but holding his torch he went to the man, who noticed his wrinkled face in the light of the torch, in a local dialect that the man understood (Seema didn�t) meaning, �You�ve got a wonderful daughter.�
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