In the early hours of morning, when the grass is still wet with the dew of the night before and the mud moist, I saw the impressions of two small little paws. The paw-prints of a young little kid early up from his bed. The imprints formed a track, with the kid definitely not walking with a pre-set destination in mind.
I let my eyes follow the trail. It went straight for a few yards, then slowly turned left, a few paces, a sharp turn right, another couple steps, a slight turn to right, a few paces… And it was not very long after when I spotted the kid himself.
He was sitting on the grass under a tree. The Sun had just crossed the horizon and the pond beside glistened with rays as the beings inside stirred to life. The kid had his legs stretched, and was peacefully plucking some blades of grass from between his knees. He then took one fleshy blade, and bit it between his pearly white teeth, and the succulence inside sprinkled forth into his mouth.
He was busy alone. All the while speaking to himself and to the inanimate things around. After a while he went to the pond and sat at its bank. He let a finger into the water and a wave of chill passed over his body and he gasped in pleasant cheer. Then he slowly let his legs inside, knee deep and beamed a big wonderful smile as he felt the chill lick against his skin.
The fishes inside did not, it seems, feel afraid. They started zooming around his legs and the kid started conversing with them. He put a few pebbles into the pond and the still surface split into lively ripples, each following the other in circles of increasing size. And at one time, as if by an impulse of enthusiasm, he put a big stone to form a big ripple and it fell in with a heavy sound that put him to giggle.
The ripples had set the lotus leaves afloat on the surface of the pond into a stroll. As one green leaf with beads of water drifted near within reach, the kid tried to catch hold of it. As he was about to clasp it in his palm, he saw something moving. He hesitated. Then he saw something again on the leaf move, but could not decide what it had been. Not bothering much he touched the big leaf, and just then a small but fat green frog which had been perching on the leaf all the while dived off. And the kid clapped in amazement.
With the heat of the day building, the fishes retreated to cooler bottoms. So bored alone our kid sets in search of things more interesting. He goes to the tree beside and sits under, resting his back against its trunk, leaning comfortably against a root of the big green tree that had grown over-ground.
He took up a rock and started drawing lines in the mud. He intersected the lines. Made circles. Squares. Triangles. Then he tried a free hand drawing of the fish he had seen. Having made one, he made a couple more to give the lonely fish some company. Satisfied, he then drew that leaf and tried to draw something which may resemble the frog. Slowly and slowly, as he kept scribbling, his scribbles, went from lines to figures then into bizarre and curvy caricatures as he slipped down and down and fell into a nice sleep.
I looked down at the wonderful kid, curled up, sleeping in the tree’s lap, under its soothing shade. A slick of his hair bent over his forehead as a breeze blew through. He was sleeping so content. I could see a calm smile on his lips all the while. It felt like the whole nature kept a natural quiet peppered with the occasional cooing of the birds and the diving of frogs into the pond beside.
I know not when that the sky started growing dim. The evening twilight. The kid slowly wakes up. He stretches his arms with his fist clenched and yawns a mighty yawn making a childish squeak. Then he stands up. He slowly dusts his pants and goes up to the pond. He looks in and beams a smile at his own reflection. Then he takes a palm full of water and splashes it against his face. He feels a slight rumble in his stomach and he then takes a palm full of water, slowly and carefully, trying not to spill them, to his lips, and tilts his head back and the palm up letting the water pour into his mouth. He has a couple more and then stands up.
He knows he must leave. He is afraid of dark, that gloomy part of the day that caps the beautiful day to close. Just as he waves the pond a longing goodbye he hears a flutter of wings. He jumps with joy. He sees a pair of birds fly past and make a big circle of the tree that he had slept under and they then settle upon a branch. He now notices a brown cosy nest. He had not seen it before. As the mama bird perches at the edge of the nest, cute little birdlings start squeaking and jumping about, pushing and bouncing against each other. The mama bird gives them a sweet caring look, that tells how much she loves them and how much she missed them all day.
Then she slowly brings out the worms she had stored in her crop and holds them out as the birdlings suck them in into their tummy. Our kid looks at it all and smiles. In his heart, at some little corner, he feels a patch moisten. A slick of tear forms on his eyes. His ramble seems not to cross the knot in his throat. He just looks on, longingly.
And finally as the forthcoming night urges him to retreat, he just brings his palms close and cups his mouth, like when someone tells something into others ears. And in an airy voice, the kid tells to the birdlings, “Your mother is so sweet. Don’t lose her, Ok!”. And then winks. And starts back on his jumpy gait homewards. Where he knows, food, bed and a heater to warm the room awaits. A heater to warm the room. Wish he had mom to warm his heart. Wish. Wish he had her…