Butterfly and a stupid boy

Butterfly and a Stupid boy

25^th July ,2000

Dear Diary,

I am feeling a bit nervous today. I roamed a lot and found no one to share my story with. It was consuming me inside. I am sorry mate for I overlooked you. I just didn’t know how honest I could be when I would write my mind out. I have nowhere to go now. I have no one else to share my secrets. I am absolutely sure that you would keep my story safe in your pages, wrapped in the sturdy leather jacket of yours. You know I was never meant to be very vocal for any reason, but the first time when I saw him I was out of my mind. He was wearing denim jeans which were little torn out at the bottom. It might be a fashion though. He had this wonderful bright Yellow tee-shirt that I loved which complimented his bright face. His big shiny eyes were very attractive in general, but one thing hit me like a raging meteor, that he was catching butterflies at my lawn. He was holding a typical insect catching net in his hand and jumping around like a mad cat on the couch. I came out of my house and stood in front of him. He was undeterred. As if it seemed, I was non-existing.

‘Hey! Why are you killing them?’, I shouted my throat out.‘I am just practicing’, He replied without looking at me.‘What do you mean?’, I demanded the reason sharply.

‘Go back to the place where you came from’, he replied with almost an impossible rude tone.

‘Mama see what is going on here!’, I had no option rather calling someone who could teach him a lesson.

After a minute or so she came out. She was surprised to see that I was shouting. The stupid boy continued chasing butterflies. Finally, he captured a blue Monarch in its trap.

I pushed mom and showed her what exactly was bothering me.

Mom was also surprised by his behavior, and just when she was about to open her mouth, the butterfly was freed by him.

‘What? Mom, he must have done it intentionally. He might have seen you!’, I insisted her to say something, but suddenly everything changed. He came forward and wished mom himself.

‘ Hello Aunty,I am Saren. We have just moved in. I am your new neighbor. I was practicing my reflexes. You know I have my first inter-school Baseball tournament next month. So I was just practicing’, he was surprisingly very organized when he talked. He seemed entirely different when he expressed his thoughts.

I stared at him and added: ‘ So why didn’t you try someone to through at you? Why did you torture them?’

‘ You are very sweet’, his response was absolutely unexpected. He smiled at my mom and went back to his home the very next door.

I continued looking at him as long as he could be seen before he was lost behind the front door of his house.

Mom called me in and that was how I met him.

It was his first day in school. I was going to have my lunch with my gang, that’s when he dropped by for the first time in school. He joined us and shared meals. We laughed a lot and that’s how we finally became friends. It didn’t take much to understand each other. He was always very full of repertoire and he always wore an infectious smile on his face.

He was a good chap to hang out with. He came to our house with his parents that night. We had a great time together. I loved the moment when I showed him my room.

When I brought him inside the low lit room, my organized book-shelves were in a poetic order, which kept more music discs and dolls than books. He looked around and found everything very neat and organized. He was specifically attracted by the wall hangings and my handcrafts. He wanted to see all my works but then again, parents called us down. He had to leave that night.

‘ Hey, Gal! I would show you something tomorrow. Keep a place for me next to you on the Bus’, he smiled and wished me a good night.

He was very excited in the morning. On our way to school, he showed me his sketchbook. I was quite surprised by his sketching. He was really good. He had this natural ability to charm with his stupid statements in the middle of serious conversation.

‘Wow! Have your thought of giving it a try in school’s competitions?’, I asked.

‘Girl, I was a born winner. That’s why I don’t compete. You know for last hundreds of years I have been a champion?’, he replied with his tone of irony and made me mad again.

I was infuriated and didn’t talk with him. I thought this is not right to always have fun in between serious conversation. I didn’t talk with him at all during class hours.

Our next conversation was during recess, and it was very eventful.

‘ Hey hero, I am sorry. I should have not made fun of your emotion’, he apologizes in a manner that I never expected.

‘It’s alright. Don’t do it again’, I replied.

‘Okay, Bossy Bossy ! Now your Biryani is mine’, he snatched my lunch box and sat just next to me. He irritated me a lot.

‘ look at our Mr pitcher. He has found friends in girls. Where you want to be, on the pith or on the sideline with her?’, Vicky came from nowhere and tried to bully him.

‘See Vicky, it is none of your business. You move on’, I tried to fix it but by then Saren got everything in his hand.

Both of them started fighting like amateur dogs on the street. Teachers came in to intervene. I was very much angry again for not only by the way he behaved but also for the fact that I was dragged into the Principal’s office for no good reason.

Vicky involved me also saying that I was abusive. Saren stood firm on his ground. He explained what exactly happened. Ultimately both of them were put on detention. I was left with a warning.

I was very upset and on my way back home I didn’t talk to him at all. He didn’t attend the school the very next day.

In the evening when I was listening to some music it dawned at me that he saved me from being humiliated and acted as a shield against everyone.

I owed him an apology. When I entered his house I heard the soft notes of a piano coming from somewhere inside. ‘He was not feeling good today. Now he is practicing’, Aunty said and left for the kitchen.

It was 17:30. I saw the falling Sunlight hitting the piano keys and his tender fingers gently moving across the board. I was nearly hypnotized by his performance.

Then he saw me and stopped playing. He smiled and said: ‘See, I was not right that’s why I could not reach school. I am sorry about yesterday.’

I was not going to ask anything at all except listening to his music. I smiled at him and then we talked for some time. Then suddenly he started feeling a little low so I had to leave him. Every time I saw him I found something new in him. My mom informed that he came again and practiced catching butterflies when he didn’t go to school.

I was not angry at that time. Now that I knew him I knew what he was doing.

He came to school after two days. After the morning drill and his on-field practice, he joined us in the literature class.

‘Hey Girl, I have already got your birthday gift’, he whispered into my ears in between the lecture hours.

I was surprised to know how did he know about my birthday? None the less I smiled and thanked softly.

After the class, he said that he found it from my slam book which he read someday back. I was irritated again for I was very sure he read many other things for sure.

‘Hey girl, I won’t have much time after this week. So I got your gift early so that I won’t forget’, he happily explained and went away with his friends for the final evening practice.

It was 19:00 when mom came to me and said Saren was not good again. He was taken to the hospital from the school.

I ran straight to his house. Uncle opened the door. He was talking about some tests and all. When I reached him he was lying on a bed with his mom by him.

I went close to him. He smiled but it seemed he was going through a lot of pain inside. His eyes looked a bit dull and he looked very tired for the first time. Aunty was very calm. I asked about his health.

‘I just had too much today. You know I was pitching just about good every time. Mr. Dylan said I could be his front line pitcher in the leagues. Can you believe it’, he still carried on speaking about what he loved most. That day one thing was very absurd that he paused a lot while talking.

Next day he came with Uncle. He practiced for some time and left.

 The inter-school baseball-tournament was around the corner. I was sitting with him and listening to his piano performances. He was growing mature on his piano keys. My young ears could also feel the maturity in that sound.

‘Today it is 12 and your big day is on 22^nd July’, I was trying to start a conversation once he was finished with his practice.

‘I will have to be strong before the day’, he explained with absolute faith and belief. His eyes were not strong as it used to be but his face still got that courage.

The next thing that I remembered was he was taken to the city hospital. Mom said he was taken to New Jersey for some sort of medical assessment.

He went there just before the tournament starts. I asked his mates from school about his situation with the team. I even once dared to cross all the lines and went close to ask Mr Dylan whether he was still in the team.

The next day when the entire school was kicking to start the event I was still worried if he could make it or not.

I was there with my mom and Stella. I was still thinking it could have been his first match that he was too excited about.

‘ Hey look there he is’, Stella surprised me.

I was stunned and thanked the Lord many times. I came very close to the team and wished him luck from distance.

Then it was an intensive match all together. He literally dominated with his swing control and clever pitching. Once we were down but his leading pitching literally dominated the pitching area. I witnessed a little genius in operation. The evening was celebrated with rounds of praise and hopeful cheers. I could see him slowly sliding down on the chair. Aunty and Uncle were already there. Before I could say anything he was wrapped in exhaustion and surrendered to the lap of his mom. Slowly things started becoming pale and rusty. The happy cheers and joyful celebration was left behind. We all rushed back to our homes. Then that night he was admitted to the city hospital from where he was transferred to New Jersey.

I asked God for one good reason why he had to go through this weakness. I expected him to return back happy and healthy on my birthday.

It is 25^th July but no one is celebrating. It is now 2 hours that my little hero, my stupid hero, lost his battle in the hospital. It was his first fight against life deteriorating cancer. He lost in his first chemo shock. He could not survive. The doctor said he came late. And it was way too much for an 11 years boy.

He left the hospital to just play his first big day and won the hearts of all of ours. Today is 25^th July, and now I am reading his Song that he wrote for me as my birthday gift. He gave it to me before he was shifted. I promised him I will read it from his side.

Dear diary, Song goes like this:

‘’ Butterfly and a Stupid boy

You can move a mountain.

You can drain the ocean out.

You can see the unseen.

You can see the light in the dark.

You can even stop the flood.

You can bring rain to the desert.

You can even make dead alive.

With your smile, You may

Make Sahara green again.

You are the joy

In the saddest hour.

You are the words

That poet chase for hours.

You are the shine

That makes us blind.

You are too strong

To be held in my palm.

You can guide the darkness

And throw it away from the world.

Happy Birthday my Girl. I wish you have that same fighting spirit. I wish you could always share your lunch with me.’’

Oh dear diary, I could not hold my tears. Sorry for my teardrops on your pages.

I wish I could always share my lunch box with my stupid hero.

But now I would always be mad at him because he found his way again to irritate me as always. He gave me the worst birthday moment with the most precious gift that anyone could cherish.

His first days would be always remembered. The very big first!

Dear Diary, Please keep him safe.

With Love

Rabiya