Looking back at the boy

I stood at the metro station. Dressed in formals, the attire of a corporate prison, with a group of people gathered outside. They were always there, irrespective of the time and day. A regular routine. Court to office, office to home. I barely remember when was the last time I paused to take a look around.

As observed, a few people could be seen eating Indian golgappas from a roadside stall, while the others were debating upon the socio-economy of the country and the lifestyle it served. It was a regular routine and would have been a picture-perfect evening if the gathering wasn’t disturbed.

There was a sudden outburst. The wind increased and dust gathered around. Children chuckled, while grown-ups quickened their pace and ducked for shelter. The clouds gathered in the sky and someone shouted:


A droplet of water fell on my forehead shattering into hundreds of minuscule drops. It felt like a breath of relief in this arid climate. Seeking shelter, I dragged and slogged my dubious body to the side when someone tucked my trousers.

Looking down, a boy, barely 9 years old with ragged clothes looked straight into my eyes. He had an unlikely resemblance to someone I knew once. Ages back. Who? I could not remember.

The same eyes, the cheekiness, the excitement on the prospective rain. It was a reflection of someone with no worries in life. A little bit of all of us.

Yes bachcha (child). Do you need anything?” I enquired. The drizzling increased and rain made its way through.

“No, no…” he replied, and realizing his mistake nodded his little head to request “Can you help me cross the road? I am afraid of the traffic and my friends are on the other side playing in the mud.” He pointed.

Following his gaze, I observed a group of 4 children, covered in mud and unmindful of others were playing with water. Innocence shined bright on their faces.

*I looked back at the boy*.

He was beaming with excitement. Not even an iota of worry on his face. Probably, the thought didn’t cross his mind that I might deny him the privilege to cross the road! (Or maybe he was used to the everyday denial of a passerby).

The rain started pouring in full force. People could be seen running for shelter in every corner. Like ants dispersing on being attacked by a higher prey. Couples ducking under a single umbrella, cars rushing past by, and there remained a group of children and a dubious me.

I didn’t realize when I held his hand, took him to the other end of the road. The cars splashed water by, the 5 children were united again. Even the might of nature could not keep them separated for long. The power of passion.

*Uncle! Won’t you join us?* the child turned around to invite me.

*Me? It’s raining too hard, and I can’t mess my clothes in the mud.* I replied.

*Oh! Don’t worry. Your boss won’t scold you. We only need someone to judge our game.* All five children were up in unison.

I looked around. People were staring at us from the shelters. What would they say? A grown-up playing in the mud, ignorant of his clothes and profile. I looked back at the boy. He still reminded me of someone…

“When was the last time I enjoyed the rain?” I questioned myself. It had been ages when I last had fun without a penny to care about. The impression of my childhood. A life I dearly missed, a time when my creativity spoke for me while my mouth only mumbled.

*I stared back at the children*.

Their innocence bargained me to join them in their holistic ritual. A privilege only a few grown-ups can afford.

It’s in a situation like this when your subconscious dictates your actions, and you figuratively become part of something big.

I joined the children. Guiding them in their quest. For once more in my life, I could be seen jumping in and around a poodle. The rain rejuvenating the dead spark within me.

*I turned around to thank that boy and the children*.

But there were none. I looked around. Strange eyes stared back at me. I stood alone on the streets while it rained.

It suddenly struck me.

The boy.

Didn’t he remind me of myself?

by boringbug

14 responses to “Looking back at the boy”

  1. Wonderful post and really engrossing. Loved the way it concluded. Nice meeting that 9 Yr old😉

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha thank you Tisha. Let me convey your comment to that 9 year old. :)

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Heyyyyy you’re far from boring, what a precious post and blog! I actually came here to apologize. I think you’d tried my previous blog url, the current one is http://innerdialects.home.blog
    You’re welcome

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hey, thank you so much for the warm words. Ah, yes, I think the link was broken.
      Sure. Will follow through the current link.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. As I read the post I fell for every word here, might have just ended up saying that you did a good post, the writing was good and all that. While it isn’t incorrect but you stole the show. I fell in love with that cute little careless boy.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much for your soothing words. I understand the post could have been better but it surprisingly took too long to even publish it.
      Although, it was fun to shed my veil of fear and enjoy the rain this season. Not everyone gets to enjoy their childhood once again. Even in notional terms.

      Ah, I am glad that you fell for the little boy. It isn’t easy to ignore innocence, is it? :P

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Hahaha yes. But that notion of innocence could be deceptive ;-)

      Liked by 1 person

    3. Well the notion lies in the eyes of the beholder who fell for the boy. ;)

      Liked by 1 person

    4. I am flattered, oh wait! Should I be flattered?
      I don’t know you wise men know well how to play with the words..

      Liked by 1 person

    5. Being flattered is a prerogative not everyone enjoys.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Great story, and that is an incredible photo!


    1. Thank you so much. :)


  5. I love the way you write! Thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Honestly, I wasn’t happy with this write up. It is nowhere near the thought and picture that I had in my mind.

      But your words always find a way to inspire me. Thank you so much. :)


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