The Good Friend
Under a banyan tree sat Veera cross-legged. His clumsy fingers and focused mind worked in a partnership. A soft breeze ruffled the newspaper he held. A stamp of his tussles with life adorned his face. Radha ran toward him, her cupped hands hoarding mangoes. She dropped them on his lap. Startled, the grip on his pen loosened. She chortled. Her pink ribbons fluttered in the air as she ran around him.
"Those are for you." She pointed at the yellow delights.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, the wavy folds seizing a droplet or two on the way. The tantalizing aroma made him feel alive. His eyes drifted in Radha's direction.
"Come on, eat," she gestured.
Its soft skin nuzzled his lips. Suddenly, he dropped the mango and kicked it.
"I hat...e mangoes. There is no place for sweetness in my life." He spat a garbled set of words.
He covered his face with his palms, sorrow spilling everywhere. Tender fingers wiped the tiny beads biting into his skin. A spark of warmth spread across him.
"Your complaints are perpetual, Dad. You will not let us live in peace." His son had walked out in resentment.
His daughter architected her life, a design without a place for him. After his wife's death, throes of desolation capsized him. One afternoon, he stood on a ledge, deliberating over his options. A pebble hit his head. He turned, his eyes glazing.
"I'm sorry." The girl made a face and pointed at the hopscotch design on the ground.
He faced the waves. The frothy waters seemed inviting.
"We can be friends," she said.
"No one would want to be friends with me." He thought that his words would push her away.
But the girl was a treasure chest of surprises. She ran to him and held his hand. Her stern yet compassionate eyes did the talking. He got down the ledge. After that, they met every afternoon. She brought him fruits, candies, and other goodies. Her endearing acts shattered the iron walls he had cocooned himself in. On a few occasions, they indulged in board games. He gave her lessons on chess. She taught him to live and smile. His gloomy demeanor stuck to him like glue. But her exuberance mellowed him down.
"What are you thinking about?" Her words disrupted his reverie.
"We are all caught in a whirling mass of regrets. It engulfs us like quicksand. Before we know it buries us deep." Guilt choked him.
"You talk in a language I can't understand," she shrugged.
A slim smile spread across his face.
"But I know that eating mangoes will make you happy." She wiped the mango against her frock.
His quivering hand held the fruit. A drop of the juice touched the tip of his tongue. Happiness took seed within him. He smiled, its brilliance enveloping his soul like a colorful canopy. She lugged him out of the abyss. Light streamed into his life again.