DIM LAMP

She was standing outside a hut on the cliff. The last rays of sun were declaring the arrival of the evening with dim gleam. With the puffs of air, the dancing waves were frolicking with the rays of the sun. The hut seemed pleasant from far away but the people leading life in this one knew that how terrible it was? She was alone; her eyes were seeking someone in the vast ocean. She saw towards livid sky, the tired birds were returning towards their perches before dark night but she was not free and it made her gloomy. She was thousand miles away from her roost. Though she could move freely from place to place, yet this freedom was equal to salvation. She knew that she was a part of a mafia but she was compelled to do. She was silent just because of Hamu’s love. Hamu was a prisoner too. His name was Hamid but she used to call him “Hamu” with love. Both of them tried to escape but failed. Hamu used to work for Saith over sea and come back at night. The loneliness of a long day increased her boredom and she was trapped in the nest of meditations. She belonged to a prosperous family and now this hut was her fortune. Just few memories of childhood were saved in her mind about her parents and home as well she remembered that she was kidnapped. Long time had passed and now memories too, were vanishing away. They were living like the beggars so that no one could be suspicious about them. The day crept away gradually; she rose up and came out of the hut with a lamp. Many little boats were dancing with the waves. Her eyes were in the search of someone. The smile danced on her lips and all her weariness faded away when her eyes fell on the boat of Hamu. She kindled the lamp and put it on the edge of the rock. As the boat touched the rock, Hamu came out and tied it with the stones,

“How are you?” He enquired.

“Fine…” She smiled.

“Did you get frighten today?” Hamu asked affectionately.

“No… now, what to be terrified… more than half life has passed in these rocks.” Her voice lowered down with disappointment.

He went into the hut and lay down for some while.

“Is there no dinner tonight?” His voice roared in the darkness.

“There was nothing to cook.” The pain ruled her face.

“I bring in something from the coast.” He rose up and went towards the coast.

The rush of the people had come there to enjoy but he was charmless from this enjoyment. After dinner, Shazi set two beds outside the hut and they laid down.

The beams of the moon were glistening and the forceful waves of the sea were ending up after crushing with the rock. There was no drowsiness in his eyes. Neither had he any interest in the moonlight nor in the galaxy of stars. He was maddening about his disgust by Saith. He was lost in the fancy.

“Who has filled this box?” Saith shouted hoarsely.

 “Sir, Hamid” Someone replied.

“Hamid” Saith cried again.

“Yes, Sahib” He came in front of him.

“Don’t you know which box has to be sent where, and who’ll wrap it with the grass?” Saith yelled at him and a forceful blow hit his face. He got angry but remained calm.

Early in the morning, he went away and at the evening got back.

“Tomorrow evening, they will arrive.” He said.

“Ok, I will be ready.” Shazi replied shortly.

“But I want to do something this time.” He said decidedly.

“What happened?” She enquired.

“Yesterday, Saith has disgraced me, I want to take revenge.” His voice burst into anger.

“Do you know its punishment?” Shazi warned.

“Ya…” He replied.

“What is your opinion?” He asked.

“I am your maid and your decisions are always mine.” She looked at him with love.

He dined and went towards the beach. He stepped towards the office of the coast guards.

“What is the matter?” The security guard asked.

“I had some information.”

“Right, come in.”  The security guard said and he accompanied him. He informed the officer secretly and got back.

“Tomorrow will be the final day.” Hamu’s accent flared up with revenge.

“Perhaps, we may get freedom.” Shazi spoke hopefully.

“Tomorrow morning, I will leave away. In the dusks of evening, Saith will arrive with the boats. You will have to identify the way as usual and the police will control the matter…but take much care of yourself.” He stressed on the last sentence.

“Yes I will, but why are you looking so confused?” Shazi smiled.

“I don’t know why my heart is perplexed.” He said sadly.  

“You are always in panic, control on your heart.” She laughed.

This pleasant laughter was not less than the fragrance of the roses that changed the autumn into the spring. He too felt happy. Tonight, she had laughed after a long time.

The Milky Way was playing hide and seek with the waves and the moon was smiling on their fate in the mid of glittering galaxy. He felt pleasant. Soon drowsiness took them in its lap. When their eyes opened in the morning, the rays of sun were spread out. He was much worried and did not want to leave her alone. He gazed Shazi and rowed away the boat. She bade him farewell with a smile, standing outside the hut. When Shazi went out of his sight he felt, as his seeing was lost. When the boat touched the other bank, his thoughts dispersed. He tied up the boat and went into a muddy room in the dunes.

The loneliness of the day was creeping slowly and she was gloomy. The sun was shining and its rays were straying in worldwide and were alarming the end of the day. Seeing the stray rays, she thought;

“The sun enlightens the whole universe but never lets just a ray to stray in the darkness of the night while a man cannot protect his few rays.” Her fancy at once captured her home.

The sky got red and the sun was setting down with its little rays to end up a long tired day. When the sun hid behind the black veil, she went into the hut and came out with a lamp. Her eyes were focused on the sea. She saw some boats rowing in a queue and red flags identified them. A man was waving a handkerchief standing on the brink of the front boat. She waved her Dupatta in the blowing breeze and then entangled it in the stones. Kindling the lamp, she kept it on the edge of the rock. As the boats drew nearer, her palpitation disordered. The darkness overruled the night. The luggage was being unloaded and she was thinking about Hamu but her fantasy dispersed with terrible firing of weapons. The firing remained in practice for a long time. Saith was killed but bullets also pierced her fragile body. The rock was adorned with the corpses.

Hamu’s throbbing was upset and he was on his way to be back. Unusually, the waves were rushing tonight and the dashing of oars in the water was playing music. His hands were trembling and the oars were slipping again and again. He was much away but the powerful lights on the rock as well as the lights of the boats surrounding the rock made him able to see. The lamp was breathing its last.

“Why is the lamp dim…?” He became careless and his hands revolved restlessly. In the meanwhile, one of the oars broke up and he fell into the sea… He was a good swimmer but unfortunately, the waves did not avail him any chance for safety. Before getting attention of the coast guards or shouting for help, the cruel waves made him a prey of the doom.

There was a smile on the lips of Shazi, the smile of success. Both lovers had started a new journey. When the waves smashed with the rock, it seemed as these were assuring Shazi about Hamu’s love as the ambassador. The waves surged, the night crept, with draughts of the breeze, her Dupatta fluttered like the wings of an imprisoned bird, but dim lamp shimmered in the dark with luminous love. 

THE IMPERFECT PORTRAIT

There was hustle and bustle in the art gallery but she did not come yet, for whom I exhibited my paintings, dreams, life as well as myself. The people were trying to judge my secrets from these portraits. From a long time, these were hidden in my core. She elevated my work by her support. I was hearing admiring and criticizing sentences but my hearings were anxious to hear just one sentence from her lips whether that might be criticizing or appreciative. In her wait, my glimmering eyes became dull. With smiling face, I kept on standing on the gateway to greet her but my smile dispersed and I had to come back with trembling pace having no glimpse of hers. The famous businessman Mr. Hameedi was watching a painting and his voice captured my steps.

“Hello! Mr. Raza, your paintings are outstanding, you should exhibit these in London or U.S.A.” He said pleasantly and I smiled unwillingly.

“It’s… because of yours…. support and God’s almighty that I hit this fame.” I patched the broken lines.

Few steps ahead, film star Miss Tara was fascinated by one of the portrait.

“Hello! Mr. Raza.” 

“Hello! Miss Tara.” With reluctance, I posed the smile.

“Mr. Raza, it’s a fantastic exhibition, you know…I am very fond of these pictures.” She talked in her unique style as usual. All were my guests and I could not leave them alone. Though I desired to burn all these portraits and flee towards a forest, where there should be a deep calmness. I was upset, my eyes sans sight and the body shivered. I rang up her many times but no response. The sun went down in an unknown valley and the evening set in. I turned back excusing for sickness. Many guests were expected tonight but my joys vanished like the foam on the water. The commending and criticizing sentences were echoing in my mind. I dialed her number, the bell went on ringing but no one attended. The night crept away as a turtle.

The other day, I wanted her presence here at every cost. Early, in the morning, I rang her again. Any stranger picked up the phone.

“Hello! Who…?”

“Is there Miss Sidra?” I enquired.

“No, she didn’t come here at night. She is out of the city.”  I was replied and I put down the phone. My heart was displeased from the beginning of the day. All the criticism and comments, each and every conversation I heard but my hearing remained deaf to hear her. At night, with bated breaths and shivering legs I arrived home. I laid down dismal and then my eyes opened at dawn.

I was busy to get ready for the office that the doorbell rang. She was the bell-ringer while I was the attendant. A frown appeared on my forehead. I turned back and she accompanied me,

“Do you behave so rudely with the guests?” Her soothing voice dominated over my senses.

“No, I behave rudely with the cheaters.”

“Cheater…” She was shocked.

“Yes, cheater, I exhibited my work, spirit and dreams; just for you as my special guest and you didn’t come.” I said emotionally.

“But I have not deceived you.” She replied.

“But you had promised to come.” I told.

“Raza...! Please try to understand. I didn’t come because of some problems.” She replied humbly and her face was red with regret.

“What’s the problem?” I asked scornfully.

“It’s very personal.” She spoke coldly.

“Ok, sorry for interference.” I replied angrily.

For a long time, there remained silence and her eyes were fixed on the portraits in my home. She sat on the sofa while I kept on standing in the hall. Then her voice echoed,

“Raza...! Sometimes a person is trapped in such ailments that he can’t get his place in the society and I am one of those.” She became silent for a while. “You are my friend and a friend always forgives, I hate large gatherings of people because my heart’s wounds become green and it’s intolerable for me therefore I couldn’t attend the exhibition.”

During all the conversation, the expressions of misery were apparent on her face. She had left away but I remained upset for a long time. With deserted heart, I reached the office and first of all, I dialed her. She attended the call and chatted laughingly forgetting all the glooms. She left a lot of questions for me and I kept on thinking about her depravations for a long.

Three years before, we happened to meet. She was my classmate in Fine Arts. She was a fashionable girl, going for long drives and a proud smile on her lips. One year passed silently out of two years course. She became attractive towards my portraits. One day we had an outdoor tour. I was unaware of the surroundings and was busy in painting the landscape that her voice echoed in my hearings.

“Your hands have magic.”

“Thank you.” I thanked.

“Please accept me in your apprenticeship.” She said pleasantly.

“I am student myself what will I teach you?”

“Just to write the name….” She replied jokingly and we both laughed.

Afterwards I began to support her in painting and we became fast friends. The days became playful and the life began to borrow the colours from different moments. The days passed together, walks in the evenings and after a dinner; she used to drop me on my flat. Then onwards, the night used to pass in phone chatting. The life was full of frolics that there happened a severe accident that not only distressed her but I too was bitterly disturbed. She was admitted in the hospital for many months and I left no effort to serve her. Her attitude and figure was changed. She was dispirited and her jolly face turned into gloomy one. I tried to heal up her miseries with encouraging words and got her out of this troublesome. When the life set up on the normal routine then I continued my paintings again.

She offered me for an exhibition, booked the gallery, made the paintings decorated by her servants but she did not attend the exhibition. In our long lasting friendship, she left me alone for the first time. I was in meditations that clerk’s voice interrupted;

“Sir, office time is over.” I startled half an hour had passed over and the file was opened before me as the same.

“Complex…No…such a jolly girl can’t have a complex?” Once few class fellows met me but I did not believe on their opinion.

“No, such a girl can’t be a psychiatric …?” I rejected all.

I thought a unique idea and decided to paint her portraits. After her permission, I began my work. When the portraits completed, I exhibited those at my home. These were 15 in number in different poses. She unveiled each picture with her hands. The joy was glittering on her face and she was thanking me again and again. In the last portrait, I had painted her full figure. Sensationally, she turned her hand on the painting and all her joy vanished. Her face turned pale and the eyes became wild. She carried the brush from the canvass and cut the right leg. She drew a long line harshly and it seemed like the sticks in her right arms. She saw towards me and cried wildly,

“Stupid artist..! The imperfect portrait is perfect now...!!!”

DOCUMENT

As rain started, she stepped fast but in spite of much effort when she reached her hut, she was wet. She threw the bundle of gathered papers in a corner of the hut. She was fumed to see the papers outside the hut, which had been pierced to be a part of the land. She was fret that her hard work of weeks ruined within the moments. These papers were accumulation of her entire life. If there would not be these papers, she too had no existence. She was displeased for a long time. She rinsed her clothes to lessen the intensity of cold. Outside, it was raining heavily. The flood of water was flowing towards the canal with smashed papers. She was afraid that neither the parents had arrived nor the vagabond brother.

She was living in a hut in the forest with her parents and brother. It was a desolate place in between the city, which because of herbs and groves had turned into the forest. Nearby was a canal, which fulfilled their daily necessities. The atmosphere was heart soothing. All around was verdure and the twittering birds rejoiced their ears. Her father usually used to go to the neighbouring poor populations and he was dead drunk all the time. All day her brother sauntered with the vagabonds and came back at night to sleep. The mother begged from door to door while she used to collect rough papers from the heaps of filth. Then she converted these rough papers into paper-boats, airplanes and other toys. After selling these, she collected rupees, flour and other eating material. The whole family was filling the stomach on the earning of both mother and daughter. Her paper-art was popular among all young and elders. The paper was only intention of her life. If she watched the paper anywhere then like a mad she at once pounced on that. She was dejected to see the papers that were wet because of raining. Though she was amused on the raining but for the first time her heart was dispirited. The raining became slow but the papers had flown away. She glanced at the flowing water, in which children played with her hand-made paper-boats but her childhood was colourless from all these joys. She was happy with the gaiety of children when they used to play with her hand-made toys but as her eyes fell upon the smashed papers, all her imaginations dispersed away.

As the raining slowed down then she saw her mother coming drenched. She helped her mother to come into the hut.

“All flour is wet.” Her mother said, “Have you eaten anything or not?”

“No Mother.”

“Oho, I have not brought anything.”

“Yes, you are just anxious to fill your stomach.” She babbled.

“Idiot...! You always bark.” The mother pulled a long face.

The mother changed the dress and put wet clothes aside. She slept wrapping up an untidy and an old blanket. She watched her mother angrily for some while then moved towards the canal. The water was falling in the canal like a cascade. She began to rejoice, after some times when she felt cold, she came back in the hut and slept up. Both kept on sleeping until night. When she got up, she separated wet flour and kneaded it for the dinner. She baked breads but for a night long, neither the father came nor the brother. She took the meal, gave to the mother and then became busy in the paper-art.

The next morning, all things were dried. She put those in a basket and went towards the city. When she reached there, all children surrounded her and put different demands before her. Within moments, all the toys were sold and she turned back. She was in meditation that the coming day she would have to sit in the hut. Because of last day’s rain, she had no hopes to get the papers but she wanted those at every cost. She was stepping towards the hut that all of sudden she saw a person who was overhauling his motorbike and there was a bundle of office files on it. What did she know that what the file was? Her concern was only with the papers. She wished to get those files. Her eyes were fixed on the files like a greedy cat. She hid behind the herbs and began to wait for the person to get out of the way. Few moments later, he went towards the canal to bring in the water. It was a golden chance for her, she swooped on the file. After stealing the file, she was much cheerful. Unaware of the fact that what would befall on him. When she reached the hut, she was out of breathing. She lay down on the bed senselessly. After while, she rose up and began to make different paper-toys. The other day when she was going towards the city, accidentally she crashed with a car. The basket fell down from her hands and the things scattered here and there. She rose up angrily and said to the driver;

“Are you blind? You are not the owner of the whole world.”

“Sorry.”

“What do you speak? Oho.” She chattered.

She gathered all the toys and went away. The man was surprised to watch her pretty toys. He kept an aero-plane, which she had left in a hurry. In the first glance, he became admirer of her art who changed the rough papers into a piece of an art, magically. He saw all around but she was out of the sight. Now he often visited there where he had met her. Gradually, he became aware of her timings. Now whenever she went towards the city then she happened to meet him anywhere. As days passed on, the gentleman trapped in the nest of her love. Neither she was beautiful nor had any etiquette. If anyone would have instructed her then she would be well mannered but her innocent face always deceived the people.  Few days later, the gentleman began to buy her toys. She argued with him many times that, “I make these toys for the children, then why do you take these away?”   The gentleman told her that he worked in a Children Welfare Organization and bought these toys for the children.

With the passage of time, the gentleman lost his self in love’s mire of her fascinating figure. He began to feel himself incomplete without her. After severe emotions of heart, the gentleman brought her into his palace marrying her, a day. The reality revealed to the gentleman in days, whom he considered dumb, she was a blunt. He had to listen a lot. Whenever she found any paper at home that was changed into a piece of an art. Within a week, all rough papers at home were changed into art and whole house was looking like a paper-palace. The gentleman was puzzled. One day he came back from the office then Mrs. was not at home. The servant told that she had gone out with a basket full of paper-toys. He flared up that the wife of an officer had gone to sell the toys. As she returned, he caught from her hairs and roared.

“Stupid! Which facility you don’t have here?”

“Everything…”

“Then what need to do this vulgarity.”

“It’s not vulgarity. It’s my life. To fill the belly is not enough. It’s my art.”

“Filth is filth, whether take it in a palace.” The gentleman shouted.

“Filth was happy at its place. You proposed me!!”

“You may leave it.”

“I can’t. It’s my spirit. If I don’t make these, how may the children play? I have done this work my all life. I am not ashamed of it.”

“The wanderer of streets is never at ease at home.”

“I don’t know anything. As I have passed my past life, same as it will be passed.”

“Then get out from my home.”

“All right…”  She replied relaxed, put all the things in the basket, and got out of his home. She rejected all gold and silver, because her soul was in the art. She reached back, decorated all the toys in her hut cheerfully. This hut was her whole universe. The other day, she went towards the city.  In the way, the gentleman was waiting for her. He came out of his car and spoke angrily,

“Take your divorce document. I have divorced you.” She took that paper quietly and within the moments changed it into a piece of art.

“Keep this paper with you. I have lot of papers. This boat will support you.” She held a paper-boat in his hands and disappeared in the streets with the rush of the children.

INSURANCE

Carrying the file of documents, he had been wandering round the roads of the city for many months. After completing his post-graduate, just a good job could secure him as well as his whole family. The gleam of hopes in the parent’s eyes teased him while the wistful faces of brothers and sisters made him crazy. All past dreams of the university vanished. First, he had to support his parents as the eldest child among the big family. He was busy to materialize his dreams. With the passage of time, the disappointment surrounded him like a web. Sometimes there was no school fee of the brother and sometimes the sister had no books. He had lost his identity, seeking the solution of all these problems. At dawn, he used to go to fulfill his dreams and came back at the darkness of the night, so that the luminosity of the hopes in the parent’s eyes might not be dimmed to see him. He was fed up to appear in the tests and interviews. Everywhere the seats were already reserved. Now he began to feel as he had committed sin to get education. It would be much better that he would have worked in any workshop so that today he might be able to earn some pennies.  He often used to think that he might become a waiter in a hotel or a salesman at a shop. He was unable to fulfill the dreams of his parents who wanted to see him on high rank. He was tired of daily throttling of desires. When he faced his desperate parents then he abhorred himself. His heart frightened to see expectant faces of his brothers and sisters. Hatred created in his mind against the bundle of documents. He was waiting for any miracle, which might turn out his circumstances. He was trapping in the bog of poverty day by day and the hardships disguised like a dragon.

One day, he received a parcel by post. In the first glance, he was delighted that perhaps it was any call-letter for his job. Seeing the name of the father on the envelope, he handed over it to his father. The eyes of the father gleamed after reading it. He judged the hidden feelings in those eyes and asked courageously.

“Father, what’s the problem?”

 “Nothing, it’s a notice.”   

             “Notice, about what…?” He startled.

             “Some years before, I had deposited some money in an insurance scheme on your account. I had thought it would be helpful for a rainy day but who knew that in future we wouldn’t be able to pay its installments.” The pain in father’s voice ended up after crushing with his ears and a tremor ran through his spine. He felt himself guilty.

 “Father...! Don’t worry. I will meet them tomorrow that they may avail us some days.” He said with hopefulness. Next day, he took all information from insurance agent. Explaining the rules of policy, he said,

“You will have to pay five thousand as an installment up to five years constantly. After twenty installments, you will be paid half million. Yes, it is possible that you can take back your twenty five thousand after five years. Otherwise, if suddenly you…...” hearing the last option of the agent, he became conscious and his eyes glistened.

            With the break of the day, he got out of his home with an unknown joy. He was stepping along the road. The smile danced on his lips seeing a distant vehicle.  Suddenly, he spilt and fell down on the road. The crackling sound of brakes roared and he became a part of the road covered with the blood.

His sudden death was wailed for long. After some days, the agents of insurance company reached his home and according to rules, they put cash of two Lac on the fist of his father, which was the insurance of his life. 

PITCHER

The potter gave the final shape to his new creation and touched it with wet hands to make it smooth and fascinating. The wet clay hands slipped over the pot and it got a new shape. His face glistened with joy and satisfaction was apparent on his face. He stopped the wheel and put down the pot from it. He again looked it with the joy and put it outside in the sunshine to get it dried. He moved towards the other pots and checked them whether those were dried or not. He clinked the dried pitchers and the pots to be assured about their durability. The surface of the pitcher was soft and the voice of clinking echoed from its mouth. The jingling sound waved the feelings of pleasure in his body. He threw the extra potsherds in the corner to clean up the yard. One of those potsherds crashed with a pot, the deep sound as if a well echoed from that one and his heart soothed up to hear that sound.

            He wandered in the yard that was full of pitchers, plates, dishes, cups and clay-toys. The small bulls, cows, parrots, sparrows, lions, tigers, bears, and eagles were before his sight that he made with that clay which used to be extra from the pots. He baked them in the furnace and then polished those. He collected the feathers of the birds from the jungle and dyed those with different colours to create gorgeous beauty in his toys. These colourful toys were attractive for the children. He decorated those in the front showcase to beautify his shop.

He touched everything and felt a charm, as these were his siblings. The hard work of years was lying in front of his eyes. Every thing was glittering in the sunshine and the rays of sun dazzled each eye that fell upon toys. He gathered entire potsherds in a corner of his backyard. Those baked potsherds were not less hard than the stones. He mostly threw away those potsherds on the heap of garbage and small boys of the village collected those potsherds to use in their games. His potsherds were mostly used in a game in which seven to eight potsherds were put in an order then a person hit with a ball. The members of the first team made these in the same order while the others beat them with the ball until those were not arranged in the same way. Sometimes, he used to visit the playground of the village at the evening and be jubilant to see the clever and active boys playing with the broken parts of his pots. At that moment, he felt proud that each part of his hand-made things was useful in different ways.

He kneaded the clay to make some new pitchers. He put a ball of clay on the wheel and began to mould it into a pitcher. His eyes were fixed on the clay and the hands were moving magically. The muddy water was rinsing from his hands and falling down on the land while the pitcher was getting a new shape. He made the lower part of it but not for a while, his eyes blinked. He kept on moulding the clay and his hands kept on wetting with the water in the bucket. His hands were full of mud and it seemed as those were also made of clay. The poor artist was deepened in his art to present his new creation in a unique way. The pitcher got a shape and he made its hollow big belly to fill as much water as it can. He put more clay to make its round neck. His wet magic hands kept on moving on the pitcher to make its surface smooth and muddy. He finalized his creation and stopped the wheel. He cut its bottom with a knife from the wheel, put it down and kept it in the sunshine. For few days it kept on drying in the sunshine then he put his new dried pots in the furnace and kindled it to make his all pots more dried and baked. He wanted perfection in his every creation. For a long, those kept on baking in the fire. After cooling down the furnace, he separated the pots and pitchers, one for domestic purpose and the others for decoration. After making two groups of his all pots, he polished both. He sent the domestic ones to be sold in the market while gave the others to his pupils to convert those into the decoration pieces.

He was considered an expert to make decorated pots that were adorned in the drawing rooms of elite class, who presented themselves much art-loving. But he was always paid so much money that he was able to lead his life hand to mouth but he had no concern with money, he wanted to serve art and wanted to be alive forever. The flowers and the landscapes portrayed on his pots attracted each art-loving eye. The colourful cups and the plates were the reason of his fame. The pitchers decorated with small colourful crystals were also an art of his hands. Along with these decoration pieces, he was famous for his domestic pots as well. His pitchers were the most popular among the swimmers of his village. His hand-made pitchers were termed to be much helpful in the swimming and the swimmers used to buy the pitchers from him. They put the pitcher inverted on the water, the air used to fill up in the pitcher and it helped the swimmers to swim on the surface of the water. Most of the swimmers used to sit or lay on the pitcher putting it under their waist or belly and crossed fast brooks and rivers. He himself was an expert in swimming and had won many swimming competitions in the surrounding villages. When he was young then he trained the youngsters to use a pitcher for the swimming. He took them to the river and taught them the tricks of swimming. The young girls of the village also used his pitchers to safeguard themselves from the waves of the water. He was popular among all. The children liked him for toys, the women visited his shop for the sake of pots and the men were eager to buy his pitchers for the swimming.

The summer was ahead and he was making new pitchers so that the people might be able to drink cold water as well as the swimmers might fight with the rippling waves of the water. The water level of the river rose up in every summer and was a reason of joy for the swimmers. He availed them the pitchers and the praising words of the swimmers ran a new passion in him. He remembered the days when he gave the tips of swimming to others and he was considered as a master.

Within days, he made many pitchers and now the yard was full. There was no television in the village but the people visiting the city used to inform others. He heard the news that this year due to heavy rain, the river was on flood. He also visited the banks of the river then the water was at its full swing. The radio had also announced the news about the danger of flood. His heart trembled to hear the news. The water began to rush with the banks to create any rift. The young men of the village were strengthening the bank so that the water could not destroy the village but the water was much ranged and its angry waves wanted to swallow everything. The people started migration to other safe places but he was not ready to leave his full yard.

The night was ahead and all night there was hustle and bustle all around. It was first night of his life in the village that was so much noisy and disturbing. The people kept on migrating while he kept on waking all night long. At morning, the whole village was empty and the people were shifted to other places. His heart was grieved because of the lonesome village. He went to the yard again, touched everything and felt a new life in the depth of his being. He felt as all his toys became alive and wanted to share his feelings. All the pitchers wanted to flow him away from this place but his heart was not willing to leave the yard. Here was lying his hard work of the years, his life, his art and his culture. He peeped outside in the street then the last running man said to him,

“The government has announced that after an hour the water will enter in this village. Uncle! Save your life. Let’s move….” The man said sobbingly and caught his arm to drag him away. He jerked his arm and said:

“I am not coward like you. The village needs us I’ll stay here.” The man ran away but he kept on standing there. He looked towards the sky then the black clouds were ready to shower. He became anxious and started to shift his pots under the roof. His hands were trembling and the eyes were wet. The drops of rain started to quench the thirst of the land. The pitchers and the pots began to imbibe the raindrops. He heard the rustling of water and a wave of terror moved through his spine. The water was gushing towards the village crushing everything in its way. He climbed on the roof to view the situation then he saw the water all around. The old muddy walls of the houses had been demolished. The roofs were floating and the vagabond dogs were running madly to save their lives from the cruel waves of water. The animals left behind in the village were also running in the streets to get themselves saved from this disaster. He conjured from God and in due time the water entered in his house. He jumped from the roof to stop the water but it was not dependent upon his permission. The pots and the pitchers began to float on the surface of the water. The colours of birds mixed with the water, his eyes shed tears and heart’s beat was out of order. His each creation was melting down to become the clay. Still he was counting the colours of the birds that suddenly the wall of his weak verandah fell down with a booming blast. The pitchers, the pots, the plates, the dishes and all the toys cracked with a loud sound. Some pitchers broke, some floated on the surface while few drowned. While the birds were drowning in the water, he felt as those flew up towards the sky scattering the colours like a rainbow. His body was drowned in the water; he caught a pitcher and tried to swim but all decisions of fate were against him. The pitcher was already weakened with the falling off the walls. He could not control over the pitcher and it slightly slipped under him. The master of swimmers forgot all tricks. The water entered in the pitcher and the rushing waves of the water swallowed him. For the last time, his hand rose out of the water as he was also trying to fly. After flood, his corpse was found, lying in his own yard. His small hand-made birds were saluting him on his devotion for art. The broken pots made a safeguard around him as those did not want to lose their creator.