That Stupid Kid

And I froze. The realization of truth had just dawned on me. It was over. My all worries were over. I knew I had to die, but wasn't it worth? I had really killed forty nine people in that absurdly large building.

How should be life? Everyone smiles when you are there and everyone cries when you are gone. Perhaps the teacher had told a beautiful truth. Perhaps I wasn't able to understand it then. But as I proceeded, the realization came. I had lived a warrior’s life. I had won the game of life. Perhaps for the first time and last time, teacher was wrong. I killed those people. It made me feel good. I revenged my death before I died.          

I was happy. I closed my eyes. But a sudden loud cry made me open my eyes. Death was certain. But opportunity wasn't. I looked at him for a moment. I raised my gun to aim the last person alive in the building. And that too was an infant. An infant! What possibly it could do? Crawl? Cry? Stare?                                                                                                                                                    

A child! I started smiling. And smile turned into laugh. But not a laugh I expected to come from me. I expected a chuckle. I killed them! I killed them all! They couldn't do a thing. They were poor. They were crying. Begging, for mercy! Why? All my life I was a loser! No one even looked at me.                                                                                                                                                                                                     

I raised my gun. I was meant to do that. But somehow I couldn't. The laugh that came from me was different. And something incredible happened. The infant laughed, too. Such stupid little kids are! They do not even know when to laugh and when to cry and when to fear! The infant laughed. I realized it laughed because I laughed.                                                                                 

Why? Why did I laugh different? Was I in affection? No, that couldn't be true. I was born to survive. I was born to rule. I was born to make changes happen. I had a harsh life, too. I also lived on road. And one night he came to me. He gave me a new life! He told me he would send me to a different country. To a whole new world! And he did.                                                                         

And what did he want in return? Some useless lives, which did not even have any particular reason to be on the planet! They were going to die and rot in hell. I just helped them. They cried. Women protected their babies. I killed them. I killed babies first, in front of their mother. Mothers cried. But couldn't do anything!                                                                                                            
How could they? Their lives were under my control. I could've blown up them one by one! And I did that. I killed each of them!                                                                                                                                  

And it was last, this worthless little puddle. Dirty, wailing, orphan! Just as me! May be I killed his parents. But so what? My parents were killed, too! And the attacker left me. He left me to rot. He left me to live without parents. So that every day I can look up into the sky and curse God and then cry and then pray.                                                                                                                                                                        

But the terror wasn't there. I looked in his eyes. He looked into my eyes. I exhaled. My gun was still raised.  But I couldn't kill. I did not laugh to scare him. I laughed to comfort him. I did not laugh a mad ruthless laugh. I laughed serene.

And I closed my eyes. I perfectly knew why I laughed like that. It dragged me back to when I was just picked up by master. Master gave me new clothes. Master gave me good food. Master gave me new mobile. And I was wandering wasting money on city ride by bus.                                                        
And with my new clothes, I shined. I walked like I was the king. And I plunged in my earphones. The thousand rupee thing does have its effect. The bus was quite full. So I was standing. With my two thousand rupee bag flung over my shoulder carelessly, I was just like a -rich dad- kid. The man standing in front of me looked middle class. He was standing looking in his phone. And I took out mine.                                                                                                                                                                                               

If one and two thousand can make such an impact, I guess the rest of the work was done by just a glimpse of my twenty thousand rupee touch cell phone. The man threw a look at me. I looked at the phone and smiled.                                                                                                                                                          

Look bastards! Here I am! I have things which you can never have!

But man never looked again. I waited. Three, four, five minutes for him to look at me again, so I could show off.  But he didn't. And after a while a wail came.                                                    

Now it was my turn to stare. It was the most beautiful kid I had ever seen. She cried. And her mother, who had been sitting for all this time, gave her to her father. The man in front of me took her and cuddled her.                                                                                                                                                           

And gently, the kid looked at me. She smiled. She laughed and she extended her hand to touch me. I shook hands with her. Her father smiled. And the man looked at me and smiled. As if to question me,                                                                                                                                                                                       

Oh yes! Do you have this?

He was right. May be all that money meant nothing unless, I could do something decent from it. I mean what would be point of spending the life alone without a friend, without a companion, without respect? What would I do? Watch movies and whistle at girls?                                       

In a way I had reached a sensitive point on my life. But you know adolescence! I was barely eighteen and barely a ‘man’! I was not mature to think about it.                                                                                            

I thought and whenever it hurt I moved on. I looked at the infant again. She laughed. She made me forget my miseries. She made me forget my worries. She made me forget my ego. She changed me.

But the ride ended. I left. The bus moved on. I moved on. Infant moved on.

And after all these years it came back to haunt me.        

How could it have happened? I was taught to kill. I was meant to do this. I was taught to think that each and every person outside my border was my enemy. But I was wrong, wasn't I?                  

Perhaps, I had thought it all different. Perhaps my teacher was wrong. May be each morning, a person going for walk doesn't necessarily talk about how dirty my country is or how bad my religion is. Perhaps they do not loath us. May be my religion was wrong.
Or, maybe I was wrong.                                                                                                                                              

It’s funny how a small thought can change your life! I dropped the gun. My ears rang as beautiful sound of metal touching floor rang. My legs were tired. I couldn't stand it any more. And I felt a sudden blow from behind.  I still not remember exactly what happened that day. But whatever happened I was grateful to that.                                                                                                                                             

I never even looked back so as to see who had hit me. I knew I’d remember that face. I knew I’d hurt that person. But I didn't want to. I had changed. Just as my eyes opened in hospital 29 hours later, I realized I was paralysed.                                                                                                                                                      
And I accept it. Most of the people have nightmares of monsters, demons, even aliens. I have nightmares of that child.                                                                                                                                                               

It was a game. It had always been. I stayed in shadows. When time came, I came out and attacked. Some fearful victim was in shadows. When I turned to face the child, that person in shadows came and hit me with a hammer. Perhaps, it was the best victim could do. Maybe the person had taken a really bold move on risk of life. But that saved me by hurting me.                                
And I knew to forget. I just told media that I do not remember anything. I lie. Sometimes I think they know the truth. But do they?                                                                                                                                             

And sometimes I just feel insecure by the presence of a child around me in a mall. And sometimes, I just wake up to find myself wetting by bed with the dream of that night. I have dreams of what I would have done if I had killed that child. I have dreams of what I would have done if I hadn't encountered that child. And I cry. I cry and pray every day to tell god to wipe out that portion of my life. But I know that will never happen.