The Lost Hope

            “Why me, only me?

              In this world full of glee!”



    It was a bright sunny day. Construction work was going on .The contractor promised the proprietor to complete it in a year. The proprietor had arrived then on a visit with his family. He hugged his 7-year old son, gave him a peck and said “Look over there. That’s all yours. I am going to give that as a gift on your next birthday.” His son was about to reply. But he fell down and had a small cut over his elbow. His father immediately dressed his wound and consoled him.



   

    Gopal, in his ragged clothes, standing a foot away, was watching this.  “A mansion to a child, as a gift???”He thought. He looked at his, battered and bruised hands. Why the other day only, he met punishment from his mother, reason being his refusal to go to the labour. A virulent surge of hate towards his mother boiled in his mind. But, alas, what could she do??She, herself was too helpless to feed him and herself and wanted her son to help himself out. But, 9 years was too tender an age for him, to understand such things. He dreamt of becoming great and rich.





    Thoughts ran through his mind, “Am I born to be such? Do the rich only have the right to enjoy? I am also a human-being. Then, why I have to be forced to do this labour? Even an animal gets more freedom than me. Do all mothers force their kids to do this?” His fellow labourers told him the story of the proprietor, who owned the mansion. They told him that he was so miserable with his poverty that he walked away from his house and established a life for himself by studying at night school and working in day time.





      But, hope seemed to burn in his child-like heart. He wanted to make the story of the proprietor repeat for him.





      . “What are you staring over there? Do the work properly.” His mother was shouting at him, as usual. He again felt the surge rising in him and he wanted to express that. He was carrying a pile of bricks over his head, then. He flung it away with all the rage in his heart and started to run. He was running, running. His mother was shouting and slowly her shouts turned to crying.



                                “Sorrow can be of an ocean’s depth

                                  She would be dead unless she wept

                                  In her lap once was the child so dear

                                  Now, out of her world, so her heart fear”



    Gopal ran with all his strength of his muscle and all the hope of his heart. His thoughts and dreams ran as fast as him.He thought, “Poverty is not an evil to be hated but a cripple to be taken care of. There would be at least one person to help me. If he could only help me a little!!! I’ll work hard and get educated. I’ll become great and I can also let my children live as luxurious as the proprietor’s son. I’ll become great. Yes, I’ll reach the skies…”





    He reached the market place where most of the people were merchants. He saw a merchant who was sitting as idle as a log. He went to him and asked for a job and promised that he’d do it with all his heart. He told him his dreams and about his family and their poverty. The merchant said to him, “Boy! I am very busy now. Come tomorrow. I’ll give you a nice job.” He felt a little relieved. He promised the merchant that he’d come to him the next day. He was about to go when suddenly his  stomach grumbled. He was hungry. He did not eat anything from morning. It was already evening. He asked the merchant to give him some money so that he’d eat something. The merchant spoke, “Can’t you wait until the next morning? I’ll give you lots of food. Go away, my dear!”





    Gopal was shattered and went away. He thought, “These people, they speak like saints and act like devils. Nobody seems to care for me. No one seems to notice me at all .If I’ve stayed with mother. I’d have got at least a morsel of food. How I wish to have a father like the proprietor!” Where he was going, nobody knew, not even himself. He decided to stay that night in the city and wait till morning.





    No shelter, no home, nothing to eat, and what could he do in this world of conceit. Again, the only thing that comforted him was a bit of hope, faith but that too seems to get diluted. He saw a big banyan tree over the footpath. He thought of resting under it for that night.  He was shivering with cold. Already a lean person he was, it shook him further. Yet and still more, a hope, a little hope glimmering in his eyes, a hope that seems to stretch to the sky, higher and higher…





    The sun rose peacefully the next morning .The weather was sunny. Early in the morning, people were found gathering around the big banyan tree. Under that tree, there was a boy with eyes still held up to the sky. He was dead. His hopeful heart was as lifeless as he was.







              “Who is it that caused him death?

                His mother being the poorest of all

                Or the merchant who had no heart but a wall

                What is that made him take his last breath?

                The excruciating cold, which shook him miles past

                Or his lost little hope which turned out to be his last

                And his spirit was still asking this so-called mankind

                Why me, only me?

                In this world full of glee…”