Birth of the White Buffalo

The bell hanging from the handle of the door...

gone was the girl

gone was the girl once innocent of love,...


A Man's Last Dream


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Written by Nishant   
Sunday, 30 March 2008
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ImageAuthor's note: Being an indian, I have based my story in India. Thats why it has a different feel to it.

 

 

Some three years back, Narayan had big plans for his life - after he gets his MBA degree from the Vijay Kumar University, he was planning go to Delhi, where he would apply for the post of General Manager in a high profile company. His plans – obviously – did not take the required shape. His parents fell in deep debt and were unable to afford his education.

 

He bent his head, and gave a nod of approval to marry an empty-headed girl from a lower cast, for the sake of dowry that would help his parents to pay back the debt. The debts were paid back, but the incomplete education was never completed. He was now doomed to sit in his fathers shop and sell spices at a marginal price to the poor people. Three years passed, without a speck of change in his life.

One day his friend Raj came to him. There was an unusual ecstasy in his voice:

“Hey. Howdy! I’m Fine. You know buddy. This year the football tournament is in our town. Yo, you heard it right mister. It’s in our town”

Apart from his dream of being a GM in a high profile company, Narayan’s only other wish was to represent his state at the annual football tournament. He was greatly delighted to hear that this year’s tournament was to be held in his city.

He closed his shop an hour early and headed towards the practise grounds. Walking with his eyes facing the ground, he muttered to himself:

“It is so interesting. Football in my town! I would love to meet these new players. Who knows, maybe they might ask me to join them. Ohhh . . . that would be such a delight. I will show them my extraordinary talent. I will kick the ball and woooshhhh . . . it will go flying in the air, swearing never to come down. They would all be astonished. Who know, maybe they might even ask me to play for them . . .”

He arrived at the practise ground. Just like a five-year-old kid sticks his nose to a glass, he stuck his head to the transparent fence, in order to get even the faintest view. There was a group of seven people, passing the football among themselves, with their slow-motioned kicks. They were giggling and laughing more than they were concentrating on the game. Narayan stood there like a statue, his eyes oscillating left and right, trying to align with the position of the ball. One of them kicked the ball very hard; the ball came out of the field. It was lying next to Narayan. His joy crossed all boundaries.

“Finally. I got to kick the ball. Hurrah. Now I’ll tell these kiddies whose the boss in here. I’ll show em’ a real manly kick”

“Hey, Please pass the ball”, shouted someone from the students.

Narayan went back, came running towards the ball -- all eyes on him now-- and . . . and . . . he fell down before his foot could touch the ball. Courtesy: the slippery mud

“Damn this . . . this mud”

A wave of laughter spread through the students.

“Hey fatso, no power, huh”

“Come on uncle. Don’t waste our time”

Narayan stood up. The monster of shame slew the joy inside him, but even the leftover traces of joy were enough to give him courage for another try. This time no running and hitting.

His right foot oscillate back; then it came down with lightning speed, it pierced the green grass in the way and woooshhhh . . .  it hit the ball.

Alas! The power was too less. The ball bounced back from the fence and hit his shameful face.

“Hey you! Are you blind. Deaf. Dumb. Why are you wastin’ our time, huh?” shouted some one from the students.

One of the boys picked up a small stone and hit him. The stone was too small to do him any physical harm, but was big enough to shatter the reminiscent of his joy.

Narayan had neither reason nor courage to stand there. He ran towards his house. A tear . . . no two tears came down his eyes; one from the left and other from the right. They were succeeded by even bigger ones. By the time he was home, It had started raining. His wife came rushing out.

“Where were you? I was waiting for you. Come in and eat something”

His wife looked more timid and foolish then ever. He ran inside, leaving behind a shattered dream. After that, he never dreamt again.

But, you know . . . something good happened that day. The rain hid his tears and prevented his wife from knowing about his husband’s incompetence.



Copyright 2008 Nishant
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Comments (5)
Posted by R.E.Potter
2008-03-30 06:21:52
,,,

This was a funny yet sad story. Watch your delivery.
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Posted by thirteen
2008-03-30 09:40:47
....

Yeah, liked it.Liked the last sentence.
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Posted by Rover
2008-03-30 10:44:58
....

Sadly this kind of stories happen...You created a really nice character, I could relate to him. The setting was interesting too, but I feel like you could have given more attention to the Indian elements...since you know about them, it shouldn't be hard for you, and it would make the reading even more enjoyable.

I think you did a little mistake, or maybe it's me not understanding the meaning of this sentence:

'The rain hid his tears and prevented his wife from knowing about his husband’s incompetence.'

shouldn't it be 'her husband'?
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Posted by Roadkill315
2008-03-30 15:37:29
....

"His wife came rushing out."

I keep trying to visualize this like a mother coming out to meet her child after a fall...

fun read.
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Posted by Tarhead Mugwump
2008-04-02 01:56:36
really enjoyed

reading this story. somebody above commented about "Indian" elements, and i thought that i would like to read a un-americanized version - if you have one...

the $1.98 question for me is: do folks really say "howdy" in India?

write on!
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Last Updated ( Sunday, 30 March 2008 )
 
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