Short Moral Story – A drop of Kindness
Photo credit: EmmiP from morguefile.com
As the rain drops make their way through the hundred heads blocking the road, I keep waiting for the red light to turn green. An old milk-coloured safari tries to cross past me. A milkman on my left tries to take his prized bicycle below a roof beside. The rain pounds against the window pane. I hate the rains for the mud puddle it creates and for the rattling sound. On days like this, I chose not to move out of my home and plug earphones into my ears. Yet, an important meeting with a client forced me to keep my enmity at bay.
A little girl knocked at the window. She was dressed in a dingy frock drenched with muddy water. She had beautiful flowers in her hand. Perhaps she wanted to sell them. I shooed her away. Rain drenched people irritated me as much as the rain did. I am not really unkind but if it rains the way it did then, I would never open my window. I watched her run away to a lady sitting in an auto who gleefully bought them for her. The red light turned green and I was off through this rain.
Ten minutes later I was passing through narrow lanes and bylanes. The rain wasn’t pouring now. Instead it was landing ferociously on the windows and creating a deafening sound. My hatred for rain increased. I banged past the drops and wished I killed a few. Though there were so many of them, killing a few on my way did give me immense pleasure. My office was still a long distance away.
I waited impatiently for the rains to stop remembering a little nursery rhyme that I used to sing as a kid, little realizing that one day this rhyme would be a part of my life. My friends laugh at me when I say I hate the rains. For them, rains are a sign of happiness when they can go out in the open, dance with the rain drops and laugh their hearts out. I often wonder whether they are humans or peacocks, though refrain from asking it. They say rains come from heaven, from the home of Gods. Perhaps, that is why they took my parents away to the home of God.
It was a rainy day, as fierce as this though I used to find it lovely then. I watched the raindrops sliding down the glass as we made our way to the park. It was a routine for my parents to take some time out of their hectic life and drive me away to the park every Sunday. This was where I would meet some of my friends, only a few of whom have lasted till today. Mom and Dad were happy because it was another Sunday, a day out of their busy life. I too was, for it was a rainy day. Dad stopped the car at the parking lot and I flied to the park. Mom kept shouting for me to hold the umbrella. I refused to and ran to the swing. I had so many friends there waiting for me and so many who arrived.
This rainy day which drenched me with rain was turning out to be really enjoyable. The see-saw rides, merry-go-rounds, toy-horse ride and ofcourse jumping in the rain puddles were all I wanted. After an hour of enjoyment, dad carried a reluctant me away to sit in the car. I pleaded for an icecream. Wish granted. It was turning out to be lovely day though I wished for a longer time in the park. We moved back towards home, with the rains still sliding down the window panes.
“ Mumma, where do these rains come from?” I asked.
“ They come from the heavens. That is why they are so beautiful and refreshing. These rain drops that you see are not drops of water but fairies who come to remove the pall of sadness from our lives and fill them with freshness.” she replied with a smile.
“Where then do these fairies go back?”
It was the last sentence that my parents heard though I would talk to them often and ask why those fairies ever came.
A loud screech brought me back to present. I halted the car. A little calf came on my way. I was nearing office. Though our town was quite small, it was big enough to separate my house and office by ten miles. These dirty bylanes and slums with broken paths towered by piles of garbage decorated my way to office. Today, due to the heavy rains the roads were dirtier and muddier. As I killed past a few more rain fairies, revenging for the loss of my parents, I watched a little girl kneeling outside a thatched makeshift house. A littler boy was sitting beside her. He was perhaps just a year or two old. It was the same girl who was selling those flowers. A bunch of flowers lay beside her. The rain had perhaps rotten them too. The world was as unkind as me, which would not buy flowers from this poor girl. She was feeding little morsels of bread to this little boy.
I heard her whisper to him, “ You know I got you on a day as this. It was the same day fairies came from heaven and took away my parents. The floods washed away my house and I watched the little rain fairies pick my parents away. They must be so happy with them. I remember them remaining hungry just to feed me. There they would never be hungry and would stay happy forever. That is why I love the rains.”
She seemed crazy to me for a moment. How can someone love the thing that took her parents away from her. She seemed weird.
She stood up carrying the little baby who seemed too heavy for her small arms and ran out for a jiggle in the rain. The laughter that filled the air and the spark in her eyes were confusing. I stood transfixed. She was supposed to hate the rains, just as I did. We both were victims of the rain drops who seemed like monsters to me.
BANG!!!!!!!!!!!!! There was a loud noise. Our car had been hit by a truck. The heavy rains made it hardly visible for Dad to stride the car safely. There was a pool of blood that mixed with the rain water. Someone carried me away. My mom’s voice was fainting away. She was speaking of the rain fairies. Her voice was no more audible. That was the last time I saw them. My grandma said they have gone away with those fairies.
I opened my eyes to see that same pool of blood. The little girl was lying on the ground, in a pool of blood mixed with muddy water. Perhaps some vehicle had hit while I was remembering the images of that day, that rainy day. I jumped off my car to be with her. The rain drops kept hitting me. They seemed like monsters. It seemed like ages when I had last been hit by them. I had to save this little girl, from these monsters anyhow. After all, she was like me. We had the same enemy even if she did not consider them as enemies. I picked her up and ran towards my car. I wouldn’t let the rains take away one more life.
Had I known where these fairies had taken my parents, I would have run to them and never returned back. I loved their presence around me. Today the words of this little girl brought back memories of that kid who loved these rains. I couldn’t afford to lose her.
A little drop dropped from my eyes. Were these the same fairies my mom talked about? Were the rain fairies the same as the ones that fell from my eyes?
“ Please take me out to the rain. I want to feel the drops once again” she uttered. She was still lying on the hospital bed. The doctor had declared her to be out of danger.
“ Get well soon and we would both run out to the rain and enjoy together” I smiled back.
I looked out of the windows. It was still raining. The slanted and straight avenue of the rain drops was a lovely sight to behold. The lovely music they create draw goose bumps on the skin. The crystal clear drops create dribbles on the glass through which I could see those lovely moments again, the see-saw rides, merry-go-rounds, toy horse rides and the jumping in the rain puddles.
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