A Dream that Saw Light

Short Story with Moral Lesson – A Dream that Saw Light
Photo credit: jeltovski from morguefile.com

As usual the beach has been crowded with tourists from different parts of the globe. Some were swimming and others were sunbathing. The calm and crystal clear waters, the friendly and affordable services, facilities for sailing, fishing, water skiing and the spectacular sunsets drew more and more tourists to the beach every year. It was a paradise for the them; though wasn’t much of a paradise for the natives.

Malawa, the boy, walked through the banks of the beach.  He held a small book in his hand. The visit to the beach was one of his routine activities. There was no other place that made him more happy, so beautiful and serene was the beach.

Malawa was not that happy as the tourists, he was a native of the place. How could he be happy when the rest of the world see him, his people and his place as dark? Yes, he was in the ‘Dark Continent’! Every day he woke-up with a complex that he has been born in the wrong part of the world. A placed ruled by poverty, illiteracy, diseases, death and many illegal things. The people in his place toiled day and night in their farms, or went fishing or did some business in the beach, to have bread at least once a day, which made many of the natives love those tourists, for without them, they would have starved.

Only a few in that place knew to read and write. Malawa was proud that he was one among them. Not because he attended a regular school, but because Patrick had arrived. Patrick was a voluntary teacher from Canada, the white world, who came to the dark part where Malawa lived, just to teach the children of that place. Patrick had nearly twenty-five students who were otherwise engaged in farming and similar activities to support their families. Malawa was just one among them. He had lost his parents long back, father had moved away even before he was born and mother had surrendered to tuberculosis. And that left Malawa with his grandparents from his mother’s side. He was a boy who had always loved to learn, but there weren’t any schools nearby that they could afford. And the voluntary teachers were their only hope.

Malawa was the happiest student when Patrick had arrived many months ago. His curiosity and interest to learn has been recognised by the teacher too. Once Patrick had asked his students what they wanted to become in future. When everybody shared their dream of raising crops, animals and doing business in the beach, it was only Malawa who told that he wanted to become a doctor. And his reply had evoked ripples of laughter in the class. Patrick was the only person who hadn’t laughed. Malawa always remembered that scene. At that time, his teacher had smiled and told him,

“Very good Malawa, you can do that. You all must think big, set a goal and then try to reach that. I am very happy that Malawa has already set a goal, so keep trying!”

But at that time the encouraging words of the teacher didn’t have any effect on him. He felt guilty for telling such a ‘big’ wish among his friends. He felt dejected when he saw the dark future mocking at him and his dream.

Every child in the place has been trained for one or the other jobs of farming, fishing and small-scale business, right from their childhood. Apart from the tourists, the only outsiders in the place were a few voluntary doctors and priests. When the voluntary doctors conducted free medical camps, Malawa used to view them with great respect and admiration. He even used to think that if there had been a doctor in the village, he would not have lost his mother. From those thoughts had sprouted the wish to become a doctor. Becoming a doctor was not at all easy for him, he needed more money, support and moving away from his home, which might even leave his family foodless. So, when the wish made appearance in his thoughts he consciously oppressed it with his difficulties. The thought that a black kid can’t think of becoming a doctor was so rooted in his mind somehow.

Patrick was such a loving and motivating teacher that when he left the place the week before, everyone felt sad and Malawa cried. He didn’t know how to tell his teacher how much he meant to them and how much they were indebted to him, so his unspoken words just rolled down his cheeks as salty drops.

Patrick had patted Malawa and had told him, handing over that small book to him, “Read it! And see that good and great things are not always grown from a perfect condition. Struggles help us grow. Malawa, you are bright! One day I would like to see you as a doctor, serving this village!” Those were the most boosting words that Malawa had ever heard in his life.

He held the book close to his heart. The only other thing he used to hold like that was his mother’s picture. Malawa read the book, peacefully sitting in a quiet corner of the beach every day. And that day he knew he would finish it. Malawa read the small note by Patrick in the book, for the hundredth time.

“Malawa, if you can dream it, you can do it. May your wish make you hardworking and determined to reach your goal. Never give up! You can do it, I believe that! You too need to do that! After me, other teachers will come there. Study well. I know there are scholarships that will help you in pursuing your dreams which I will tell you soon. I wish you the best. God bless you!”

The book’s title was “Gifted Hands”. It was a children’s edition and was a small book. Any well-educated child might read it with one or two hours. But it took Malawa almost a week to finish it. He read it with more respect than the Bible he had at his home. He knew and understood each word and situation he read and it was safe in his heart. It was an exciting, motivating autobiography of a black man named Ben Carson, who grew up without a father, who lacked ambition, who had terrible grades and who had a dreadful temper which could have even landed him in a jail. But motivated by his mother, by sheer determination and faith he had been pulled from the bottom of the class to the top and continued to soar in his studies. And finally he became the world-renowned neurosurgeon. While Malawa read the author’s attempts to fight racism and prejudice, he felt more and more appreciation for the author.

Malawa knew the faith his teacher had put in him, which none in his family or village had. If Ben Carson had mother, Malawa had Patrick. And it was enough for his dead dream to resurrect from the ashes. He knew one’s past and race were not deterrent for one’s future. What one thinks and acts at the moment determines his future.

His long forgotten dream, which was lost in the daily sufferings, poverty and moreover his apprehensions, came back to his mind reinforced.

‘If Ben Carson could do it, I too can!’ His mind sounded.

He held the book close to the heart again and looked at the beach. He saw some tourists were learning water skiing. After many attempts of failure, they were doing it perfect.

‘That’s how life is!’ Malawa smiled. A big wave in the beach reflected his joy.

There is no looking back, no more complaints for the cards he has already got to play, but only the determination to play his hand well.

And Malawa has changed forever.

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