How vain you were, to try to impress your friends whenever you got a chance! Now that you are no more, there are a lot of images in my mind in which you do some ridiculous thing or the other. You were not inclined to be the wise guy in a crowd. You were always the prankster, and you loved it, along with your friends, when your pranks backfired on you.
But you were special - I knew. The first time you walked into my cabin, you smelt of the village. But there was a twinkle in your eyes that spoke of the cool mountain breeze that keeps you fresh all the same. You held a few exercise books in your hands, as if they were unnecessary appendages that you wanted to get rid of. You had that wicked smile, and the good-for-nothing shrug that many of my students in the school sported whenever they knew what to do next. I remember not trying to smile and watching your smile vanish slowly, giving place to more confusion in your body language. Then I smiled. And you smiled again.
I saw you jumping walls and fences on your way back home. You had a bicycle which was usually used by your friends. You were the son of the soil, always happy to walk lazily around, trot, run, jump up and down. Your friends thought you were crazy, but you had so much of wild energy within you. Once you fell down on a field while trying to jump a fence, just for fun. Everyone laughed when you got up, with grass and mud all over you. You saw me drive past, and you gave me a salute, and that wicked smile. How I wish I stopped by to see whether you were alright. But I knew that you would be alright. You had the right spirits to overcome troubles.
There were things that I didn't like about you. Well, that happens. No matter how hard one fights it, generation gap exists. I wanted you to have second thoughts on your wardrobe. But you would have been a different person, if you hadn't worn those funny clothes. That was part of you. Part of the brilliance you showed in your writing exercises. Your grammar was not perfect, and grasp of language just above average. But I loved your wild imagination. It was something that helped me understand you better, and appreciate your wild, seemingly meaningless acts.
I knew you were honest in your writing, and the pain you had gone through your life was camouflaged in your fantasy world and its strange characters. I knew how much you missed your father who died when you were a toddler, and the elder brother who died before he was born. How extraordinary were your thoughts about your brother, who you thought was a part of you! You had your little anxieties and fears, which you tried to share with him, through your imaginary conversations. Perhaps you found him in all your friends, and were always trying to make him smile. How lonely a kid you were, despite all that tomfoolery!
You never let others know of your fear of death as well. But I knew about it, from the dark passages you wrote. I thought it was normal, for a young kid like you, but you were seeing more than others about your destiny. You seemed to know that yours was going to be a small life, and perhaps you were trying to make the best of it. Your illness came visible only during the last couple of months before it took you away. But you seemed to know everything. Your script of your own life was perfect, I must say. You figured it out the best way possible. You played your part well... Now, it's time for me to wash away my little dislikes, and keep your memory fresh in my mind. Let it sparkle, like your thoughts about the world.
Image Courtesy: http://creativewriting.ie/2012/05/14/2614/