He lives on...

The child lives. Oh Yes! He lives.

This is a child who no one wants, no one cares about him. But, that’s the point of him being there. He reminds people that they are happy. He reminds them that they are fortunate. He brings them peace of mind, a satisfaction of being something minimum. He gives them a person to despise, a person to ignore for if there is no one to ignore, we will start ignoring the most important people and things, as ignorance is a natural sin.

People come forward to help this child, giving them money, giving them clothes, shelter. They provide him with arm on the shoulder to make them comfortable. The child does not want it. Sure, he needs to feed, he needs to wear, he needs a roof, he needs assurance, but more than that, he needs existence. He can be told by innumerous people, all with selfish motives anyways, that things will get right, he will not be abandoned. The child does not want all that, he needs only a better past. He needs to live his past moments more joyfully, which no one can return to him. Everyone’s future is uncertain anyways, but it is the past that we always regret and want to change. The child knows that, the ones helping him don’t.

The child grows up, with or without help, by begging or stealing, healthy or weak; he lingers on, without purpose or ambition. Survival, maybe, is the only thing he craves for. People still stand on the roadside to lend a helping hand. He chooses to stay alone, everyday sleeping with a burden of his past, scarred by countless despairs. He takes help from people, steals, begs, shares, handpicks from the street, but every night, before going to sleep, what does he think? Is he careless, planning for the next day? Or is he just living in the past? He wakes up with no hope, nothing to look forward to, going for a meager work, sweeping, cleaning toilets, lifting logs, to survive. A life wasted, a life less lived.

When free, which is always, he sits in the shade of the tree if it is for free, with a dog. The dog is happier, because it is not bound by the selfish desires of happiness. It is less complicated for it, survival being the most important of all purposes. The man despises him, feeling fortunate for the company and plays with it. He takes a biscuit out of a packet, breaks in two and gives one part to the dog. The dog takes it gladly, affectionately wagging his tail to show gratitude. But, it can as easily just snatch it from the man and his weak body would yield without fight. But, it is not really greedy. No animals are wicked. They are natural and stay natural. They can only get less animalistic, not more. We can do either. That is our beauty.

The man grows up even more, now with white hair or no hair at all. His bones start to show, trying to come out of the skin, the skin failing miserably to prevent it. The walk is slower, but as he walks down the road, people are still standing there with helping hands on the side, just the faces changed. None of them do it with a smile, the only thing the man cares for now. Each day he wishes while sleeping to never wake up again. When he wakes up, he knows no reason why he still does. No ties, no bonds with the world, no ones to care for, no one to meet or chat with, alone, forever alone. He had thought it before, but the question is more prominent, what did he do all these years? But, does he? Does his conscience ask him this question, as to what useful did he do? Or, maybe he does not think like that at all; all that is alien to him. After so many years, he still unsure if he will fill his stomach or will he make it to the night.

He really did not grow up much despite his breaking bones and loose skin. He never thought in terms of right or wrong, of purpose of life or about getting rich or making it to newer places. He may have, in fact, never travelled beyond the few blocks of his vicinity. He may not even know there is a world outside his own. All this time, he was thinking of only survival, not knowing the purpose behind it, because that is a concern of a less free mind. He is free, free of everything, free of all bad things humans have done, not at all responsible for all the bad that happens in the world. He is innocent, truly the only one. Having not contributed to any evil of mankind, he can truly have a peaceful death. He can go to the grave, which seems unlikely, with absolute peace about no concerns about anything and actually leave the world. But that day is not today.

Today, the life will go on, as it always had. Oh Yes! He lives on.