Hug man

Now you are going to date back to 1989,Boston. I guess it was a winter time no.. no .. spring.. yes spring Theo it was a Spring time I could see flowers in the park rebirthing, smiling, dancing in the wind even though they knew summer the evil is coming soon. I could watch from my window some kids playing with their friends happily and some misses snow; so I am. I too misses the snow, the winter climate is my favourite due of the cool breeze that falls down on my face. At evening, the tea smell that travels to my nostrils from the corner indian couple house made me fascinate.. snow is with us for a long time and It’s not a new thing.. but I don’t know why my jaws are dropping down in amusement everytime when I see snow flakes. The reason I think is due to the antonyms of partially they show.. you can ask me 

“Hey winter lover, why not you go outside and joy”

Sorry folks I can’t, my whole body is paralysed except my head and my left hand.. it happened long back ago when my close friend max brought a brand new Ford Taurus SHO car and he let me drive on the mountains but that one drive, that one bad turn ruined his and my life completely; he died at the spot and they put me into the wheelchair for 40 whole years; wheelchair is a more painful one than the dead; lucky max… my only company for last 40 years is the window and an old lady who comes has a care taker after my parents died.. No television, no radio, no shits.. she is the only person who touched me, clean me, feed me, change my diapers and cares me like my mother But, I didn’t speak to her if you ask me why? Because I have nothing to speak with her and truly I didn’t get topics, you know..to me speaking and replying to a woman is like understanding the language of newborn baby; it’s very complicated. It leads to only anxiety and stress. Not only women also the visitors.. god damn.. I don’t know why these visitors only show the pages of sympathy and my ear turned deaf for these two sentences “don’t worry everything will be all right” and “Don’t worry god is with you, always.” 

I thought of saying “ go and fuck yourself. "

Nobody knows, how many times I decided to end my life with all possible sharp objects but every time my inner soul that un-paralysed 30 years old man comes in front of me and says “no..never do that.. don’t be a false motivation” after hearing that from him every time I dropped the object and go back to sleep… 

Every day by watching at the outside world from my window, I get crazy and surreal images; because my thoughts is the only thing which is un-paralysed.. right? By thinking of those my eyes followed a man with brown hair, grey half-handed shirt and black pajamas.  who is heading to the park and sat under the fountain in that dark stroked shadow.. I could see him writing something on that cardboard and placed it straight towards me; straight as an arrow.. my eyes couldn’t read those words; it was small.. so I call the caretaker to read. She rushed to me with the plate of semi-chopped vegetables.

She asked, “sir? “

“Can you come and read me this” 

She came near me and laughed after reading it 

I asked, “why are you laughing?”

Her cheeks turned red because of her laughing out loud then after a few seconds she stopped her laughing and said “he wrote per hug 2 dollars..(she chuckled) a new way of getting our money.. poor thing” she turned and walked out from the room

After hearing her.. I didn’t laugh, I just saw his actions with my frozen eyes; it felt new. Because I am tired of seeing those Mens who are rushing to the job every day and lovers lip locks, busy roads, busy parks, busy.. busy.. busy.. but he is not busy, he is like me. We have similarities he sat under the fountain; I sat in the wheelchair. He need hugs; I need empathy. He is just asking hugs to cure his loneliness… i gazed at him meanwhile Boston is enveloped by the moon surrounded by the uncountable stars eventually he lay down to get some sleep under the fountain; his first day is a failure; he got no hugs. More than he, I am sad. I go to sleep with half heart suddenly my room was flashed by the lightning and heavy thunder followed by; it was like the world’s last day but my mind is fully covered by one question

“What will he do now does he run to the safe place, or he stays there?” By mind is keeping on grinding this question, and my sleep is now snoring, but I am not. The next day emerges.

Caretaker opens the door slowly like a thief and whispers “good morning, sir”. I didn’t reply I didn’t take my frozen eyes from that window, she slowly comes towards me she thought I was dead on the sleep, when she reaches my bed I blinked and said.

“Take me to the window”

She lifts me up and put me on the wheelchair.. he was not there; I was waiting for him till the sunset but he didn’t arrive. Spring goes away, summer comes in…

Blossom Flowers, well-branched trees dried, and the sun baked us; now Boston is in the over-heated oven… nobody is there on my site, the road is empty; the park is empty and people is now hugging their own air conditioners; tightly…

Hugging… I miss him, i took this word from my dictionary after my mother dies... But he brings it back. where is he? He is not here… he is not in the Boston..so, where is he?...my eyes keep on searching him. Finally My eyes got that man I’m was waiting for, but my mind took a second to recognize him --- yes he is back to that park and sat in the same place and place the cardboard has before.. I was very happy… but he is not. He just saw his both sides empty he lilts down his head; he is losing his hope. What can I do now 

Can I call him from my window “hey hug man, where do you went?” No.. that will make his actions cautious, he will lose his naturality so I swallowed that idea... I’m waiting for that bulb to glow in my brain. 

“Can I write him a letter, a hope giving a letter from a hopeless paralysed man” I love that idea.. but how can I write my right hand is motionless, you know what? In my school days I will get seven gold badges every week for my handwriting. Those are older stories, but what can I do now? I Never tried to write on my left hand, my mom used to scold me if I do or take anything from the left hand so I completely forgot that I have a left hand. I will get to remember only when I clean my poop with the tissue paper. But now I have no other options so,

“Let’s see how bad it is” I called the caretaker she again rushed to my room “sir?”

“I want papers and a pen” I said it by seeing her blue eyes. After two minutes she came with the small table, a bundle of plain white papers and a shiny green Montblanc pen to write. She placed it near my left hand and made me to grab the pen; that remembered me of my mother

I said “thankyou” for the first time and I saw her blue eyes turned wet that’s also for the first time, she just nods her head and moved out from the room. 

Straight away without thinking I wrote; sorry scribble. The letters I wrote was like a Picasso painting companion with doodles. Even I can’t understand a word from that. It will not give him hope, it will make him angry. So, I practiced the alphabets using my left hand. 

“A” comes worse, but “B” comes even more worse. Thank god C comes well.. I grinned to myself.. some alphabets comes good, some not. mainly H is unbearably worse to be open it was like a vomit on the paper. It remembered me of max’s handwriting he will always get scolding from the teachers for his bad hand writing and they will show me has an example for the hand writing.. if the teachers comes now and see my hand writing they will say “max is better.”

 I keep on trying H, because it will be the most using  word in the letter at last it came right --- Ugh!!. semi - right. So I crushed all the alphabet papers and threw out of the window and immediately after a huge exhale I start to write the letter.

“Hey hug man, 

     

       I am fine you? “

 Fuck it, it looks very formal without a soul so I straight away crushed the paper and throw out of the window. After that only I come to know that not only my body turns motionless; my writing skills too.. well, in my school days my wardrobe will be dumped with prize cups and barges. I don’t know what happened to me.. I didn’t get any words to write. So to get some inspiration I started read a book “Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl” it was speaking about the purpose in life and positivity.. after reading 10 pages I get a Spark to write so I kept the book in my lap and took the pen and wrote.

“Dear hug man,

  

    I know the days you spend under the fountain are not easy at all, I am seeing you from window.. to find me just lift your head up ---- “

No… no.. I crushed that too and thrown out.. again I read the book with glowered look. 

Summer goes by, my winter comes in.. I didn’t enjoy that winter because till now I didn’t write a word in the letter” at the same time I read the entire book. Only the children give him a hug; he is also not getting money from them... his hope is not with him now it is far, perpetual to touch, to grab, to feel. He is now becoming like me; a duplicate 

When I was thrown into the wheelchair, I was losing my hope every day in a larger amount. I don’t want him to lose it; I don’t want that to happen. For that I took the pen and wrote

“Dear hug man

   

    You resemble me; I was been thrown into the wheelchair when I was 30, now I am 72. I don’t know what lead you under the fountain to ask hugs for 2 dollars… but I can understand your loneliness. I have been gazing you for over 2 years.. every day when I am seeing you, your eyes is losing hope and your head is lilt down.. I did the same thing.. don’t do that. it will lead you to end ---- “ I lost consciousness and I can feel that my pen is falling down from and my hand. eyes is going upwards and my hand shivers; wheelchair losses control; I felt down.

When I woke up, I hear a voice of echo “he doesn’t have more days, take care”.. after two days in hospital I went back to my house. She cleaned me up and put me near the window. He is not there.. he was gone even the fountain was gone it was been carved out from the park; I am in a shock. I took the paper and the pen that fell down. I read it once. It looks unfinished, so I thought of completing it. I wrote.

“ Stay with hope where ever you are

 Whatever the situation is

 I will miss you my dear hug man

If you want to find me come back to that fountain and lilt your head up

When this reaches you I may or may not to be alive” 

I fold the letter. Suddenly a heavy wind blows up. It took my Letter It was waving in the wind; I meant to catch it, but no chance of getting it. 

My faces turned pale; I could catch the winding paper only in my tear-filled black iris. That Paper gone from my sight; forever

“Folks”

“You heard everything from me”

“Please, if you see that letter anywhere around you”

“If you’re not busy, if you’re interested, if you’re done with your own battles”

“Please find him and give it to him but don’t forget to say”

“Hope is everything”


                          THANK YOU

                                           Yours Hopeless Man

                                                      Albert