Today we will tell you a story about a boy… a boy different from others. Long ago in the deep valleys of Himalaya lived a family. Their home was a tiny shack which wasn’t visible until you waded through a thick forest of pine and supine trees, across the river, over the bridge, under the canopies, dark green….
In the family, there was a Daddy who worked till late in the evening and came back everyday with absolutely nothing! God knows what he used to do. There was a mommy who was always busy in the kitchen, making noises with the utensils, pretending to work without doing anything other than avoiding to spend time with the boy!
This was the boy’s world. He had a fixed routine. Go playing outside but not across the bridge, go near the river but don’t put your feet in the water, go do something but, don’t touch anything. It was the life he knew.
People used to like him for his obedience, he never crossed the bridge; neither his Dad ever talk anything about crossing the bridge. It was an unsaid rule. He never played in water; neither did his mum tell him to fetch a pale of water; not even any discussions about Jack and Jill going up the hill, no nothing.
It was a small sweet world till they had to send the boy to the other side of the hill for further studies. The other side of the hill was unknown, there were no bridges or rivers; but there was a lake and a boat, there was a cow and a goat. He hadn’t seen all this ever. Being so imaginative, he had imagined all these things and luckily things were exactly the same as he had daydreamed. The boat could float and the goat could gloat.
(To be continued)