A Life that Lives

This was the end. It couldn’t be done. The problem was out of the
realm of Harish’s abilities for now.

Harish did not dislike Mathematics; he didn’t like it as well. But he
wasn’t bad at it; he just lacked the natural inclination towards it
which some of his classmates had.

“If he could just put a little more heart into it, I am sure he would
do a lot better and I know he will,” his math teacher would always
tell his parents at PTMs. Harish always felt that in her love for the
subject his teacher just couldn’t see that, Harish just didn’t have
the heart to be put into the world of numbers, for it lied elsewhere,
but in this moment, it was somewhere completely different and thus the
solution to the math problem could not be found or thought of.

“Harish!! …. Harish!!,” the sound of the name echoed through the house
and spread as far as it could in the neighbourhood air before fading
out.

Harish, leaned out the open window. It was his friend Prabhat. Harish
signalled Prabhat to wait and he closed the window, then he closed the
textbook and the notebook next, and lastly, he closed the light and
fan before temporarily vacating the room of his presence.

Harish was awaiting the arrival of this time. He was ready, having
worn his shoes and one of the sets of clothes he usually wore when he
went out to play. Harish rushed to the door to the outside world and
paused.

“Come back home before dark… positively,” said Harish’s grandmother
who by now knew by instinct where Harish was off to at this time and
even Harish didn’t leave before hearing her speak, he even stopped for
it. It had become a part of the few recurring occurrences of the daily
life that existed, lived and breathed in the household.

“I will,” Harish replied as he opened the door.

The air outside.. it keeps moving, day and night, over lands, over
waters, through our lives, through the open windows and doors, but
every time one steps out the door of their house, it feels different.
Harish breathed in this different air before turning to his friend.

Prabhat was patient. He had known Harish for years now and was
familiar and used to these brief pauses of Harish. However, in his
heart Prabhat did contain this wish to understand these pauses…. One
day….

Would this bond hold strong enough to become a lifelong
friendship…?…. Clearly no one knew and could have known.

“Let’s go,” Harish said with a smile as walked to where Prabhat stood
and both the boy’s ran off to continue on with this friendship, this
moment, this life.

Harish’s grandmother stood watching them go through the open door that
Harish had forgotten to close. Indeed, the air outside was different.