a joker

A joker…..


He looked back, and everything just started dawning on him. The whole world felt so small from such a height. He wasn't sure if he was still conscious or not but keeping his eyes open felt like a daunting task. The same sun which few hours ago was a savior from the cold wind, was now stripping his self and slowly melting him down. He had very faint memories of his childhood. In fact he had no memories of his childhood. The more he tried to push his mind to the limits, the less clear the picture became, but still some trace was left, the trace that would always remind him that he had a childhood, a pain that he would carry as long as he had no bigger pain to cry upon.

He was on his knees now, may be he was hungry or may be he was too tired after reaching such a high. He rested himself against a tree and started staring into nothingness, the nothingness that was completely his own. He again pressed hard to peep into his past but the pain he was suffering from was immense and everything just started fading into black and then complete darkness.

He was still alive but not conscious of himself, not awake, and still his nerves were searching remains of his dead past. A few dim lights illuminated the corridor he was standing in. He looked like 14-15 years old. He had no moustaches but he surely didn’t look like a kid. A few meters ahead there were many people and the corridor ended into the playground. Yeah! This was his school, the same buildings, the same cathedral and same Miss Mary Fernandez.

Yeah he remembered the first day when Miss Mary had come into the classroom exactly the moment he was trying to mock their new teacher, expecting her to be old and ugly. He was dumbstruck to see such a pretty lady. The pretty lady who instead of punishing him, would just laugh gaily and so innocently that he would dissolve in her laughter.

But there was some pain in her eyes, the way she would pamper him, take care of him, the way she would 'perhaps' love him, made him feel that she missed something in her life. However her presence around always made him comfortable. The school had always been hostile to him, maybe because he was the poorest at everything including his marks, maybe because he was older than all of them or maybe he had always been a character people love to loath.

Miss Mary had been like a fresh breeze in this world utterly full of people who hated him or rather people who he hated. Every word she told, everything she taught, all just seemed perfect. His world just converged into Miss Mary and he didn't want to know if anything else, at all, mattered or not.

He didn’t remember whether he had a home or not, all he knew was school and all he could think was Miss Mary. He would keep staring at her for minutes continuously unless she would leave the class. He would then silently follow her anywhere she went and whenever caught he would make all the excuses in the world. But Miss Mary perhaps guessed it every time and discard the thoughts considering him a kid. This often used to hurt him coz he considered himself ' not a kid'.
Time kept flying and winter holidays arrived. The long holidays which he will have to spend at the school unlike other students who were planning to go home. Their happiness was not measurable; at least for him coz he didn’t know the meaning of going home, he never thought about it, he didn’t have a home and if anything he had at all, then it was the school and his poor boys fund, which kept him in school. And the pain of separation from Miss Mary was unbearable. The whole of month he would be alone again, among the lofty mountains, green forest and his unknown fear.

He lived under a fear; he always lived under a fear…..

The bus departed and so did Miss Mary and he took the long walk back to the dormitory which was almost gravely. The next big task ahead of him was to go on with the holidays and still he had the feeling that something won't let him.


His right arm was severely paining; there was a deep cut in it. He couldn’t believe all that he had been dreaming or had he been dreaming at all….?? It was impossible for him to concentrate at all; the pain was getting to him. Somewhere downhill south, people were shouting but he didn’t care. All he cared about now was knowing himself, knowing his past. He had gone through his life saying he didn’t have a past and even if there had to be one, it would be multiple choice. He always considered his present as his alter ego and no one ever dare tried to open a window that reflected his past; the past that he always profoundly thought did not exist.

And somewhere nearby he could nearby he could hear the flowing stream. He was thirsty but his thirst wasn't limited to the water in the stream. He was missing his teacher, he was missing a life, and maybe for the first time ever he was missing a home. A place where he could run to, a place where he could sleep calmly. He was missing people, he was missing everything that nature had created and he didn’t have…….
He was sobbing and the running river water was taking all his tears and delivering it to Mother Nature. It was taking his prayers, his deeds to Mother Nature.

Miss Mary had once told them" Mother Nature treats everyone equally and whenever we pray directly from our hearts, she responds immediately and fulfils our wishes."

How he knew afterwards that there was no mother nature. There was only darkness in the world. Things were meant to be snatched; they were not given by Mother Nature. And he now knew that there was no beauty to see, only a wish to destroy a beauty. But he wasn't a snatcher; he was a kid, a non- blessed child. He wasn't different from others, he just was like them but when anyone would have been like him, deficient and loveless, and they would become snatchers like him. He wasn’t a snatcher. He was the one who made people laugh at himself. He was a joker.

Miss Mary had returned a month later and his anticipation had overwhelmed him to madness. He would put his head down on the road to hear any vibrations of an arriving bus that could bring Miss Mary. His hands were laden with flowers, all of which meant for her, all of them, even him. He was also a flower, a little immature but full of love and laden with blossom. He had no memories of his holidays either, he didn’t remember what happened in the whole last month, he had Miss Mary back and he chose to ignore the last full month which had vanished like a speck in the sky. Bit how was he to know what impact that last month would have on his life…
"Is Miss Mary the same? She looks prettier than ever before. But what's she wearing? Is this a wedding gown? But what that means? ….she can't marry...I mean how can she… who is he? Arghh…this is not real….this just can't happen...

And he was holding the flowers so hard that it began hurting him. The sound of flowing water was getting to his nerves. It was perhaps noon time but he was now so deep inside the jungle that sun wasn’t so harsh on him. He tried to stand up but he felt as if he had no legs. His knees were on the verge of collapsing. Far East movement was still visible but it all looked like vanishing again into nothingness.

The woman he priorly knew as Miss Mary was now Misses Mary Springfield for him and for everyone except Mr. Springfield. He hadn't felt that bad or perhaps he didn’t know what exactly he felt. But his life had come to a standstill and in spite of all the mishappenings around, the most intriguing thing to hit him was 'the joker' that Miss Mary had presented him and had asked so sweetly to become one and spread happiness like him. How hard would it be for him to be that joker, next to impossible.
A joker that would always be him, a joker that the world would love for what he isn't, a joker who would always wear a mask so that no one knows what his real face looks like….but the joker would always smile even if his insides were crying…..
And his tears won't be carried away to the Mother Nature…coz there was no Mother Nature.


He woke up with a start. He was lying on the floor. He didn’t remember how he reached there nor did he recognize the place. Perhaps the quantity of alcohol last night was too much for him to remember what exactly had happened. Maybe he had been dreaming all night about things that he didn’t remember anymore. He casted a glance at the wall clock and it was 2 in the noon.
He tried to yawn but his jaws were paining. Dry drops of blood were lying on the floor which looked like his. He tried to turn on his back but all the muscles in his body refused from responding. He got a feeling as if he had been paralyzed. His knees were paining so much that if he hadn’t seen his feet, he wouldn’t have realized that his legs were in tact. He tried hard to think about anything but he had no memories; his mind was blank completely like that of a newly born baby. He had no thoughts but he had knowledge. He could tell the difference between a clock and a bottle, he could sense everything. He could feel the coldness of floor; he could smell the air which felt blooded. He could even move his arms and legs which meant he was alive. He knew everything but he had no memories, no thoughts at all. He felt like a zombie, he even knew what a zombie was but he didn’t remember how he knew that. With all his efforts he somehow managed to stand. He threw a look around but the room was empty except for the wall clock and a water bottle. There weren't any furniture either but a large mirror on the opposite wall. He saw his own self in the mirror. He couldn’t recognize the face. He almost fainted on the thought. How could he forget his own face….something had gone wrong..and he had no idea what..someone had brainwashed him or maybe he arrived like this only; grown up full of knowledge and no thoughts.
In the far corner of the room something was lying. He managed all his strength and limped forward to pick it up. It was a joker and somehow in his empty mind he knew that the joker was him….