Homecoming

I miss home.

As I fly towards the home, I relish my childhood.

Even as a child, I’ve been fond of traveling, of exploring. I wander around the town, alone, swinging a jute bag in my hand. My runaway bag.

My mother stitched that jute bag for my school. At the bottom of the bag, I keep a pair of change clothes. Above them, some fruits to eat, and all covered with school books.

On the days I feel gloomy, or on the days I got scolded and beaten, I take that bag and run away for noons and evenings.

My parents get full wasted by the time they find me. They request and bribe me to come back home. If these tactics don’t work—which most of the time don’t—they again scold and beats and drags me home. Equal force but opposite reaction.

Hehe!

When I decided I want to travel everywhere, they again use their tactics. This time, it does not work. My mother cried her eyes out the day I left home. My father stands near her, holding her shoulders as tight as he holds his tears. My four brothers watch me in bewilderment as I walk away, eyeing them, waiting for a good goodbye smile. But all I got was stares and tears.

Every night when I went to bed, I dream of my mother waiting at the door. Her eyes red from crying.

This picture deprived me of sleep. Yet I didn’t stop. This is what I always wanted to do. Wandering is my destiny.

Instead of lying on bed and fighting for sleep, I started spending nights also in exploring. Roaming streets, visiting places, meeting peoples, parties, one night stands, unsatisfied girls. Oh, I loved them all.

But above all, I loved Aychow. What a peculiar name and a peculiar girl. She was the agent of chaos. And I was her sidekick. One week that I spent on that land, we did things I never imagined—pranking, irritating passer-by, breaking laws, following people, kissing strangers, sex in the garden.

It was when she vanished into the blue sky, leaving me blue, I realized I gave all of me to her. But I have only a week of hers. We were fools not to share any medium of contact. And I am a fool to believe that one day, we will meet again.

I peeped through the window, goggling the people small like an ant, moving in masses. Instead of being delighted, I feel troubled. The brown soil I remember has turned gray. In place of hills I used to climb, there are long, thin sticks with black mirrors.

I was in the mid of processing the changes around when the radar of my ship starts blinking. I rushed to the pilot’s seat to look.

A steel bird-like object crossed from above. Two more followed it.

I tried and hacked the radio signal it was sending.

“UFO spotted,” the radio cracked, “waiting for permission to shoot. Over.”

“Permission granted,” the person from the other end said.

The three birds formed a triangle and came rushing towards the ship as if going to collide with it.

Nervous and confused and blanked, I pressed all the buttons which can trigger weapons.

A white flash illuminates from the ship and spreads till the infinity.

When I looked out, the still birds were gone. All the sticks crumbled into gray soil. Ants rushed into the anthill.

I buried my head in palms and wept.

A moment later, three more steel birds approached. Horrified by the destruction I caused, I landed my ship and came out to surrender.

Before I could raise my hand, the birds started spitting metals at me. At first, it was like pinching. Soon it started penetrating. And then comes the blood, slowly, dripping from every hole, warming my whole body. The air around solidifies. Darkness spreads around me.

I lay motionless, blind, dyspnoea, but alive. I tried to cry as my mother still waits at the door, but the tears cause pain. I tried to cry as my father still hold his tears, but the tears cause pain. I tried to cry as I couldn’t see Aychow again, but……...