Aman

Everything seemed chaotic - everything.
The summer evening breeze which was soothing, those leaves which rustled and get swept away involuntarily at the slightest hint of a whistle from the trees or for that matter the sweet cackle; it seemed as if the whole universe came together to mock me and make me feel more pathetic.
Aman walked out of the room, walked on the graying grass in the garden, opened the gate, brushed it aside and walked onto the street. Thoughts cluttered his mind and with a foggy vision, he walked and walked as a turtle would. He did not realize that his arm was bruised and bleeding a little, until told by a passerby.
Aman then, coming back to his senses, realized that he wasn’t wearing his shoes even.
“How did this happen, Aman?” asked the lady at the medical store. She was an acquaintance since a decade. A neighbor and a medical consultant too, she knew me well.
“No idea!”
She attended the external bruise while trying to get a grasp of his internal hurt.
“It seems as if you brushed against something. Was it a wall or the rusted gate at the entrance?”
Aman was silent for a while. He lifted his face and his eyes met hers.
“The gate, aunty”
“…and what has hurt you in person?”
A tear rolled down his cheek and he slumped into the seat which was placed nearby. Mrs. Sharma did not press any further. She waited for Aman to speak and he spoke.
“I feel left out aunty… lonely and forlorn. It seems as if am staying in a hostel and not at home. Father stays away from home for months together and mother too, is engrossed in the business he has set up for her. Except for a late night dinner meeting and an early morning wish, we don’t meet.”
“What about your friends dear?”
“Raman and his parents are away, on a vacation to Rameshwaram. Emanuel and his mother have gone to his grandfather’s place in Chennai and here I am, restricted to my room, my laptop, a TV and a lot of other facilities which are not human!”
“I got your point Aman. Why don’t you drop in to my place on weekends or whenever you feel like? Rahul and Prisha will be happy to meet and spend time with you. As you know they are just one year junior to you.”
Aman nodded.
For the next few days, Aman was engrossed in the company of his neighbor’s twin siblings- Rahul and Prisha. They solved Sudoku, played board games, solved math’s and science puzzles, helped each other solve holiday homework’s and danced as if possessed. Their grandmother prepared lassi once in a while or aalu paranthas as per demand and even became a part of their fun time.
Aman eased himself. He was happy. He wasn’t contended though.
He felt the chasm even then.
“We are planning an outing Aman, accompanying us?”
“Thank you Rahul. I can’t…”
“Of course yes dear. We will!”
Aman turned around as if he were a merry go round swung with full force. It was his mother’s voice. Where did she come from? At this hour, how?
“I have appointed a manager to take care of my shop Aman. I was missing you too.” said his mother and hugged her surprised teenage son who was standing as if he was playing “Simon says” and was instructed to stand like a statue.
Her embrace softened him and he responded with the same warmth.
“Am I dreaming or is it real?”
His mother pinched him and he winced in pain. “Real. Isn’t it?” she said with a smile on her face.
Mrs. Sharma tiptoed in. She saw Aman once again. This Aman was her neighbors’ son. The Aman she met on the other day wasn’t him. He was a lost child. Today, Aman was Aman Verma – the boy she knew.
“Sharma aunty came to my office the other day and told me everything. I failed to realize that I was just getting sucked into the world of business and money. Unaware and foolish I was.”
Aman wiped off his tears as a toddler would and questioned with curiosity, “no more office?”
“I will, but, twice a week. That’s all.”
Smiles later, all of them sat for a cup of evening tea and snacks. Aman was now a contended teen.
That weekend, Sharma’s and the Verma’s went out trekking.
Amans’ father joined them via video conferencing and it was a family reunion which Aman was looking forward to.
It wasn’t just one Sunday but every other day which had something to frame and remember. Mrs. Verma decided to take Aman along on days when she had to go to office. This helped him to learn business and help his mother.
Their bonding grew stronger. Whenever he crossed the street, he ensured that he met Mrs. Sharma – the lady who was the reason behind the happiness at home. The gate was repaired as well. The garden bloomed and the happiness boomed within the four walls of Aman’s home.