over the rainbow.

Dear Readers,

Here's another short story, taking a melancholic and introspective tone.

Mighty sojourners
Drifting among troubled worlds
Peace be unto you.

And then we all think
Whether they be
among us.

The Straight Times Editor


Meditations

Drifting amid the glaring beeps of the traffic light at the pedestrian crossing and the grudging slide of the sleek glass doors to the library, his mind found momentary pause for thought.

The perch that he patronized – a corner of a long ledge running parallel to the library walls, sheltered by pampered saplings and favorite of privacy-loving couples despite the tropical outdoor heat and incessant air-con whirr – had become his own philosophizing corner over the past few days. Or it might have been weeks. Endlessly listless holiday life seasoned with unhealthy doses of school orchestra practices (the competition was next April, for crying out loud) had long since blurred the already faint time-boundaries that were allotted to the year-end holidays. Still he managed to squeeze minutes from breaks, lunch-times and sometimes even the half-hour afforded to him (if he walked fast and left the house early) to slip to the library, sit in his beloved spot, and think.

Thoughts that filled these days were mostly heavy. A born optimist, he hated to call them depressing. But bits and pieces of confidential information that found their way to his ears from various sources – roughly half were first-hand – never failed to give him food for meditation. He heard daily of diehard-romantic whinings, first-date apprehensions, school-clique troubles and work-passion dilemmas. Of the obsessions, confessions, and confusions that plagued those around him. Of get-togethers and break-ups.

And he took it all in, especially those that were confided in him. Many told him he was a born counselor, and he tried his best to live up to him in dispensing whatever advice he could, trying his best not to sound clichéd or harsh, neither of which attempts were always easy. He took in the rumors too, drawing links, forming conclusions, making little private predictions of his own that he tested, in time, against reality.

As he thought about everything he’d learnt, or rather absorbed, over the past weeks of listening to others and lending his bony shoulders to those who needed support, he realized that life was more often than not about the couples, the success stories, the beautiful relationships. That the community rejoiced over whichever hunk and babe had managed to get attached (sometimes every other week), but rarely paid attention when they split, sweeping the incident from view like so much dirty linen. And even less attention was paid to those like him, counselors, confidants, who somehow never managed to heed their own advice and find someone of their own.

He felt a twinge of envy, then regret, at this point. Perhaps he shouldn’t be feeling this way. Probably he was worrying prematurely, after all, he was only fourteen. “Ah, but you’re going on fifteen!” his other, willful self chided him. But nobody’s occurred to me yet. “Oh, really? How about Clara, then?” Ouch, a sore spot. But she fell in love with James, shouldn’t I let them be? “Wouldn’t you have liked to be with her, then?” Well, maybe, but she’s happier that way. “But you aren’t happy, aren’t you?” I want her to be happy!

On and on the battle raged, knocking questions in his soul – filled, somewhat, with the burdens of others – that he somehow couldn’t answer. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to confide these problems in others. Maybe it would be a sign of weakness on his part. The image of a counselor who couldn’t solve his own problems didn’t appeal to him. He guessed he was born to bear them, patiently. Not everybody had the strength to carry their own burdens and help others at the same time, right?

Suddenly guilty at his last thought, his mind fell silent. He was probably just being proud. Or overly concerned of his image. Whichever was worse. But then again, seeking help for himself had never seemed an option for him. He’d have to pray about it. It probably didn’t occur to others that counselors had problems, too. And that was painful. But if he was to be a counselor he would have to bear with it. Then again……

Thinking, he lifted his blue corduroy bag and headed towards school.