Science Fiction
Rain
-Farhanaz Farheen,CSE
I think we all need a wamatad.
There is really no point in living a life when
you’re all alone in it. If you have no one to
come home to at night and talk about all the
children you bullied in the street earlier that
day, then what is the meaning of all of this –
all of the stories that people tell other
people? Nothing seems to lead to a certain
conclusion when you can’t tell your
wamatad what you felt when you made that
paper boat and let it swim through the
rainwater. Wamatad will ask, “Did the boat
go far?” And you will answer “Of course it
went far, you silly. The water went on for a
long distance. The boat probably went to
another city and someone else far away is
picking it up to read the message written on
it.”
Wamatad will ask, “You wrote something on
the boat?”
You will smile proudly, “Hello stranger from
the past. I am a paper boat from the future.
The world will end if you don’t wear your
underwear over your hat to office
tomorrow.”
Wamatad will say, “That’s ridiculous and you
know it.”
You will protest, “Which part is RIDICULOUS
about it?”
Wamatad will explain, “Paper boats cannot
travel that far.”
You will get angry then, “You’re telling me
my paper boat is not capable of travelling
through time?”
doesn’t scare Wamatad. The answer will
plainly be, “I never said it can’t travel
through time. I just think it can’t go to
another city. That’s a lot of distance.
Someone might step on it. Why can’t it come
from the future-you to current-you?”
Your fists will relax. But you are still annoyed
because someone questions the idea that
your boat can go far.
You let it go anyway and walk back to your
room. You don’t think sleeping is a good
option for you at that moment. But you’re
still glad that Wamatad’s there, not in the
same room as you are but there – around
you, waiting to give you a shoulder when you
need to let it all out. But tonight you don’t
need to. Because there isn’t anything being
subdued within you like every other time.
You don’t need to. Because you know you
will be getting good dreams tonight. You will
be painting adventures in your sleep and you
already love them. You will serenely float in
air and feel the way you felt earlier when you
were waiting on that bus station. And there
were people around you waiting on that bus
station. You had your regular backpack and
your regular notes of Calculus. You knew
exactly what you had to do right then.
Sometimes it isn’t the rain or the people or
the smell of the soil or the wind on your face.
Sometimes it’s just about how the world
won’t stop spinning. You didn’t wait for the
bus that day after you sailed your paper
boat. You turned around and walked home
with the rain drenching you because you
didn’t want to witness how the swarm of
people had stepped on it only two seconds
after you had looked away. You still smiled as
you danced in the rain. I don’t understand
why. I know I am you. But I still don’t
understand why.
Your cheeks will redden. Your fists will
threaten to pull Wamatad’s hair. But that
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