Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 3 2018 | Page 330

Scriptures of Happiness
St. Paul's Convent School, Cheung, Ka Yu Katrina - 15
T
here are many things for one to do, to accomplish in life. For some, it might be as big as to become
a world leader, and for some, it might be as little as to be able to buy an 800 feet apartment in a
congested city. Though greatly rewarding as happiness is, it silently slips past our sights as we edge
our way through the troubles of life, and happiness seems to be more and more of but a luxury to us.
How can we find happiness amidst the rolling waves?
I had been pointlessly strolling on one of the many crowded streets of India for the past week,
desperately trying to find inspiration for an upcoming photography exhibition. As a photographer for a
luxury magazine, I could not find anything here which piqued my interest; at every corner I turned, I only
saw crowds large like sewer rats flocking to food; in every direction, I only saw cars behind cars. As if to
cover their plainness, many colourful billboards were put across buildings, but none seemed attractive to my
eyes.
How can India be happy under such poor conditions?
The noise of shouting salesmen and horning cars faded away as I walked into a relatively quieter
street. I breathed in deeply, wanting to keep the rare tranquillity to myself. Sadly, the moment was cut short
by a rough yell. My breathing was also cut short as stone fists were thrown at me. I fell to the ground. Air
left my lungs. I tried to fight back, only to become more vulnerable to their attacks. My vision began to
leave me. The world turned dark, turned black, like void.
When I opened my eyes again, night had already fallen. Above me was a ceiling I could not
recognise; had I been kidnapped? I was not tied up so–
“Ah, you’re awake! Ma almost thought you’d die with all those wounds.” A voice disrupted my
thoughts. “I saw you all bloody on the street as I was driving home, so I took you here. Can’t leave
someone injured on the street, y‘know?” He continued in an ebullient tone. How could he be so happy
looking at an injured stranger?
I tried to sit up but winced in agony.
“Don’t try to move too much or your wounds might worsen, at least that’s what Ma said. Rest up
for the night ‘kay?”
The door creeked, signalling his leave and me falling into a dreamless slumber.
After I woke up with a clearer mind, it did not take long for me to realise all my belongings were
stolen away when I blacked out.
Oh no.
My passport.
I was stuck there.
Stranded.
Worried was not enough to describe my emotions, my mind or my heart. It felt like I was being
thrown into a dark hole of despair with no way of getting out.
“Hey! I brought-” The man I saw yesterday came into the room with a tray of dark brownish
liquid in a bowl. I frantically grabbed his shoulders, causing some of the liquid to spill.
“Lost my passport! What can I do?” I was so shocked that I could not form coherent sentences.
“We can…contact the embassy! You came here legally, right?” He half-heartedly joked.
That’s right, the embassy! How could I forget! I calmed myself down (I tried my hardest) and took
in my surroundings. The window frames and doorframes were adorned with traditional Indian patterns
mainly of red, white and green on beige walls. The room was not big but spacious enough for a bed that fits
for two, which I was sitting on. A rusty iron fan was nostalgically hanging on the beige ceiling. It was easy
to tell that the owner of the house was not the lucky ones among the wealthy. The Indian man in white
sherwani, who was now sitting on the ground, had dark combed back hair and a Tilaka on his forehead.
I switched my attention to the bowl of rather nasty looking liquid and raised my brow.
“Ma’s homemade herbal tea. Good for your wounds! Though it doesn’t seem like you need it. ”
He smiled brightly.
I hesitantly drank the bitter liquid while he was rambling on. It was mostly useless information. I
learnt that his name was Sahil, and that apparently his whole family, which was “absolutely huge”, lived here
as well. One thing I did not understand was that why the thieves did not snatch my camera as well.