The Search

On a table lay a jumble of unusual objects, much like his thoughts. An upturned bottle of ink, with it's purple hue that was casually spreading through the pages of an old book, just sat there on the table, with no one bothering to keep it upright. He seemed distant, distant from his work and his family. Eh, what family? He had nobody then, and to get away from his traumatising past, he had decided to come on this trip to Switzerland alone, but even here, he was not able to find what he actually wanted to.

The light snow outside his hotel window had turned into a storm, while his room had an eerie silence. Light opera music played in the background, while he just sat at the table, looking for answers, looking for a plot. His last book had barely sold a hundred copies, and he was now determined to write a bestseller. His table conveyed the state of his mind, with cigarette butts lying everywhere but in the ashtray, and balls of crumpled paper thrown around. His room was in a mess, but he didn't bother. All he needed was some inspiration, but he was unable to find it. Like an abandoned sailor from a shipwreck, his beard was long and unruly, and his hands were trembling. He couldn't get any sleep, in spite of having the softest mattresses one could have. After all, how could he? His past was the nightmare that always came back to haunt him.

Six months back, life was different ,life was beautiful. The only woman he had ever loved was his wife, and he had taken up writing as a career, chucking aside his corporate job and chasing his true passion. She was the one he trusted the most, with access to all his secrets. A tough gentleman for the world, he was an innocent little boy around her. They talked for hours all day, and celebrated their love in every way possible. He loved her most because it was only her before whom he could actually be himself. However, all it took was one morning for all love to turn into spite. That horrific day, the 11th of January, he vividly remembered, was the day she left him. Without a word, without any information, just a note that he had found on that morning, which said,-

"I am leaving you. I do, and always will love someone other than you. Please do not try to find me. I'm sorry.

~ Love, Helen. "

That's all he had. Two sentences, and an apology from his "true" love. Of course, he didn't believe it at first, but as the dawn of the next morning approached, he convinced himself she wasn't going to return. He didn't know what to do, as he just sat, waiting for her to come back, waiting for life to become beautiful again. His wait was futile, and soon enough he resumed his life, this time determined to do it alone, without trusting anyone. Thus began the restlessness in his mind, looking for something. He did not know what, but he knew he had to find something.

It had been a long time, but his mind was still in turmoil. He had no plot for his next, and he just kept looking for an inspiration. He had explored all of Switzerland on this trip, but had ended up wasting both his time and his money. He was to return home today, and he ushered all his belongings in his suitcase and left for the airport. Home didn't feel like home, nor did any part of the world. With that steely look in his eyes and a sense of melancholic confusion in his heart, he boarded the plane. He was staring outside the window , when suddenly a tiny hand tapped on his shoulder. He looked behind, and saw a young little girl of three or four, just staring at him longingly. " Could I get the window seat , please?", asked the girl. The man exchanged seats without any emotion, while the girl gleefully jumped up and down at the window seat. The airhostess came to inform him that this little girl was travelling alone, and she may need some assistance during the flight. His mind was still somewhere else, but his head reluctantly nodded.

After take-off, this girl poked him with her tiny hand again and asked, " Uncle, why are you so sad? Mother says we must never frown. Why are you frowning? " He was taken aback at first, just to see a little girl ask him something nobody in this cruel world had. He did not reply, but this girl was no quitter either. She asked him the same question again, and kept pestering him until they actually did start talking. "I need an idea for a book I am going to write, but I can't find it", said he. The girl jokingly replied," Why don't you write a story about me, the cute little girl you met in an airplane?" His mind desperate for fresh ideas, he decided to go ahead and listen to the stories this girl had. It wasn't long before the seemingly mature adult became a little innocent boy himself, as the two now exchanged childish tales and happy memories. He hadn't found such a patient listener ever, besides his ex-wife, and the two kept exchanging tall tales of gossip, gaiety and love. After a long 5 hours of innocent giggling and grave sighs, the little girl grew tired, and finally proclaimed," I'm going off to sleep. Wake me up in a while, Alright? ", and with her head resting on his shoulder , the girl went off to sleep . These stories, the laughter they had shared in the last meagre hours seemed to have given him strength and made life beautiful again, something six months had failed to accomplish. And as the girl exhaled little breaths from her tiny nose on his shoulders, showing utmost trust in her newly found companion, he realised that he had finally found what he had been searching for all this while. Not a plot for his book, not anything material, but a friend. Just a friend.