The Rising Sun

A story about a little boy from India

   The exotic oblivion and an inviting uncertainty of a new infant nation made umpteen families pack up whatever they had, taking with them a tarnished mark which was promised to be mended and restored by this new country. 1947, following the partition of India, the journey began in a small town in Kanpur. A little boy sat next to his father in a spacious veranda, listening to the endless stories of wonders and lustre possessed by this new nation. It was his family’s dream to go there someday and be a part of something bigger. A sense of belonging was all that they wanted. That dream soon became a reality three months later when the little boy and his family finally boarded the ship to Karachi.

  

  The ship was named ‘Dwarka’.  It was a brand new, white coloured ship large enough to have more than a thousand people on board. Bombay port was extremely busy and crowded. The deck was thronged with people from all parts of India.  Each member of every family was holding a suitcase or potli cloth, grabbing on to it with their lives for it was all that they were left with. Porters were hustling and bustling about desperate to carry suitcases for the simple exchange of a few Rupees from people unfit to carry their own burdens. A large number of families were migrating through sea around this time. The riots in Punjab made travelling by train dangerous. There was an uncertainty of life and death not many families were looking forward to. The little boy’s family was one of them. They found adventure at sea far more inviting than an encounter with the rioters and their gandasas.

  It was the first time the boy ever saw a ship. To him it was more than just engines and steel.  It was an unpredictable future and a ray of hope. They were off to a fresh new beginning. The moment he and his family stepped onto that ship, they lost a home and an identity. No more were they a part of the land they were leaving behind. With the eagerness to be accepted by this new infant nation, the three thousand people on board belonged to no one for now, but the unknown waters of the Arabian Sea.

  The journey to a fresh new start however came with exhaustion. It was a long three day voyage that seemed endless. Three tedious days were to be spent cramped up beside unfamiliar faces. The ship was over boarded with countless families who had secured a tiny spot for themselves and their belongings. The smell of the sea mixed with the unpleasant odour of the people spread into every inch of the ship. The little boy and his family somehow managed to board the ship without a ticket along with many others just as desperate to leave. With his brothers and sister, the eight year old boy snuggled up beside his mother, hiding from the ticket collector.

  With just an hour into the journey the ship was greeted by a storm. The ship swayed from left to right with sea water splashing itself forcefully on to the decks. There were no rooms for civilian passengers and sleeping on the deck was not an option. The little boy had to spend his night sleeping on a rolled up dupatta, contemplating the decision his family had made. Was it the right choice to just suddenly pack up and leave everything behind? The memories of him back in Kanpur, sitting under the shade of a sheesham tree watching the other boys playing cricket replayed over and over in his mind. The little boy never played a lot with the local children. He was different from the rest. He preferred reading a good book or just simply questioning the ways of the universe, spending long hourly days in his own little utopia.  Unlike his parents, he felt a connection with his motherland. Would Pakistan be just as accepting? Would the memories he was to make add a similar warmth to his world just like the ones he made in India? With these flashbacks and questions he fell into a deep bottomless sleep that lasted longer than the storm.

  The next day, he woke up to his mothers smiling face. Satisfaction and happiness illuminated her expressions but the boy could not comprehend the reasons for his mother’s emotions. While he saw his life in India perfect, his mother saw an end to her tribulation; whether it was austere social problems or personal misfortunes? The boy never found out. However, he felt the need to entitle himself with a reason to migrate since he had no choice. For the remaining two days, the little boy tried to see the positivity in this migration. Well for starters, he no longer had to worry about the local boys taunting him for being a book worm but no matter how hard he tried to find happiness in his journey, he felt a part of him was still missing. 

  He went up to the deck to breathe some fresh air and to free himself from the claustrophobia dwelling inside the lower compartments. It was late in the afternoon and the sun had already begun its descent. He looked back to see all the water that filled up the distance between him and his home. Those days were gone now. An old childhood that had ended for a new one to be made and the little boy wasn’t sure if he would like the latter. But then he looked forward and saw the sun kindling proudly in the sky and he thought to himself: how could he expect to grow or be successful if he despised the idea of change. Change is important for making the best of one’s opportunities. Leaving behind the past to mould the future can help make one into their ideal self. For the sun has to set for it to rise.

  The little boy had finally found satisfaction and acceptance in his circumstances. Oblivion and uncertainty was just a part of life. To make it worth it a person has to accept it. Acceptance in turn creates satisfaction. Sometimes, one just needs satisfaction to instil positivity and bliss in their milieu. And sometimes one just has to give up and let go of their past to grow into a better future.  This became the little boy’s motivation in his life to come and life in Pakistan did turn out to be just as warm to his heart. Though the little boy never forgot his roots in India, he continued to preach this motivation to others even when he grew up, especially to me. It was one of my favourite things to do; listening to the stories and journeys of this little boy, who had grown up to become my grandfather. 

Reviews

[Jiya]

Honestly I don't know many people who are as adept in writing as you.
I loved the way your story culminated to an end. I'm a huge fan of narratives, reading your writing elated my mind. Indeed the partition was a big mistake. I cannot even imagine leaving the house, the land on which I grew up and start my life afresh. When the Muslims left India, the culture of Delhi changed. The people who left were the blood of Delhi's colourful culture. Now when you take a stroll in old Delhi you only see ruins. It seems as if someone has snatched the voice from the singer's mouth. Just a small whim changed the life of so many people. The sufi culture of Delhi is now alive only in books. Why can't we reverse time and stop this from happening?
Thanks for sharing!

[pia]

Even your review is written so nicely!! Thank you so much

[Surya]

You have a very pleasing way as a story teller, and coming to your story it's more than good, what you said is truth if one believes in it....
Cheers to your Grandfather for great stories, haha....I honestly loved it...:)

[pia]

Thanksss!!!

[Farhan Shaikh]

Title caught my attention and this is really nice story..
Inspiring story..
Well penned

[Wajiha Nayeem]

this is a wonderful story...i really loved it..keep writing!!

[Rubein Geterminah]

Your narrative is good.
Your wittiness is clear to see and feel in the climaxing of the story- The rising sun.
"Acceptance in turn creates satisfaction".; is so true and purposeful.
I'm going to add this wisdom to my everyday life meditation.
Thanks ever so much for this inspiring story.
I will also welcome your reviews of any of my writings Pai.
Happy weekend.
S.R.G

[duff]

I was just talking about this with another writer and sometimes we aren't prepared to seize on opportunities due to timing. If you are prepared then go for it all day because it's the whole cliche of who knows when another will come around again. You can learn from the past but I think constantly looking in the rear view can't be helpful. Awesome job Pia! This was a great read.

[Eliazar]

This story is a really nice reminder of how important it is to embrace the future and let go of the past. You've used the sun as a metaphor very beautifully. I also like how you've used Urdu words, it really helps connect with the culture of the sub-continent. You get better and better with every writing! You go gurl!