Kiran fidgeted as he waited along with five other people. Of the five other people, he recognised two boys who had been in the same batch as him. ‘These three must be from the new batch then.’

His eyes fell on the two girls and he clucked his tongue. Both of them were from the new batch and were not the one that he wanted to see. ‘Did she really fail?’

Kiran did not get to ponder much on the question as soon after, his teacher entered the waiting area and all his worries about his former friend were forgotten. The grey-haired man, who had guided them for the past year, now guided them to another part of the ashram.

The building that they were brought to was, surprisingly, made of wood rather than mud and seemed more like a collection of wooden cabins rather than a proper building.

“This is where your family is waiting for all of you. Each door mentions the name of the student whose family will be waiting inside.” The saffron-clad man said with a smile. “Go. They are waiting.”

The children ran. They needed no more encouragement and all of them ran ahead, searching for their own names. A few doors opened and cries of ‘mother!’ and ‘father!’ echoed followed by either laughter or crying. And sometimes even both.

It wasn’t until Kiran checked his third room that he found his name and he stopped short. His heart raced, his blood pumped, his bald head felt hot and his palms became sweaty.

The boy breathed deeply once. He then pushed the door open and his gaze fell on a middle-aged couple.

The man was dark-skinned, much the same as Kiran. His shoulders were broad and his face aged. The man lacked a beard but sported an impressive salt and pepper moustache that curled upwards.

His head was wrapped up in a bright red turban while he wore a long white tunic that came to his knees. A red scarf was tied around his waist and his legs were wrapped in a sheet of cloth, in such a way they fluffed out towards the end.

The man had a spear in his hand that he used as a cane to stand.

Besides him stood a woman, who could only be called of common appearance. Although her age had not helped her any, she possessed a grace that defied class and beauty.

She wore a long red skirt and a golden blouse. A red sheet of cloth covered her skirt and then went over and across her shoulder to cover her head. But the vibrant colour was not the most dazzling part of her outfit.

It was the amount of gold jewellery that she was decked in. Each of her fingers was laden with rings while her ears drooped from the weight of the gold earrings. The necklaces on her neck were not one but many and even her hair had pieces of gold sticking in.

The contrast between their appearance could not have been more apparent. But the teen cared not for it. At that moment the teen, who had achieved much and had shed his hair, turned back to the child that had left his home. His lips quivered, his eyes watered and his throat clogged up.

“Mother! Father!” The child ran up to them and hurriedly touched both their feet. He then hugged them and all the emotions that he had been keeping bottled up inside him, burst out as he cried.

The boy was, after all, barely 14-years old.

0.0

The reunion with his parents had been an emotional mess for the young teen. He had wept in his mother's arms and hugged his father as he had sobbed and laughed. His parents had been emotional at first but gradually they had laughed as they had consoled him.

He had told them everything. He had told them about his hut. He had told them about his classes. He had told them about his teacher and he had told them about his failures.

By the time he had been done with his tale, the time for lunch had come and gone by. Thus, the teen decided to take his parents to his hut and have them taste his cooking.

As the three neared the lake, the teen excitedly showcased the beauty of the place. He told them about the time when he had thrown the bucket into the water and he showed them from where he had dug it out.

The teen kept on chatting and the parents smiled but their eyes kept on getting warier in concern. Until, finally, the three pulled up to a patched-up structure of clay.

“This is my home!” The teen ran up the mud structure as he smiled brightly. “I built it two years ago! It almost took the entire month to build. I was originally going to go for a bigger one. But that was too much effort! So, decided to make it a bit smaller. But it was still too big! So, I had to make it even smaller! But it turned out good.”

He turned to his parents with an almost blinding smile. “What do you think? Isn’t it great?!”

The middle-aged couple looked at the small hut. Though, calling it a small hut was being generous, for it was more of a tiny shack.

The mud structure barely came up to the woman’s shoulder and had just enough space for 3 to 4 people to sit inside. If they tried to lie though, at least one person would have to leave the shack.

The walls of the structure were lumpy and uneven as mud and clay had clumped over and over again without any sense of design. The roof was just a single layer of hay that was so porous that even sunlight peeked through.

The sight of the little shack caused both of the parents to go silent with their eyes wide. The woman squeezed the man’s hand with all her might and clutched at her own heart. The man’s heart ached and his eyes threatened to water.

“It is beautiful.” He managed to whisper out as his wife squeezed his hand again. The man lightly squeezed back and nudged her hand.

“It’s truly wonderful, my son.” The woman hugged her child and hid his face into her bosom as she held back tears. “It truly is.”

The man’s heart hurt yet every time he patted his son’s bald head, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at his son’s achievement.

-X-

Within a desolate desert, inside a dilapidated shop, on a simple chair, a youth seemingly slept.

-X-