The long journey

It was getting cold. The new place had bare minimum stuffs. They have been here for a couple of weeks.  He was yearning for the warmth of his bed, the secure feeling his wall used to give him, the sound of kids playing in the street, the  vendors shouting their throat off to sell their meager possessions and the aroma of the mom’s food.  His mother's cooking did not have the aroma anymore. His sister was too small to remember the past and his parents were really happy to not to remember the past. They were glad that 2 years of running had come to an end.  It was only he who missed his buddies, the brown sand, the fun associated with the dirt and the happiness related to the scorching sun.  Now even the milk and the water tasted different.

His mother called him to go to the market to get some vegetables. It was cold. He had to dress up for at least 10 minute before he could step out of the house, while he saw the kids play in the street in their tshirts. The neighborhood was clean and he could hear almost zilch sound.  The people looked so different, they smelt different. They spoke a language he did not understand.  His parents have been telling him constantly that the place is safe. He has been o the school only once. Not many kids could talk to him or wanted to talk to him.

He walked hiding behind his mother. The sun was bright outside, he was still feeling cold. There were a few kids playing in a caged football ground. One of the kids was down injured and the football had rolled out of the ground. Involuntarily he moved forward and hit the ball back into the field and quickly ran to walk behind his mother.

One of the kids came outside the caged field and called out and asked him if he would like to play with them. Another kid even spoke the language he understood. The kid felt elated and was not feeling down anymore. He looked at his mother with the hope that she would nod her head.  His mother could sense the excitement in his eyes and slowly nodded her head. In no time the kid ran off into the cage and she sat on the bench nearby. For the past few months he had his football for company and tired the tricks he had once seen. He was never bored of practicing alone, but nothing felt remotely close to playing on the field. It was his field now.

He did not have the shoes to play on this field nor was he in the right attire, but that did not matter. He did not understand a word other boys were talking. The first pass he got, his mind froze and he passed it on to an opponent.  The boys were stronger, but was not about to give up. He took his time to understand the players around him. The boys were all powerful and good athletes, but he was nimble and very fast,  and had the desire to keep running forever. His teammates had slowly started noticing him and see how good he was and he got the ball more often.

The game was getting more and more interesting and passionate. He was slowly but surely winning over admirers. And there was that moment on the pitch. One of the boys won the ball and passed it on him. He evaded a couple of challenges and moved towards the goal. There was another boy running parallel along with him shouting for the ball. He understood for the first time the words he was talking. He waited for the right moment to pass the ball to him to score!!! And he started feeling at home.

P.S: The title is credited to a recent toastmaster speech I had heard.