Huge raindrops pelted down, in a truly terrifying downpour. Crowds of people ran helter-skelter, panicked; but not one boy, all alone and who was laughing and skipping joyfully. It had been 6 years, since he had last seen a single drop of rain, and 6 years since he had last seen the sky. The word ‘Bliss’ would not be sufficient to describe the state the boy was in…..
And all of a sudden all this was shattered by the sound of a whip cracking. A sound; and a jolt of pain sliced through this illusion. Quite unwillingly, No.977 returned to his day-to-day life. It was an age of child labour, when all children would be dragged for work in government-sanctioned mines. It had been 6 long years since Stefan had last seen a glimpse of the outside world. Every night, he would wait agonizingly the moon to shine through the bars of his little cell. Every night, he would wait for the warden to throw a newspaper into the cell. Stefan would devour every last scrap of information about the world outside, every last bit of information about people with his surname, Bashkir. Over time that changed and, he became who he was – an anonymous orphan – No.977. While most other kids would dream about magical fairies coming to rescue them, Stefan dreamt every night about grassy, lush meadows with dew on the leaves, and rain. He would just begin to taste the drops, when the warden would crack his whip and he was jolted from this fantasy world.
Every day now, Stefan would wake up, be fed two pieces of bread, and work 12 long hours and the wretched mines. For support all he had, was a single pendant given to him by his mother, whose face he had long since forgotten. He would close his eyes and grasp it imagining his mother’s still warm touch on the pendant.
However, one night, he was shifted to a new cell. Without a reason, without an explanation. His new cell mate was a frail young boy, with startling green eyes. The boy looked as though he was one among a new batch of inmates, who still clung to memories of their past. Stefan proceeded to venture “Are you all right?” Met with a stony silence, he did not speak a single word more. As days passed they both showed no sign of even wanting to talk to each other. One night, the warden, casually passed a comment to the other inmate – “Your mother is dead”. The boy did nothing besides bursting with tears. He continued to cry throughout the night, until Stefan, proceeded to comfort him. They built a bond, as he gradually learnt that the other boy , No.171 lost his only surviving family member when his mother died. Armed with a new friendship, proceeded to spend the next day working, until the next night, when Stefan saw No.171 move his bed in the room from its original position and Lo! A huge hole appeared! Alarms blared as panicked guards spotted the gaping hole hidden till now by the bed. No.171 sobbed as he gestured for Stefan to escape also giving him his locket, knowing that it would be the last time he would see him. The last image Stefan saw of No.171 was of him rushing towards a group of armed guards. The image of the guards beating up the hapless kid stayed in his mind till the day he died.
As Stefan climbed out of the whole at the other end, he suddenly found himself on a lush green meadow, with grass on top of which dew drops glistened. All of a sudden, it started raining, as a huge boulder rolling towards him, appeared. Stefan dodged it, to find that the boulder dropped on top of the escape hole, sealing it forever. As the rain pelted, Stefan clutched his friend, No.171’s pendant as he dedicated this shower of rain to his martyred friend. Stefan then trudged forward, a solitary figure in the high hills, armed by the knowledge, that goodness, still existed in his world. Maybe, he could free all his co-workers by organizing a rebellion among the citizens. Maybe, he could reunite with his long-lost family. Maybe, he could depose the corrupt leaders inhabiting the echelons of power. Maybe…