Story of a Cloud

I've woken up to the realization that I'm floating... high above the earth, and the view is amazing. I see green valleys, meadows, tiny bubbling springs, and the ocean from where I was born. Strange that I do not feel the pangs of separation as I leave the ocean behind to soar above the earth borne on fast winds. But I am young, and the vistas are tempting. I am driven by the urge to see everything there is to see of this beautiful earth. I am young. I have no responsibility - no destination. All I was made for was floating and lazing about, drinking in the sights and quiet of the amazing earth... and growing fatter.

Soon, I leave behind the green hills and cross over to the other side. There are cities here - people are so busy! I almost feel guilty to be the only one up here who has nothing to do, but change shapes and float over the messy problems of city dwellers. Not one eye looks up at me or admires the beauty of my ever-changing shape and color. I can't stop though. I am disinterested, and I'm floating on.

I'm passing over a vast plain now. I've grown fat, so the wind is having a tough time trying to toss me around! My feet are sluggish. I look down. Not a speck of green anywhere - its so arid, so dry. Here and there, I see scattered huts. People too - looking desolate as they toil... trying to make life spring forth from a dead earth. Time and again, they raise their eyes to the sky as if in prayer, shielding their eyes against the harsh glare of the sun. Children cry as their mothers ration out water from the mud pots. Farmers are looking up at me. I see their eyes. They are dead eyes - eyes that have given up hope. I hear a sorrowful moan, and feel a pang of intense grief. A dehydrated infant is staring up at me. My heart grows heavy. I can't bear to see this suffering, and yet what can I do? I am but a cloud.

I try to float on, but can't. My feet stay rooted to the spot. I can't ignore the pain of these poor people - their struggle.

Suddenly, huge drops fall on the parched earth and people look up in surprise. To my dismay, I realize that I'm crying, and its my tears falling on the earth. The earth seems to soak them up like a sponge.

"Rain, rain!" The cries of surprise and joy bring out more people. And as I look at them through my tears, I find the desperation on their faces being replaced by hope and joy lights up their faces! They are happy! That's a little strange, only I can't think about anything right now. My heart is bursting. And I can't seem to stop my tears. I can't explain it.

And when I finally stop crying, I see all these happy people grinning up at me, and I realize... that in feeling their grief, grieving for them, and bringing their smiles back; my identity... my being is lost... forever.

The loss of my being has brought smiles of joy on the face of hopelessness... and I, as a cloud, am no more.

(This was part of a Hindi essay I had written when I was in school, I think in class V. My mother has preserved it somewhere, and I hope to post it soon... in its original and much better version. I didn't know how I could write like that at that age. I guess, children tend to be profound, and we are much better philosphers as children than we are when we grow up.)