Boy Who Reached For The Sun

The Boy Who Reached For the Sun
-Saurab Lama

The clock strikes 7, it's time for my flight now. As I look at the airline ticket in my hand, everything flashes back at me…

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"Easy, easy!! Let your hands feel the brush….easy, yeah, that's better!" "Are you sure this is how you're supposed to paint?" "For me, yes, but I can't tell how many people paint this way…it doesn't matter though, as long as you can feel your painting." "Feel your painting? What's that supposed to mean?" "This is going to sound really cheesy, but, it means to be passionate about your painting, to be one with your work…someday, you'll be really passionate about something and it'll be completely up to you to decide what you want to do about it. Remember that, ok?"


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I still remember my uncle's words, to this very moment. And he was right; I am now at that exact same place where my uncle had said I'd be at all those many years ago. He told me that it'll be up to me to decide what'll happen to me, nobody else, but is it really how it works? I'm confused, completely…


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"So what did you choose?" "Me? I decided to follow my heart….and I have no regrets." I knew he was telling the truth. He was happy from the inside. He didn't earn much; after all, how much do painters really earn, yeah? But there was something inside him that forbade him from losing hope, ever. He's a really cool person, a really good person; I can go on and on. He is someone who's much respected in my tole here, a really down-to-earth guy. Everybody loves him. Whenever there's any problem, people (from little kids to senior citizens) come to my uncle and he would help them in whatever way possible. I really look up to him…he is my idol; and someday I'm going to be a painter, just like him.


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I still vividly remember the first painting I ever made. It was a painting of a house with the four of us, daddy, mommy, me and my uncle. And since then, I have always had the dream of one day having my own art exhibit in this beautiful city, to show all my work to all those who appreciate art. I had only told of my dream to my uncle, nobody else…that probably was the biggest mistake I ever made.


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"You know, uncle. It's very weird, whenever I show one of my paintings to my father; I don't find him being as happy as he is while he is having a look at my report card." "Yeah, I've been there myself, but that's what a story for some other time, ok? Besides, that's what father's do, they appreciate good report cards!!"

Time and time again, I would go back to my uncle's place to show him my report cards with the big "1st" written on the rank column. He would congratulate me heartily and would also give me something as a reward; the first time it was a Dairy Milk chocolate bar, then, as I grew, so did the gifts. He once gave me a huge book on painting when I was in the 8th grade. Inside the cover, there he had made a painting of me as a little child reaching out to the sun; it was beautifully painted and so colorful, and you know what, someday I'm going to paint as good as him.


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Now, as I'm packing my baggage, I catch a glimpse of the very book my uncle had gifted to me, when I was in the 7th or the 8th grade, I'm a little confused. Inside, there's a painting my uncle had made of me trying to reach out to the sun; the colors have faded now…and sometimes I wonder, have I really given up on reaching out to the sun? My dream of becoming a famous painter, have I given it up? I don't know…have I?


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On my uncle's 40th birthday, I painted him a portrait of a middle-aged lady I had met while sitting at the park. She was beautiful, indeed. Actually, I was aiming to get my uncle to date her. "So, what do you think?" "Beautiful!!" "You mean the painting or the pretty face?" "What do you think?" "The pretty face, you like her? She's single too!!" "I meant the painting, idiot!" "O O!! Someone's blushing, huh, I can seeee!!! Hey uncle, one quick question, aren't you going to get married? You're getting old; bring home an auntie for me, please!!" "Oh, I don't need to marry anybody, I already have the love of my life with me…" "Huh!? Who's she?" "Art!! Now my turn to ask you a quickie, what do you want to be when you grow up?" "That's easy. A famous painter, of course!!"


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"A painter, of course!!" 'Easier said than done' is what I'd tell that kid if I heard that now, that's for sure. What did he know?? He couldn't even tell of the fear that his dear uncle had when he asked that little kid that question. Oh, uncle, you knew all along, didn't you? You knew just how tough it was going to be to make that decision, didn't you? What didn't you warn me, uncle? Why? If you had told me that before, I never would have become 1st every time in class, I wouldn't have been such a good student, uncle!! I just wanted to be like you…just like you…


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Sometimes during my visits to my uncle's, I would find him coughing heavily, or even lying in his bed. I thought he was just tired or sleepy, you know. But on one dark day, while on my way to my uncle's, I saw many people, whom my uncle had helped before, all gathered there. I couldn't understand anything. My father came to me and told me that my uncle needed me; I went and there I saw him, smiling weakly at me. "Remember what I said…" that was all he could manage to say…and those were the last words he ever spoke.

It turned out that he had been suffering from cancer, a quite treatable one, in fact. My father and all others wanted to help him out, but he just refused. Oh! He was always trying to show his determination, he always told them that he wanted his help only, nobody else's; he worked hard, finishing at least three paintings everyday, he overworked. Why did he have to be so stubborn!? I miss him, dearly…

Ever since my uncle passed away, I feel lost; like I have lost my light to guide me in the darkness. I have lost my path, uncle. Guide me!! Guide me please!! Can you hear me??


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My life never became the same again. I lost the only person who ever saw me paint…now there are only people who see my brilliant report cards, people who are willing to do anything to make me a great doctor, even as far as buying me ticket to the USA and paying the tuition fees at Harvard…I am not the same, I'm just like a lifeless puppet now…


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The clock strikes 7, it's time for my flight now. As I look at the airline ticket in my hand, everything flashes back at me. I have the ticket in my hand, but the love of art and my uncle are in my heart. I stare at the ticket; I think I took a year long look at it. I decided. I'm not going anywhere; I will tear this damn ticket…uncle!! Huh, uncle!! You're here!! Say something!! I see the same moment before my eyes, the moment my uncle was on his deathbed, he's trying to say something, but I can't hear a thing, all I see is the pain and suffering on my uncle's dying face. Nothing but pain and suffering…nothing else.

I pick up my baggage and leave.