the boy , the desert , the rain and the rose ...

The first few drops of rain that fell on the arid sand of the desert went almost unnoticed. Perhaps the reason was that the rain wasn't accompanied by any thunder and the clouds too were not noticed because they had disappointed too many too often. So it seemed highly unlikely that these clouds would bring any rain. The reason could also be attributed to scorching heat which had made the drops vaporize the moment they touched the ground; or it could be attributed to the absence of anyone who would've noticed it. For anyone who could have, was looking at what he thought would be his last meal.



"Me yes that's right me, a single flower of rose, a fine young specimen too as someone had praised my beauty when i was still a bud. And I'm going to be eaten by a boy. For what, a few more moments of agony in starvation with a hope of surviving on me." That was all the rose was thinking when the boy first held him and looked with those desperate eyes that had flames of undying hunger billowing behind them. " I had been proud of my color which was rich and my smooth petals eloquent, all proof of my royal lineage. I had been cut carefully and I had ordained a shelf. Met similar flowers on the way. We were all bought together and gifted to a beautiful lady. I had been even spend some time in a vase and all the other flowers were jealous when I was chosen to be kept in a book. It was an honour only few got and that's how i thought it would always be. Me being remembered as a symbol of love for the years to come. But of all the things I had imagined, I never had thought even once that my end would be as the last meal of a boy."



The boy's skin was dry and wrinkled with all the suffering that he had to endure for the past few days. There was nothing in his mind. He was not thinking of life or death. He had come to terms with the harsh reality long time back. Now it was just the long wait. He had seen many a clouds fly across him without a single downpour. And now he held the rose in his hand, a memory got refreshed. Of how he had come across it.

And just when the rose thought it would be the end of it, it sensed it. The air had become moist to its liking. The rose thought to itself, "Maybe this is not how it ends. Maybe me n the boy, we both survive." The rose thought wrong.

The boy opened his mouth to devour his last meal. A few drops of rain landed on his parched tongue which was as dry as the desert itself. The moisture made it easier for the boy to chew.