A boy called Zarak sat on the bank staring out across the River Indus. Down the coast his father and brothers were renting the boats. The boats, his father’s answer to a career, were the reason mother left. Zarak stared out at the water, his heart floated away from him toward the horizon and over the edge. The water, always relentless, climbed the pebbly beach then fell back again. Watching as a cloud drifted down the horizon and fell into the water, the boy thought about how much he wanted to be that cloud. How much he wanted to sail to the horizon and leave his father and his sorry little life behind. Take a boat and go sailing to the farthest reaches and see life for himself.
“Boy, why are you sitting here again, come help me with the boats.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not? Why do you insist on acting like this, staring off at the horizon as if there were something better in this world, as if you actually believe that somewhere out there, there could possibly be another like you? I’ve told you this before, you are special, and you are the only one.”
“I can dream can’t I?”
“The world doesn’t need dreamers son, it needs workers. Come help me with the boats.”
Zarak refused.
“Why can’t you give up son, accept your life for what it is. You’re a young man with a good heart, there are still plenty of nice girls in Zarobai-Derai, and I’m sure that…”
“Father, I don’t want a girl.”
“You would rather sit and waste away and become nothing?”
Zarak nodded, “I would rather die.” He whispered, his eyes hard.
His father walked away slowly.
Zarak never looked away from the water, it’s colours, its moods, these things he understood, these things had always comforted him in the past and still today they always do. The water’s ability to always change instant to instant yet always stay the same occupied his mind for hours.
A small boat was approaching from the corner of his eye. At first it drew no attention but as it grew closer Zarak looked. The small boat didn’t belong to his father; its markings were different. As it approached, he saw a small figure on her deck, standing on the bow looking out to the water in front of him. The boy watched as this figure, wearing only a shalwar, grew closer and closer; his sandy hair blowing in the wind, his confident gaze across the water, his fair body and smooth skin. Zarak couldn’t look away, his eyes wide, his mouth open he watched as this boy on the red and white sailboat came closer and closer and Zarak couldn’t move.
Right before the small vessel passed Zarak’s spot on the shore the boat boy turned his head to him and met his gaze. His hazel eyes studied him for a moment, his strong jaw relaxed and he smiled. Zarak was trapped in the warmest of feelings as the single most beautiful person he’d ever seen drifted across his beach. Neither boy broke eye contact.
“BOY! GET OVER HERE AND HELP WITH THE BOATS!” The voice broke the spell. Zarak turned quickly to look at his father, hands on his hips, calling angrily. He turned back to the boy on the boat, still watching, his soft eyes calling him, drawing him in.
“I’m sorry father, it’s over.” Zarak whispered as he slowly got up, looked once more down the length of his beach then he ran at the water between him and the red and white boat, he jumped, and he swam free.
