Still unconscious, Frank lay still. The whistling air stopped blowing fiercely. Onlookers gathered in Frank’s room. He knew not. Those eyes of his neighbors were restless. They wanted Frank to stand on his feet, he had always been a carefree curious wanderer of the forest. The fact that any animal could bring him down to unconsciousness was not familiar to the neighbors. In his childhood on a hill, Frank never saw animals, but when he came close to the forests, he counted his days with animals, on both the hands. His aim was not hunting, he was curious with animals. He dared to touch the bear, but without fear. Today, the bear made him lay unconscious. The history forward from this point, made its own course. Frank had just arrived. The event of unconscious battling the real narrative had spoken like history. What he  thought about being, had caught all the practicality in the real world; when Frank Murphy my grandfather stepped his foot to the land of the forest. The written history of a glorified ruler did not hold this essence. Like a recounting folklore, the common people’s lives had to be written. The tricksters of Native Americans sounded similar to Frank’s story. This was a history of a common traveler, making his way through the world of establishment. He had built his world, when no one dared to make their own life. Slowly and slowly the faces changed in the crowd. One voice revived the altruism, when a trendsetter kept his feet in the crowd. The idea of belonging to the world, and an abode of stay to call the world your own. 

                                                 “Be the sky you want to be 

                                             And let others see a rainbow in you.” 

This poem flashed in Frank’s mind and he woke up. He had a blurry vision, his head spinning and his stomach hurting. Frank had carved this short poem on the park bench. Ralph Dandro had asked him what this short poem meant, Ralph was a fruit seller. Frank had explained that the poem means: do not be a rainbow, be something larger, like the sky. Dandro had said that a rainbow only appears sometime in the sky. A layman's understanding, even evoked a poet in Dandro’s heart. He could hear his soul, the purpose of Frank’s short poem became so evident at that time.

By Sushant Thapa

From: Nepal

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