STARS ARE NEVER LONELY

I had always thought that mosquito liquidators are not pretty effective;they are only comforters to those who are too tired or lazy to put up their mosquito nets. Similarly, I had always thought fiction could never be as clean as truth. True stories are so evident, and fiction is just like a basket of beautiful lies. And that cool Sunday too, I was wondering on my verandah if the progress in the country was actually happening when I saw that little girl at my house's newly painted gate. She was enjoying the weather like I was, but I hoped she really did not care about liquidators, fiction and progress. She played for sometime with the brownish pebbles perhaps, I was unsure of the tools used, and then laughed her bellies out at a motherless stray kitten which I had not allowed my wife to take in. Watching her, I dozed off. 

When I woke up, it was almost dark. The lights of the gate should be put on before my wife returned from her Sunday shopping. I knew she would learn some new recipes from her friends and experiment them on me. However, she never fails to impress me. I am a gourmet, you should know. 

The girl was still at my gate. I was a bit worried and neared her.

"Hey. Why are you here? " I asked, but suddenly felt my question was too harsh for a kid. 

I asked again," Where is your mother, kiddo? " 

She smiled, and it was comforting. 

"She has gone to work in the nearby lane," she answered. 

"What work? " 

"She carries bricks on her head to that big house that is being built there." 

I understood. She was talking about the Angel Apartments being built newly at our locality. My brother in-law had insisted me to invest on that construction, but, I felt it quite a troublesome job to look into. 

"But, kiddo, you shall feel cold here. Come in." 

She smiled again. 

"No, Ma shall be arriving soon. The stars are out in the sky. It means she will return." 

I was quite amazed at her words and worried too. 

"Beta, you are lonely out here. Come inside till Ma arrives." 

And she replied promptly, "Ma says that I can never be lonely, because she says that stars are never lonely." I decided not to speak, and allowed her to live those moments in complete faith on what her mother had told her. I waited beside the little girl.

Then, I realised that liquidators are not false instruments, truth may often entirely

seem like fiction, and my country's progress is not stagnant. For there is hope in even the dullest of life, farthest of winds and weakest of stars. For stars are never lonely, and I believe in fiction.