The Goner | A Short Story | May 2021 | Anagha

Nestled near a sea in a faraway land was a small and quaint village. In the morning, the sun would glimmer on the water that seemed to reflect thousands of tiny liquid mirrors. In the night, the waves would gently lull the town to sleep with their deep, hypnotic sound that the light breeze carried to every nook and cranny of the town.

Among the village dwellers was an old lady, Indrani, and her grandson named Krishna. Krishna was an inquisitive kid who loved exploring the outdoors. Indrani was getting old and was no longer adept at weaving intricate baskets that she sold in front of her hut. Neither could she help the local men in building and repairing the boats that were tucked away neatly beside the shoreline. She wanted Krishna to learn some form of work that would help him make both ends meet after she was gone.

However, Krishna was simply not interested in anything that the villagers did. Instead, he loved playing with the sand. The coarse and grainy texture of the sand used to squish beneath his legs softly as he would run up and down the shore. The blue and salty water would bubble and froth as it neared the shore, carrying beautiful shells to the sand. The waves would ripple with a calm demeanor, quenching the thirst of the warm, sunbathed land.

Krishna would create sandcastles and would be on the beach from morning until late afternoon, when the sun was scorching hot. He would then rush home for a quick meal and resume working on the sand till the sun painted the horizon with soft hues of red, orange, and yellow. The blue water laced with white foam would turn golden brown while churning the sand. Its sweet melody amused Krishna no end.

While everyone laughed at him for wasting his time, he slowly and steadily mastered the craft of molding and shaping the sand. His grandmother would shout and scold him to the extent that she would even lock him up in a room. Krishna, however, bolted out of the door at the first chance. She tried to lure him by taking him on a boat ride and asking the neighbor to show him how fish were caught. But Krishna would return and spend the next day creating a sand replica of the fish, crabs and even turtles that got caught up in the fishing net. His grandmother finally gave up pestering him and left him in his own dreamland.

Krishna took this is as a positive sign and began creating sand structures out of anything he could lay his hands on – from seashells to baskets to his favorite toys. Armed with two buckets, a shovel, and a spade, he would spend his days building and rebuilding various shapes. Exhausted from the tiring work, he would lie beside his sculpture, gazing at the night sky dotted with white shimmering specks all around. The gulls would all fly up around him, crying loudly, as if rejoicing at his craft. He would grin with a smile that reached his eyes.

Slowly and steadily, people began noticing his work. By the time he was twenty, tourists would flock around him, capturing him in action in their cameras as he remained engrossed in creating jaw-dropping sculptures. Soon he was requested to teach his expertise to eager onlookers. The news spread like wildfire and Krishna was soon organizing summer camps for little kids. He charged a minimal fee for his time. His face always sported a smile when his pupils learned the craft, often refusing to accept any fee from the most diligent ones. His grandmother, Indrani, burst into tears when he sculpted her face in the sand on her seventieth birthday. Krishna was even featured in the local newspaper and was hailed as the greatest artist the town had ever produced. Indrani’s heart swelled with pride seeing her grandson make the small village famous overnight.

Krishna had proved that, to him, the leisurely, salty waves were an elixir. For him, the warm sand grains were gold dust. And he had magically blended the elixir with the gold dust to craft his destiny.