The companion of the journey

The companion of the journey

It was 10 o'clock at night. Akash was banging on the handlebars of his cycle as he passed through the dark streets. This old cycle will not bear it anymore. How will I go for the interview tomorrow? He muttered. Just then a harsh voice came from behind, "Hey boy, take out the money from your pocket!" Two people surrounded him. Akash's breathing became faster. Just then a woman's loud voice echoed, "Run! The police are coming." Scared, those people ran away.

Akash turned around and saw a girl standing with a torch in her hand. There were paint stains on her saree, and a strange restlessness on her face. "Thank you... you saved my life," he said panting. Without answering, the girl took out a card from her pocket, "Meera, Artist. 24/7, Old Painter Street." And walked away with quick steps.

The next day Akash reached that address. There was a board outside the old building. "Meera Art Studio: Colours for Broken Hearts." As soon as he went inside, he saw a painting that shocked him. A woman with broken glass in her hand, and hope in her eyes. Did you like my painting? Meera came from behind. Her voice was not as restless as yesterday.

Akash asked, why were you there last night? Meera said while making a cup of tea, I go to that lane every day. My father was killed there by those people. She became silent. Then suddenly she said, do you want your bicycle repaired? I have tools in my garage.

In the garage, Meera turned the bicycle over and took out the tire with a screwdriver. You know, I learned all this from Papa. He was a mechanic, she told. Aakash looked – there were old photographs on the wall. In one photograph, Meera and her father were sitting on a bicycle and laughing. “The killers of those people were never caught… maybe that is why I go to that lane every day,” her voice shook. I am trying to find the killers. Maybe I can find out something if I do this.

The bicycle was repaired. While leaving, Meera gave him a painting—the rising sun on a broken bicycle. This will change your fate for the interview, she smiled.  

Aakash showed that painting in the interview. The HR manager was surprised, "Whose work is this? We need such creative people!" He got the job as a graphic designer. He called Meera in happiness, but her number was switched off.  

When he reached the studio in the evening, the door was broken. Everything was scattered inside. There were drops of blood on the floor and Meera's sketchbook was torn. It was written on a page, those people had come... I dialed your number. But your phone was not reachable. Help me.  

Aakash immediately called the police. He remembered—Meera had said last night that the gang hides in the red light factory. He rode his bicycle and reached there. Before the police arrived, he saw Meera tied on the roof. "Aakash! Look down..." Hearing Meera's scream, he looked down. He saw a petrol tank there. Akash could not think of anything else at that time. He wanted to save Meera at any cost. He set his jacket on fire and threw it towards the tank. There was an explosion and the criminals came out and started running. The explosion spread fire all around. Just then the police arrived there and caught everyone. Akash had reached the roof to save Meera. The fire had spread a lot. While rescuing Meera, Akash's hand got burnt, but he smiled and said, you changed my fate, now it was my turn. A month later, Meera's studio was re-inaugurated. Akash put a painting on the wall - a burning jacket and a broken bicycle, from which new petals were coming out. Meera said while applying ointment on his burnt hand, your bravery turned my fear into colours. Are you also ready to paint in my colour? Meera said while holding Akash's hand. Akash squeezed her hands tightly. Yes Meera, now we will fill the golden colors of life together.

Sometimes an unknown companion found on the way becomes your strength. The only difference is that some people walk holding your hand, while some show you the way with their courage. Every difficulty in life... is the first sentence of a new story.