Missing

The anguish that would not end for eleven years began on May 18th, 1977. Abass Ali, who was four years old at the time, did not recall the details of his grandfather’s mysterious disappearance. However, he was told that his grandpa, Abdool Ali, was an ornithologist who studied all types of birds, but adored the Scarlet Macaw the most. He knew that his grandpop went on a routine trip into the Amazon Rainforest to study the creatures, and, well, he never came back. After this, his grandmother, Anita Ali, sat most nights in the parlor alone, not saying a word, as if catatonic. Abass relentlessly asked his mother about his grandfather’s abrupt departure and she danced around his questions.

“What do you want for dinner? I’ll make you anything you want. Do you want to stay up and watch TV tonight? Please, anything. Anything at all but asking about your grandfather, because I don’t know. I wish that I did, and you’re making me think about it. I. Don’t. Know.”

Abass grew up to resent the questions himself. He didn’t know the answers, but he was determined to figure them out. He had often pondered the idea that maybe his grandfather wasn’t dead. That the whole thing was a giant misunderstanding—a hoax. As if one-day good ol’ grandpa Ali would show up on the doorsteps of the family home with a drink in one hand and say,

“…Here I am, Abass. What do you know: I stopped to look at some macaws and whoops, I spent 11 years away. Away from you and everyone just because…” Because he was dead? He had a new family, maybe? A new grandson, even—one he liked more?

“Could I be to blame?” Abass thought to himself. “Surely not. I mean, for God's sake, I was only four. What’s the worst a four-year-old can do to a grown man, right?” Abass hated these type of thoughts most of all.

Over and over these thoughts haunted him, and whether he realized it or not, they defined him. Abass Ali: The boy whose grandad went to work and never came back.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Abass thought to himself one night while sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Would he recognize me if I… found him?”

This thought, unlike the others, was new.

Abass sat back into bed. He knew that he probably wouldn’t find him, couldn’t find him, but if he did, oh boy.

Maybe it was the naive mind of a child; the mind of someone who couldn’t possibly comprehend the dangers of the real world that led him into the rainforest the next morning, or maybe something greater than himself, as if the forest itself had called out to him, reaching with its viny tentacles to pull him in. Abass knew that his mother, nor anyone in his family would approve, so he decided not to say anything beforehand. Sure, they would find out later, and sure, they'd be pissed, but the lure of the rainforest, and all of its wonders, was too great. Abass Ali was determined to not let his grandfather’s disappearance define him any longer, even if it meant disappearing himself.

The first day was tougher than he would have imagined. With the guilt from simply disappearing without a trace — the same way his grandfather had — fresh in his mind, he marched towards the jungle. No real idea of where he was going: Just a boy with a canteen of water and a few supplies he had conjured from his father’s toolbox.

“I shouldn’t be doing this; there’s almost no chance of finding him because, frankly, at this point, there’s probably nothing to find — but he’s been missing for 11 years now, and looking for him may help me find peace or sanity,” Abass thought to himself.

After what seemed like hours of wandering, a steady rainfall had doused the grass beneath his feet. The sound of his goulashes squishing and squashing beneath him combined with the gentle pitter-patter of the rainfall on the canopy above provided a serene feeling. As nightfall swept over him, and all of which inhabited the Rainforest, Abass felt a peculiar hopefulness he couldn’t explain.

The next morning, Abass awoke just as the sun was beginning to rise. Above him, he heard birds chirping and the sound of what he thought was a monkey –or two monkeys – he couldn’t tell. Undoing the zipper to his emerald green tent and stepping outside, he witnessed a truly terrifying sight. His mouth went dry and his stomach churned.

"Oh no," Abass said aloud.

The backpack he had been carrying with almost all of his supplies, which had been left outside of the tent – he’d later regret leaving it there – was missing.

“Where could it have gone?” Abass pondered.

Despite searching for hours, the backpack seemed to have vanished.

“Without food or water, I’m as good as gone,” Abass muttered to himself while climbing a particularly large, grassy hillside.

He had wandered deep into the woodlands. His mouth was dry, and his feet ached profusely. The persistent thought that his mother was worried about him now permeated every crevice of his consciousness.

“I love you, Mom, and I’m sorry. Don’t cry. Please understand that I do not mean to hurt you; in fact, I want to help you. All of us.”

Abass imagined walking through the front door of his family home with his grandfather by his side…

“Look mom, I have a surprise for you! He lost track of time looking at some birds, but he’s home now; he’s here with us now. You can finally stop being sad about it. Look, I made it better. Dead? No, he wasn’t dead—he’s alive! Right here!”

Abass sat down, propping his back against a giant tree. Defeated, he placed his hands over his face.

“Only a few more miles, Abass,” A voice spoke aloud.

Abass snapped his head to the right and then left in bemused horror.

“Who’s there?” Abass barked.

“Only a few more miles, Abass,” The disembodied voice croaked again.

“Tell me who you are, and how did you know my name?” Abass replied.

The jungle fell eerily quiet, and then the voice spoke again.

“Only a few more miles, Abass.”

This time Abass realized that the voice was coming from above. With sweaty palms and a thumping heart, he reached into the side pocket of his jacket, retrieving a 4-inch blade.

“Stay away. I’m w-“

Before he could finish, he locked eyes with a bird perched in a nearby tree.

“The voice… it sounded bird-like, but surely… It can’t be. I must be hallucinating, right?” Abass thought to himself.

“Only a few more miles, Abass,” The bird uttered from its pointed beak.

Abass’ eyes widened, “How do you know my name?!” he roared.

The bird shot into the air, like a flaming rocket. First straight up, then left, then right, almost seeming to hover for a second. Its feathers glistened in the sunlight, like diamonds and appeared to dance.

“Wait! Come back!” Abass demanded.

Abass tried to run after the bird, pumping his arms and legs, but he was exhausted. His legs felt like they were encased in cement. He took a few steps before tripping and plummeting to the ground. Too overwhelmed with fright and exhaustion, he laid among the dirt and the leaves and wept, eventually falling asleep.

He dreamt of himself and his grandfather walking through the Jungle.

Abdool looked up and pointed to the sky before stopping. Abass followed his eyeline to find a little bird in the trees.

“Do you see that?” The old man asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Abass replied.

“Such a beautiful creature, isn’t it?” Abdool said smirking. “It’s a shame that humans have been destroying their homes out here. Sometimes, you get to wondering if the world would be better without us humans. If we just disappeared, maybe creatures like this would thrive.”

Just then, the bird nosedived before gradually rightening itself. It swooshed around their heads, like a pilot who came in too hot and was trying to slow down before attempting to land on a runway and came to rest on Abdool’s shoulder.

The old man patted the bird softly on its scarlet head. As quickly as it landed, the bird took off and appeared to dance in the sky before disappearing behind the trees.

“You look tired, Abass,” Abdool stated.

“I am,” Abass replied.

“Only a few more miles to go,” Abdool said, and then winked.

Abass abruptly awoke. The sun was beginning to rise. He looked around for any signs of the bird but saw nothing.

“How did it know my name?” Abass pondered anxiously.

Then, he heard the voice.

“Only a few more miles, Abass.”

He looked up. The bird was sitting on a branch. Then, as if to say, “Catch me if you can,” it took off.

“No! Please!” Abass demanded.

This time the bird landed a few hundred yards away on another branch. Abass did his best to follow.

“Hey!” Abass screamed.

The bird took off again. And again, it landed a few hundred yards away.

“I got to keep up,” Abass muttered to himself.

The bird took flight, this time completely out of sight.

“No! No! No!”

Abass continued forward and forgot how exhausted and sore he was. He didn’t know where the bird was but knew that he needed to keep moving as quickly as possible. Eventually, he came to an opening in the trees. With disbelieving eyes, Abass saw what appeared to be a person standing with a bird perched on their shoulder.

“Hello Abass, I’ve been waiting for you,” Abdool Ali said, smiling.