Today the sky is bluer than ever, bluer than the color of the sketch pen I stole from that neighborhood shop when I was a kid. I have just come out of prison, but they called it a hospital where they keep mentally ill people. They kept me there for a long time. Reema is here at the gate of the prison to receive me. That incident probably changed my fortune. But let me tell you from the very beginning.
I had enough money to buy only one sketch pen, and I was about to buy a blue-colored sketch pen. Then a blue-eyed girl bought a pink sketch pen. I followed her choice and bought a pink sketch pen. I bought that pink sketch pen, but my eyes were fixed on that blue pen. If I had not stolen that blue sketch pen, my eyes would never stop looking at that and I would have probably gone blind after leaving that shop. So I stole that blue sketch pen.
My eyes were shining with joy after stealing the sketch pen. Maybe a shining star had broken and fallen in my eyes. The falling star was so bright that the shopkeeper immediately realized that I had stolen something. That shopkeeper may have also stolen something in his childhood, or he must have also liked a blue-eyed girl. He knew that I had hidden the stolen pen in my pants.
He knew about me and my family, so he didn’t say much but snatched that blue sketch pen from me, took my hand, and brought me to my house. He told my mother the whole story. My mother was talking to the mother of that blue-eyed girl at that time. The blue-eyed girl’s mother now knew that I had stolen a sketch pen. She smiled. I was eight, and I used to watch only cartoons on TV at that time, so I didn’t understand the meaning of her smile. Later, when I started watching movies and series, I understood the meaning of her smile.
That day, my mother slapped me in front of the shopkeeper, the blue-eyed girl, and her mother. She asked me to say sorry to the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper laughed and said, "Forget it. He is a child." I don’t know why, but seeing the blue-eyed girl’s smile and the shopkeeper’s laugh, I wished I was a big boy. If I had been a big boy, I would have probably hit that shopkeeper. Not because he complained about my theft to my mother, but because he laughed and said, "Forget it, he is a child."
Later, when I grew up, I never stole a sketch pen again. The strength of my arms had increased. My mustache had grown thicker. My voice became heavy, and sometimes I felt awkward seeing a boy kissing a girl. I found it strange in the early days of growing up, but then later it fascinated me. Instead of a sketch pen, I wanted to steal the heart of that blue-eyed girl.
The blue-eyed girl was now seen in pink trousers instead of pink shorts. As we get older, we are all attracted to each other. The blue-eyed girl who used to kiss me while playing as a child would now lower her eyes when I touched her. That blue-eyed girl taught me that girls could speak just by lowering their eyes. The mother of that blue-eyed girl smiled every time she saw me, just as she did when I was slapped by my mother when I was caught stealing that sketch pen.
The blue-eyed girl’s mother never stopped smiling from her balcony every time, even after I had grown up, as if still enjoying that slap. There was not much distance between the two balconies, mine and that of the blue-eyed girl’s house. So one day, when that blue-eyed girl was blowing a kiss at me from her balcony, her mother screamed instead of smiling. That day, it was my turn to smile. I smiled so much that the blue sketch pen ink started falling from my smile. It was a different matter that I had that blue-eyed girl’s pink scarf in my hands.
The blue-eyed girl’s mother never smiled again in front of me from that day on. It was my turn to smile. From then on I smiled at the blue-eyed girl’s mother every time I saw her.
Even that blue-eyed girl knew that there was a huge difference between kissing while playing as a child and kissing while on the balcony as she grew up. There is a big difference between a pink sketch pen and a blue sketch pen. I began spending more time with her. She knew I stole her heart, but she was scared as she grew up. She no longer came to the balcony where she came to water their plants. I used to sit and wait for her, but she never came. Her mother would water the plants now, and when she saw me, she would give me a dirty smile.
This act by her mother got me deeply hurt. I looked at myself in the mirror for hours that day. I never looked like a villain, but a decent boy. When the aunt of the blue-eyed girl came one day, she saw me smiling at the blue-eyed girl. She told the blue-eyed girl’s mother, "Sis, the time has come for you to tell Reema to stay away from this boy." And her mother said, "I also don't like Reema meeting this boy." That day, I saw a strange sadness on the face of the blue-eyed girl.
From that day onwards, I stopped even looking at Reema. From then on, she was Reema to me. I suddenly felt that I was committing a sin until now because of people like me, who make mothers of young girls sad and worried. Little did Reema know that I had started reading literature and understood a lot. The blue-eyed girl was so moved by my indifference that one day she found me alone in the corner next to the balcony and kissed me.
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Being kissed suddenly is like finding the whole blue sky in my arms. I felt so fortunate and joyful. I had never found a sudden kiss in literature, so I also kissed her. While we were kissing each other, perhaps some mermaid was drawing a picture of a pink sun in the calm blue water somewhere in the ocean. My lips were dark but suddenly started turning pink that day, almost red like the sun being painted by that mermaid. That mermaid had painted her sun completely pink that day, but the blue-eyed girl’s mother and aunt came and saw us kissing.
When I came back home after some time, I saw Reema lying face down on the ground. Her lips, which were pink, turned blue. Her whole body had turned blue, exactly the same blue as my shirt. I cried that day. Maybe for the last time. The blue-eyed girl had gone too far with her blue lips. I couldn’t believe that she would leave me. I shouted to everyone that she would go nowhere. She had gone nowhere, but I landed in prison. The father of that blue-eyed girl was a police officer.
Today, after years, I have come out of this prison. Wow, how fortunate I am. Here in this prison, people call me a sketch pen maniac. Does anyone go crazy by painting with a sketch pen? I haven’t seen the sky for years. They said a lunatic was to be released from the asylum today. I had not seen such a blue sky in years. Yes, that blue-eyed girl has now returned. I always thought that she could not leave me or go anywhere. The sky has become so blue since her arrival, even more blue than that blue sketch pen of mine. Wow, how fortunate I was.
