THE BALLOON

Asad Shabbir

This short story explores the innocence of a child, the love of his mother and the extraordinarily strong bond between a mother and a child.

'Mama, can I get a balloon?' I asked, knowing the answer. I did not know why I asked every day. Even in that age, despite not really knowing how things worked, I knew that we never had money to pay the man in the bright shirt that came by our village every day at dusk.

With him, he carried a long wooden stick on which there was a wonderful array of colorful balloons. To say that this stick was a dream would be an understatement. I was blinded by the illusion of one day owning a bright red balloon dog or yellow giraffe.

I still remember counting the hours till the sun began to descend and the balloon man would walk through, holding his stick nonchalantly as he was surrounded by excited children. I would finish my chores early and run to the edge of the village, sometimes in the blistering heat, just to be the first one to glimpse the approaching visage of the man. In the horizon, the first thing one would see would be the balloons, followed by the rest of the stick and eventually the man.

He would give me a peculiar grin every time he saw me, as if he knew what I was going to ask for. But I never asked him, I just preferred to enjoy the magnificence of the shapely colors which glowed in the brilliant sun. Shortly after he would walk past me, the children in the village would barricade him into the corner, flashing shiny coins and pointing at the colors which most struck their fancy. I could have sworn that he gave me a look once or perhaps twice while selling to others. I did not understand what they meant but I appreciated it nonetheless.

'Maybe tomorrow' Mama said, giving me a tender smile before kissing my forehead. I smiled back, yet it was a veiled smile. I knew that it hurt her every time I asked for a balloon and every time she could not get me the balloon so I smiled. I just wanted to get my hands on one of those balloons which I could call my own.

'One day, I will buy all the balloons he has!' I said excitedly, causing Mama to smile affectionately. Hope itself was all people like us could hold onto that and I tried, from a very young age, to give hope to Mama.

The following day, I helped Mama carry heavy metal pitchers of water to the farmers who were preparing for the great harvest. This gave Mama a few opportunities to find ways to earn money and perhaps even buy some meat for the celebration that followed the harvests. I tried to keep up despite the heat which the hard ground below my feet was soaking in. It hurt to stand in one spot for too long and my feet were beginning to develop blisters again. Mama, however, was either impervious to the heat or had enough grace to hide her discomforts as she delivered water and tended to the demands of the farmers. Perhaps it was just the thin shoes she wore.

As the sun began moving towards the horizon, I was instructed to return to the hut with some of the payments that the farmers gave to Mama for her work. This was an important task and I was always honored when Mama trusted me with such an important job.

I was just about to finish the chore in the hut when Mama burst into our humble abode and grabbed me. She kissed me on the forehead and held me in her arms, as if I were an infant again.

'Do you want that balloon?' she asked, teasing. Her eyes were full of joy, like her eyes from her wedding photograph. I can still remember her smile, her ecstatic joy, and her laugh.

In response to my initial confusion, she opened my small hand and put a shiny coin in it and closed my hand. For some reason, I was suddenly terrified with myself. I began crying. I did not want to spend her money, but I was scared that I will buy the balloon and spend the money on my desires. It wasn't fair to her.

'Oh my poor boy. Don't worry, go buy your balloon. Come and show Mama your balloon! Mama is waiting for your right here! Go before it's too late.' She said, pushing me out of her lap and pushing me towards the door. I did not want to, yet I wanted to. At the time, I was so conflicted that I just tried to close my eyes and will the entire world to stop so I could resolve the inner turmoil within me. I clenched the coin as hard as I could and refused to let go of Mama. I do not know what she was thinking but her eyes were wet when she finally managed to get me off her.

'Go! Go get it!' she said, wiping her eyes and giving me an encouraging smile. Suddenly, her smile and her happiness in me getting a balloon was all that mattered. I suddenly saw in Mama's eyes the reflection of my excited and giddy face. I nodded, and clenched the coin even harder before dashing out of the house. From the corner of my vision, I noticed that Mama's shoes were missing. She always left them there when entering the hut yet they were not to be seen.

I should have realized but I was an anxiously charged child who was sprinting to the edge of the village. My eyes sought the top of the huts, looking for a trace of the balloon man. Hearing laughter, I followed the sound, only to find the famed balloon man, holding his magnificent balloons. I rushed to him and gave him a warm smile before catching my breath.I knew exactly the one I wanted. I pointed as if it were a mechanical action. I wanted the biggest of the colorful beasts which hung loosely from the wooden stick.

He was a bit surprised by my sudden appearance but complied nevertheless, putting Mama's coin into a little leather belt he wore under his shirt. He handed the balloon of my dreams: A green dog!

Initially, I held it as if were a fragile treasure which would fly away if I held it too tightly. It was more valuable than anything I had ever seen. I carefully navigated my way out of the crowd of children. I tried being intimidating, as if daring anyone to try and take my balloon. Once I was at a safe distance from the rest of the children, I gave myself a chance to admire my balloon. I touched it, I rubbed it on my face and gloated in its brilliant radiance! The way the sun's dying streaks shone at the corners of the dog. The sun had set and the world now spun around the balloon as I matched the green color of the balloon with the green grass and the green pitcher near someone's hut.

Mama!

I just had to show Mama! I held the balloon as tightly and as safely as I could before dashing through the labyrinth of shanty huts to Mama. With a cackling laugh, I made my way home, full of adrenaline. I had never felt so alive. With the green dog at my side, I could conquer anything and could be anyone with no limitations. I was no longer just a kid who can't afford to go to the school. I was now somebody!

Perhaps it was my confidence or it was just fate, but when I saw my hut, and Mama standing outside, with her arms crossed, smiling at the sight of me, I smelt death. I knew what was happening before it happened and began crying before I even went into the dive. My toe stubbed something hard and I jumped, still clutching the green dog. As I began to fall, the green dog flew out of my grip. My eyes willed the faceless dog to remain suspended in mid-air, or even to simply fly away to safety. But fate had decided. I fell down, crying as I knew what was going to happen. And then, I heard the indistinguishable 'pop'. All heavens and hells let lose as I let out a scream which thundered my head, as I let out the pain and the agony which my poor dog had suffered.

I cried and cried and cried, and cried until there were no tears left to cry. For I had taken the reason for my mother's smile, the reason for her laughter, and destroyed it. Mama came rushing to my side and took me into her arms.

'It's fine! It's fine! We'll get another one tomorrow!' she said, soothing my rage. She walked past the shattered remnants of my faithful companion. I demanded that it be brought into the hut. I was going to repair it and return it to its former glory. Determined, I took the dusty and broken piece of rubber into the hut and attempted to blow air into it and tried to put a bit of water and inflate it. When all failed, I threw my fists on the soft earth and pounded it, as if angrily demanding my balloon back from the gods. My mother silently watched me, as if wanting to repair the effects of fate but knowing that she could not.

I knew it was paining my mother to see me cry but my child-mind refused to see sense.

In the morning, as I silently followed my mother, my eyes strained due to the tears lost, I noticed that she was not wearing her shoes. Upon my questioning, she just said 'Ah, who needs shoes when it is such a beautiful day! Come, we will go and see the horses today!'

I did not understand her. It was indeed a nice day but my feet still burnt if I stood in the same spot for too long. I still felt the need to jump from one shadowy spot to another. Why did she not feel the need to wear her shoes? Where were her shoes?

My brain slowly pieced two and two together to realize why she was so happy for the balloon and where the money had come from. This caused me an entirely new wave of pain yet I could not, despite the best of wills, cry any more tears.

Mama sacrificed something crucial to her for my happiness and I am not happy. I attempted to be as happy as I could, offering to do everything so Mama would not have to walk in the hot sunny parts of the Earth. Even if I was in pain, I knew that she should not be in pain because of my fault. When dusk approached once again, a grimace shadowed itself onto my face as I recalled the colorful blur of the previous day, wanting to return to the glorious moment where I first touched the balloon.

When we returned to the hut, walking in absolute silence, I did not ask my mother for a balloon as I usually did. Instead, I asked 'Mama, can I go and play with the children?'

She nodded, not paying particular attention as she prepared our meal. I walked out, thinking hard. As if an instinct, I automatically walked to the edge of the village where I had waited for the balloon man for so long. I didn't have to wait as he had already arrived and was being eyed by the children and some elders of the village.

He saw me, and gave me one of his usual smiles before asking 'Where is that green one? He was a mighty fine one!'

My lips quivered as I mumbled an incoherent answer. He asked me to repeat as he came closer. I repeated but could not achieve a more coherent reply. A single tear had found its way down my cheek. Seeing this, the man suddenly stopped and looked at me. I felt like a vulnerable idiot who will be yelled at for my stupidity and lack of care.

'Well, that's a pity. Balloons eventually die, no matter how big they are.' He said. I nodded; I liked this man as he did not yell at me for my carelessness. Then again, I realized, that no one yelled at me.

'Do you want to get a new balloon friend or your money back?' he said, holding the stick with just one hand and the other poised to reach the stick or his money belt. To my utter delight, he was smiling and looked serious. I thought hard as I looked at the beautiful balloons and then his jingly money belt.

'Not the balloon' I heard myself saying. I was personally quite shocked to hear myself want the money for another green dog.

'I will see you tomorrow.' He said as he went off on his way, leaving me standing there with the same shiny coin Mama had given me the previous day. Why had I not taken another balloon?

Because Mama needs shoes.

I walked aimlessly in the village for a while before realizing that I wanted to buy shoes. I went to the main shop where I thought such items could be purchased. A woman with a toothy smile showed me the shoes and I picked ones with beautiful yellow flowers drawn on them, in a field of green. I loved them, wanting to try them on and laugh at how silly they looked! I passed over my coin to the woman, hugging the shoes.

She looked at the coin, grimacing. The look in her eye was pained, as if trying to tell me that the shoes are worth more than the coin. Yet, she suddenly let go of the trouble and gave me a warm smile.

If I was happy yesterday after buying the balloon, today was as if I had bought an entire truckload of balloons. Holding the shoes, I ran to the hut, jumping over every small obstacle. I knew that shoes don't pop and blow up into smithereens at the slightest fall. I ran all the way home as fast as I could, yelling and whooping.

I presented the shoes to Mama, excitedly pulling her feet into my lap and putting the shoes on her feet. I admired the way her foot fit in the shoe where mine didn't. I laughed and played with the shoes, having her walk around the hut and do clever footwork just to see how the shoes fared. My mother had that recognizable and unmistakable tinkle of joy in her eye as she heard my laughter, and as she saw her shoes.

I learnt a valuable lesson too: Balloons eventually die, no matter how big they are.