The Red Balloon

“Mummy, look what daddy brought for me!” shouted Garvit as he ran into the kitchen.

His mother was busy with preparations for dinner. 

“What did your daddy bring?” she asked smiling at her five year old son.

“See... it’s a red balloon! It’s my favourite colour!” Garvit chirped happily.

“That’s nice! I must say it looks beautiful,” she dimpled at him.

“Yes! It’s very beautiful. It spins around when I throw it high up like this... See!” said the little boy flinging his balloon in the air. 

“Be careful Garvit! The balloon may ‘go pop’ if it touches the fire or something sharp. Go out and play!” his mother said. 

“Yes mummy! By the way what’s for dinner tonight?” the boy enquired holding his balloon and looking around eagerly. 

“Well, what would you like to have?” she asked her son ruffling his hair. 

“Hmm... Can we have matar paneer and pooris or vegetable biryani with boondi raita or veg. manchurian with fried rice or pasta with white sauce?” Gravit suggested. 

“My God! What a list of suggestions!” laughed his mother. 

“Garvit? So you’re here! I was looking for you everywhere,” said his father walking into the kitchen. 

“Yes daddy! I came to show mummy my lovely balloon,” said Garvit running to his father. 

“That’s wonderful! So, what did your mummy say? Did she like it?” his father asked smiling at both of them. 

“Yes, mummy loved my red balloon but she says I can’t play with it here in the kitchen,” Garvit looked at his father.

“Oh, why is that?” his father asked him solemnly, pouring a glass of water for himself from a bottle.

 “Mummy says my balloon will burst if it touches something hot or sharp,” Garvit replied. 

“Your mummy is very intelligent, isn’t she?” asked his father looking at his wife who smiled happily. 

“Yes daddy! My mummy is very beautiful too!” Garvit rushed to kiss his mother. 

“Oh my! Thank you my dear boy!” she laughed as he kissed her cheek. 

“Come on Garvit, let’s play in the garden while your mummy prepares the dinner,” his father said, stretching out his hand to his son. 

“Yes daddy, let’s go!” Garvit eagerly ran to his father. 

His mother smiled as she watched them walk out hand-in-hand talking endlessly. 

Father and son played all evening in their small but neat garden and hurried in when called for dinner. Dusk had already given way to nightfall and the evening star that twinkled brightly in the west was joined by other sparkling pinpricks. Garvit tied his red balloon with the help of a long string to the Meetha Neem. 

“Goodnight Mr. Balloon! I’ll play with you again tomorrow morning after breakfast!” called Garvit as he waved and ran indoors to wash his hands before dinner. 

So, Mr. Red Balloon sat in the dark, looking around the neat garden. He saw the stars shining in the dark sky. A very thin slice of the Moon appeared in the clear sky and looked down on the earth. A breeze sprang up as the night progressed. Mr. Balloon tugged at his string again and again. He loved the gentle wind. How wonderful would it be, he thought, to fly with the breeze and see the World! He tried harder to break free the next time the wind blew. Then suddenly... Snap! The string broke and off went Mr. Balloon with the wind! Whoosh! He flew higher and higher. He could see gardens, birds sleeping in their cosy nests, street lights burning brightly, long electric wires stretching from pole to pole, long curving lonely roads, stray dogs sleeping on cars, owls hunting for food and bats flying around on velvety wings. The trees seemed to be made of silver in the pale glow of the moon.  Once in a while he could hear the angry squawk of a bird disturbed from its restful sleep by the loud honking of a bus or truck. 

On and on he flew... now high, now low. But soon his adventures came to an end. He landed in a pile of dried Neem tree leaves! Thump! Thump! Thump! He looked around to see where he was. A small old wooden cottage stood in front of him and wisps of smoke emerged from its chimney. There were a few trees around. Fresh washing hung on a line. Dawn was just breaking and the Sun was beginning to paint the sky with pink and gold. 

He could hear the birds chirping as they called out daybreak wishes to each other and flew to search for their morning grub. A sparrow swooped to where he sat amidst the dry leaves and gave him a curious look before giving a delighted chirp and making off with a wriggling worm in its beak. He had heard, ‘the early bird catches the worm’, so this is what it means, he thought. He was so busy looking around that he didn’t notice a little girl was standing beside him and looking at him keenly. She bent, picked him up carefully and walked into that dilapidated cottage. To his surprise, the inside of the cottage was very neat and clean. The family that lived here was poor no doubt, but quite hardworking. 

“Look Ammi! God has sent me a gift for Eid!” the girl happily called out to her mother. 

Her mother, a frail woman, looked up from the cloth she was embroidering. “Where did you get this balloon from, Amina?” she asked, a little worried.

“It was in our vegetable patch Ammi, among the potatoes and onions, where we gathered the fallen Neem leaves,” replied Amina looking at her mother with shining eyes. “How did God know I wanted a red balloon?”

The mother smiled at her daughter and said. “I’m happy for you Amina! He knows everything!”

“I thought He wouldn’t remember to send me a gift this year like He forgot to send us enough food. But He did!” Amina danced with joy.

“Allah is very kind, Amina! Eid Mubarak, my dear!” 

“Eid Mubarak, Ammi!” said Amina smiling and hugging her mother. 

Mr. Balloon felt proud that he had brought smiles to a little girl and strengthened her faith in God at the festive season.