The Slave

A Story by BabarAyub

A little story better say a sudden outburst of emotions that could not remain inside my head for long.....

His name was John and he was only ten when his father died.His mother, a distant relative of me, left him to me as a servant.I was young then,twenty five,and was unmarried.Being of noble nature he would never complain of the too much work that he was made obliged to do.Whenever I would ask him to do a certain job he would give a smile in return.A smile through which he would try to tell me that he was very tired, that he was a human too....that he was an orphan and needed love and care and that he was not my slave.I continued reproaching him for his being juvenile and his being childish and could never understood what his smile said and what his little brown eyes said. His pleas remained unnoticed and his soundless cries unheard.
He worked for me for five years until one day he died of typhoid ....On his deathbed he had the same smile that I kept ignoring so wickedly. At that moment I understood that his was the smile of sorrows that overflowed and did not come in the form of tears but innocent smiles which people like me very rarely understand....
I see my meeting with him approaching ....When his soul will meet with mine with the same smile and when I'll do nothing but give him in return the smile which I never did in his life....Yes in the world of dust inside our graves,I hope, we will meet.