Darkening Sky

“Thunderstorm warning for all fishermen”,blared the old radio on the boat. S shut it off, wondering as to how such ill omens came up just as he was about to cast off on his quest. He saw his father come over, an older, wiser and far more weathered man who had seen the excesses of communism and the corruption of capitalism. The debate went on the same lines - was it not better to be content searching closer to shore or just fishing instead of leaving for the deep seas in quest of the unknown treasure ?
But for S, it was not about risk. It was about waking up some day 20 years later with the thought that he could have tried for the treasure but had not. He would prefer living without regrets rather than take the easy way out. He had this small window of opportunity where he could live his dreams before he would have to give up dangerous journeys and leading a selfish life. This was possibly that last one adventure he would get to have.
With a final prayer on his lips , S cast off the final rope tying his boat ” Hope “  to the stone quay. As the quay receded in the distance and the boat headed deeper towards the looming storm, S had a slight moment of apprehension and self doubt . But he shrugged it off and went forward with his plans .
For the first few hours , life was hectic and busy. But slowly , self doubts and criticism started eating into him slowly , like ants mounting an attack on a bowl of sugar.The questions his Dad had asked him bounced around his head like basketballs in a closed box .  Each time, they ate away slowly at his confidence and at his skills and his boat sank a bit more into the seas.
Sometimes, he thought he had found the treasure. Then he would make a dive into the depths of the wrecks sublime . More often than not, he found skeletons or a treasure different from the one he was looking for. Once in a rare while , he would find traces, hints to the possibility of a glorious treasure but the hints, the guidelines and the routes often led to dead ends and pointless labyrinths.
Each minute, the sky darkened a bit deeper and the waves grew choppier as the storm approached closer . But he stuck on his course. Because it was no longer about a life without regrets, it was about a life which he could spend looking back at himself in the mirror. And because every stormy night ends.Sometimes with a bright sunrise , sometimes with a thin silver line. But end it must. That is the only belief which sustains him through the long stormy night .

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