UNDER the shade of a flambouyant tree in the neighbourhood park he sat, his pencil moving with a slow, smooth motion over the sketchpad bringing to life a thousand times on a thousand pages, the face of someone whose image was imprinted on his mind. His mind though, was a blank page, except for her beautiful face glowing with a happy smile.
“Who are you?” he often asked the portrait, “Which part of my life were you in?”

He sat alone each day as seasons changed, his hair grown long, beard untrimmed for the world held nothing for him.
Two old men nearby playing a game of checkers glanced at the young man with concern, the wrinkles on their faces could tell stories that spanned decades and even without seeing the portrait, they knew what was his deep worry. One old man said quietly to his friend, “It’s a woman his heart is aching for.”
“True,” his friend agreed, “There’s no light in his eyes and no happy smile.”

The young man stood up, bracing on the tree for a long moment, his head bent, then he sighed and walked slowly out of the park, pausing a little for a familiar hand to hold his arm to cross the street for home.

It was his little sister Sandhiya, who had been sitting a little farther away keeping a close eye on him, for it was not safe in his mental state to leave him alone. She served him lunch and waited patiently for him to finish his meal. There was no hiding the sadness in her eyes for her big brother.
A promising future crushed, spirits broken.

He had earned a scholarship to advance his studies in engineering in the United Kingdom, and for a boy from a farming family, that was an outstanding accomplishment.
“London, here I come!” he had exulted.

After two years of excelling in his studies and staying focused on graduating with a master’s degree, something new walked into his young life.
Her name was Aleysha, a second-year medical student. She was Indian but British born, from an elite family of celebrated doctors.
“And I am just an ordinary boy from a farming family,” Virat had thought.

Not sure how he could talk to her but everywhere their paths crossed, whether the library, park, theatre or restaurant, she always looked at him with a warm smile. That smile so mesmerised him, it dissipated the uncertainty in his mind, and one day at the park he spoke to her.

A casual friendship blossomed into something beautiful and stronger, but her elite family disapproved of the South American middle-class boy, for compared to their wealth and status, he was just rags and crumbs. But Virat managed to hold his own respectfully against her family’s insults and unkind words.

Often he would look in the mirror, not to see the young man with classic good looks and great hair, but to tell himself, “I have my own worth, ambitions, selfless and genuine kindness.”
So despite the strict objections to their relationship, they stayed together.
Then tragedy struck.

It had been her birthday, a special dinner he had planned, and as he waited for his ride, a black Sedan from nowhere struck him down, dragging his helpless body a good distance before driving away.

She had waited hours for him, unaware of the tragedy. He had not called to say anything and she was about to give up seeing him that night, when the hospital called.
She had broken down crying when she saw his helpless body as doctors battled to save his life. The hit on his head had left him in a comatose state and though the doctor said he had a good chance to awaken from the coma, he may lose his memory for an indefinite period.

His family had been so devastated, for he was their only son, that Aleysha could not find enough words to comfort them, but her family showed no concern.
One month and two weeks later, he awoke from the coma but had no recollection of what had happened that night, and remembered no one nor anything.
Life interrupted and dreams shattered, he had to return home.

She had watched him leave with deep sadness, for there was nothing she could do for him then.
The years went by slowly and after three years of therapy, and the love and care of family, his mind still remained blank.

Aleysha had called often, hoping that one day she would hear some good news, but nothing. With hopes fading, unable to focus on her studies and unhappy at home, knowing somehow her family was responsible for Virat’s accident, she had left. She joined the World Health Organization (WHO) and dedicated herself to humanitarian work in remote areas of Africa and Asia.
Virat’s family though, under great stress with his mental condition and shrinking finances, never gave up, but now after three years the realisation that he may never recover, they had to now accept.

Then one day on the way to the city for his visit to the therapist, a horrific accident involving two cars and a mini-bus stopped traffic. Virat exited his father’s car before anyone could stop him and walked closer to the accident scene. He stopped, rooted to the spot as he stared at the badly damaged black Sedan and the young man lying just outside the door.

The impact of that scene on his mind triggered a sharp pain and he held his head and screamed, as lights flashed inside and scenes of the past returned like a floodgate. He sank to his knees and bent over crying, his family standing close around him, not sure what was happening to him. After a long while Virat got up slowly to his feet, took a bottle of water from his sister, drank half and poured half over his head. He pushed back the hair from his face and looking at his family, he said,
“Where did all of you go? I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

It took a while for it to register on the family that he had regained his memory.
“Oh my god!” his sister gasped, “It was the accident scene–” and she broke down crying.
A week later, groomed again and back to his normal self, he held the portrait of Aleysha and said,

“All the time my mind was blank, I could have still seen you.”
“That night when the accident happened,” his sister told him, “You were going to have dinner with her for her birthday.”
“She was all that was on my mind that night,” he said with a little smile, and there was no denying the love in his eyes.
There was a short moment of silence then his mother said, “She really loved you.”

He smiled again and this time there were tears in his eyes, when he said, “I know.”
He inhaled deeply to compose himself then asked, “Where is she now?”

“Somewhere in Africa or Asia through work with the WHO,” his sister told him.
He held up her portrait and said, “I will find you.”