THAT blow of betrayal had hit Vickash so hard that it had shattered his mind for a few frightening moments.

The bullying, taunts, and abuse from his father, being forced to leave home and ending up homeless, were severe blows by fate, but he had never given up hope that one day a door would open for him to have a good life. His passion for design and his sketches were all he had that could have given him the breakthrough in life he needed.

“She seemed so kind, and I trusted her,” he bemoaned.

Such cruelty in this world.

“What is left for me now?” he asked quietly, sitting at the wharf, watching the mighty river.
“How long more can I go on like this?”

He sighed deeply, a burning sensation in his throat. “Maybe I should ask the river to take me in its depths and leave this suffering life behind.”

He felt a soft touch on his leg, and turning a little, he saw Sam—the stray dog with thick black fur and grey eyes, his closest companion—looking at him, sensing his pain.

Vickash patted his head and said to him, “Thanks for caring.”

And to all the dogs who watched over him like protectors, he said, his voice breaking a little, “Thanks, guys, you are my strength and support in this unforgiving world.”

And as the days went by, he pulled together those shattered pieces in his mind to be whole again, to keep his hopes alive.

“One day,” he kept saying in his mind, “one day, life will smile at me.”

He never saw the woman again, but one Saturday, he saw Aunt Bethany at the market. She hugged him, and tears misted in her eyes when she told him, “I’m so sorry you had to leave. It distressed your mother when I told her.”

“It’s okay,” Vickash smiled to comfort her. “I am doing okay.”

The old lady shook her head, regret in her eyes. “If only my son was a good person,” her voice choked a little. “He’s in prison now, but he’ll be out again soon. All I wanted was to live my old age in peace and quiet.”

Vickash watched her leave, her shoulders a little slumped, having lost the zeal for life. He felt sorry for her, but he couldn’t help her, given that he himself was in a helpless situation.

He was now 17 and thinking of renting a room somewhere near the market and getting a job, possibly in a hardware store. His mother, whom he spoke to often, was relieved he had come to that decision.

“I will have to move on,” he said quietly. “Until I find where I want to be.”

The only problem he would have, though, was leaving the dogs. They had become his best friends, and he had witnessed people chasing and kicking them all because of a little food. He had been spending half of his earnings on food for them, and though some people appreciated what he was doing, others mocked him because he was homeless like the stray dogs.

He always took it calmly, saying quietly, “Story of my life, but one day…”

He left the thought unfinished, and that one day came that his young heart had hoped for a few months later.

He was sitting on the wharf one night—the wind had become chilly, for the rains would be there soon—when he heard light footsteps behind him. The dogs became alert but did not bark because they sensed no danger.

The footsteps came closer and stopped, and a smooth voice inquired, “Are you Vickash?”

Vickash got up and turned around, gasping in disbelief as the country’s top fashion designer stood in front of him. He had a polished look and was fashionably dressed, though modest.

He held up a copy of the sketch and asked, “Is this your work?”

Vickash nodded, not finding his voice.

The sketch was the same one the woman had stolen from him.

“How did you get that?” Vickash questioned in his mind.

“A young girl met me at one of my workshops,” the designer said, “and told me a little sad story.”

Vickash knew the girl had to be his sister because he had told her what happened.

“This is really a beautiful piece of work, and you are quite talented,” the designer complimented him.

“Thank you,” Vickash said, finding his voice.

The designer looked around and inhaled deeply. “It’s quite cool and serene here. Your own little world?”

Vickash smiled and nodded.

“And your bodyguards?” he inclined his head towards the dogs.

“Yes, they have been my constant companions.”

The designer nodded appreciatively, and looking again at the sketch, he said to Vickash, “I need someone with your vision on my team.”

He handed him his card and said, “The problems you have faced because you’re different, I can identify with, and the same help I was given, I would like to extend that help to you. Wait for my call and have an adult family member accompany you.”

Vickash couldn’t believe what he was hearing, an exhilarating thrill running through his being, and he stammered, “T-thank you so much. I need that.”

Vickash was so excited after the designer had left that he called his sister to share the good news, and he could hear his mother crying quietly with joy in the background.

It had been a long time since the family had something to be happy about.

The dogs had become quiet since the designer’s visit, sensing that their caregiver might be leaving. Vickash spoke with them, hoping they would understand, “This is a breakthrough I had always hoped for, to uplift my life, to be recognised as a successful designer.”

He took a deep breath and continued, already starting to feel sad, “Though I will have to leave for a while. I will not forget you, and I will come back for all of you.”

They looked at him, not excited, somehow sad.

One month later, he got that call and went to the interview with his mother and Aunt Bethany. Vickash’s story was similar to the designer’s, who had also been different and had faced problems as a young boy.

After discussions, his mother agreed to the conditions and terms. Vickash was given a temporary contract with benefits, including a travel allowance and a furnished apartment.

Three weeks later, Vickash began his dream job.

That morning that he had to leave and bid the dogs “goodbye until later” almost broke him.

They whimpered, not wanting him to leave, and ran behind the car a good way before stopping and turning back. He had turned and looked at them until he couldn’t see them, his heart aching.

“So much heartache in my life,” he had said to himself.

He had left money with the lady at the snackette to give them at least one meal a day and told her that he would send more money with Aunt Bethany.

Three months into his job, he was sent overseas to hone his talent, but before he left, he visited the dogs and spent the day with them. He returned two years later as a young, breakout designer. During that period, he had saved enough to rent a comfortable house of his own and hire a maid and gardener.

“And this is where I start,” he said with confidence.

Not long after, the day came to fulfil his promise to the dogs. He went to the market and found them all in good condition; none had died, and the family had grown with a few new members.

They were so excited to see him, barking, running around, wagging their tails, jumping up to hug him. The snackette lady and a few other vendors, touched by the scene, stated, “They waited patiently for you.”

He took them all with him and announced, “This is now your home, no more living in the streets. I will now have to work hard to become rich and buy that mansion.”

Six years later, he made his first down payment on a beautiful mansion. He became reunited with his family, no one happier than his mother, no one more proud than his sisters. His father still refused to speak to him, and every time he visited home, he went with a different new model vehicle to show the bullies he had made it in life.

Vickash clicked on the TV and leaned back on the sofa with a contented sigh. Sam stretched out on the rug at his feet.

“What a journey!” he expressed quietly.