My Regular System

Lights on the street flickered as a wind passed them. It was in the middle of December, the climate was chilling and people could feel their bones shivering from cold.

The nights that everyone loved were becoming unbearable. Every person on the street was wearing an extra layer of clothes on themselves.

In this chilly night, the small shops and restaurants were all open. Serving hot and smoking food to their customers. It was the season where such shops profited a lot.

And at the alley where we are, was a small restaurant at the end named ‘The Rising Star’. Just like its name, the hotel was souring in heights in terms of profits. Be it the food or service, it was getting better day by day than other shops.

The shops owner was an old man named ‘Arun Gupta’ a gentle and kind man. His motive for the restaurant was not only to earn money but serve quality food and service to his customers.

With him was a small staff of 8 people, 4 in kitchen and 3 for serving. The Staff generally called him ‘Mr.Gupta’.

Mr.Gupta, though kind, was strict about hygiene and time. So the staff feared him but respected him as well.

It was time to close the restaurant. Everyone was standing outside as Mr.Gupta pulled down the shutter.

“Hey, where’s he?” When one of the staff asked, everyone looked around them to find ‘him’. But he was no where to be seen.

Mr.Gupta got up and called out loudly, “Vish, where are you!?”

“Going home” in return came a voice from far away in the alley and they all saw a blurry silhouette of a boy turning around the corner.

“Hah, as slick as always.” The others chuckled.

This boy, Vish was just another of the staff in the restaurant. However, he was the youngest of them all. He was only 16, working as a waiter in the restaurant.

Vish was an orphan, who had been adopted by his foster father when he was 2. Since then, he had lived with the man. But his father died of cancer when he was only 10, leaving Vish alone in the world yet again.

Vish had been broken twice, as he grew up. First knowing that he was an adopted child and second that even his foster parent had died. He believed, that god had no wish to let him be happy.

‘Maybe I am not his favourite?’ he would think to himself whenever something bad happened.

Vish had grown up to be a lone child and so he had to take care of everything on his own since he was a child. As such, he had become responsible. And to boot, he was smart. He studied hard so he could live comfortably.

But when a person faces too many adversaries, all they see is dark side of life. Vish never considered his smartness or responsible behaviour to be a gift from god. He saw them as a struggle in his life.

Why would he not?

Because he was smart, the kids in the school were jealous of him. And some of them had started to bully him since 8th grade. It was rough, being on the beating side of the group. He had bruises on his bodies sometimes and sometimes even wounds.

But who could he complaint to? The teachers did not pay attention and except them, there was no one else.

“Hah,…it so cold” Vish whispered, wearing only a single T-Shirt making him shiver in the cold. Since he did not have much of an income, Vish avoided buying excessive of anything.

“I have yet to start studying. The part-time is taking most of the time in the night. I guess, I will have to pull some all-nighters.”

As Vish walked by the road, he spotted an old man sitting at the corner of the alley near his house. He was covered in a tattered blanket and was shivering from cloth.

Vish looked at him, his mind wandered to what his foster father had told him in his last days.

“Always stay kind Vish, always.”

He looked at the man and then at his house and walked away. The old man looked at the back of the walking boy and sighed and kept shivering in the cold.

After several minutes, Vish ran outside and looked at the old man, his hand occupied with a fluffy blanket. Then he moved towards the man and covered him with the blanket. Taking his hand he put some money in his hand.

That was the money he had only left. But since it was the near of the end of month, he would be receiving his salary. So without much thought, he gave the money to the old man.

“Th…thank You. You are a good kid.” The old man patted Vish’s head and smiled.

Vish didn’t say anything and returned to his house.

‘Good kid? Whats the use? All I have been getting is bad luck my entire life. Guess being good doesn’t matter to the world nor the almighty god.’

He sighed heavily and stared at the moon and then the old man. Shaking his head, Vish entered the house and closed the door, behind him leaving the old man,…who chuckled slightly.

As soon as he entered his house, Vish looked around. This was his foster fathers house.

Since the man was not married and had no relatives, the house now belonged to Vish,…officially. That was at least a good thing he believed.

The house had a bedroom, one kitchen and a small hall. It wasn't too big nor too small. It was perfect for two people.

“Guess I will start now itself…” Vish went to his bedroom and took out some books, stationary and sat on the bed to study.

His goal was to study as hard as he could, so he could get a great scholarship to enter a good College. He wished to be a programmer and to achieve that, he wanted to get the best college.

A diploma would be difficult if he scored less marks, so he could not afford to slack off. Half the night, the light in his bedroom stayed on, only then to be switched off. He slept, being happy that he did some study for the day, while some plans were being made for his future…that he didn’t know.