On a snowy day, a stone lotus flower silently bloomed and then, it fell.
“ What’s your favourite song?” He asked me.
He looked up at the adult sitting in front of him on the russet office sofa, trying his best to earn for a life.
“When I was a child,
I had a fever
My hands felt just like
Two balloons”
He smiled ruefully, a wave of sadness overcoming him, yet again. He bit the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from crying. Would life ever bloom for him?
“I used to think this song was idiotic. But when you’re hurt, and you sit quietly, you feel as if there’s an error. There’s a fire burning in you, and you can’t do anything. There’s no one to heal you or give you calm. You’re made to live in the pretence that there is no good life for you, ever.’
His chiselled face was buried in his hands, and his ocean blue eyes finally shed tears, as he thought of the his world. He used to do well in school, then suddenly his grades dropped in subjects other than the ones that interested him.
And his parents, like a hyena waiting to strike, bestowed upon him all their anger, worries, frustrations. They forced him to study , something he didn’t want. He had a dream too, to be a radio writer, but they, and their family’s honour would never agree. So he went on, and now he was here, with a psychiatrist chosen by his parents, to stabalize his unstable mental health.
“You seem very depressed and lonely, ” the doctor commented. “No sir, I would dare to disagree. ” Being sad is about being with yourself and accepting the pain in your soul, and the beauty of tears, is realising that they teach us so much. And he knew he didn’t choose to talk much, because no one would understand him. He wasn’t lonely, he was alone.
He left the hospital, and was soon walking down the local sub paths. He got a call, one he had to take.
City life, it had defeated everyone. In the town, there were millions who would work to earn a living. Listen to harsh words just to live by. Give in to inequality, or live without luck. If they were all by themselves, wouldn’t they be cold, sad or lost?
Maybe. And the frustration and no time for themselves would never make them realise, that life can be lived beautifully too.
“Yes, dad?”
“How was the session today? Are you getting any better?”
“Hmm, yes, papa.”
“Ok then go to your maths lessons right from there, and come back by 8, also,” Silence.
He didn’t cut the call, he just wasn’t listening anymore.
.As he stared up, the canvas of cerise pink and lavender hue had melted into the starry sphere. The heavens would cry that night , and the holy waters would fall over. And down came the first snowflake, then another, and many more to follow. The snow, was magically warm and safe. And his heart, drastically dull and drowned. He plugged his earphones, listening to his favourite show, and started wandering through the streets and the city, an activity repeated by him when he felt he was lost.

He went to the building in front of the park, near the city square. From the rooftop, in the cold and tranquil night , when the wind had reached the high branches of trees, and there was no one near him, he shouted out his frustrations. And then, he saw her.
She sat there ,cold as ice. Winter had reached its zenith and she blended right in with the snow. White, cold and still. She just quietly sat on the bench outside the park, staring into space. Then he saw her hands propping her up against the bench and her figure leaning forward. The world continued to revolve around the sun, snow continued to fall, just like after that day she continued to come to sit on that awaiting bench and he continued to wait for her, at the rooftop. His life and its problems had given enough pain to him, but strangely enough, just her sight was the cause of his euphoria. Her Snow White skin, her large round eyes, her plump lips, her long eyelashes and slightly freckled nose looked perfect on her face. Her contrastingly dark clothes seemed just like the perfect fit for her.
Seeing her everyday was a blessing.
Winter slowly passed and spring took over. He thought maybe the change in seasons would inflict
a change in her attitude but he was wrong. Even as it stopped snowing and small flowers started blooming , even as children ran about the park and smiles were neatly etched on everyone’s faces, she still looked the same, stood the same, acted the same as the very first day he saw her.
Soon, spring turned to summer and with the appearance of a bright sun was the disappearance of the girl on the bench.He realised that day, he’d lost her.
A wave of uncertainty, accompanied by anxiety, fear, and grief, overcame him. He was much better those days, he’d stopped all his medical treatment. But she, had disappeared. That night, he didn’t go back home once again, and from the same rooftop, he played the radio again.
A leaf fell off a tree, as from the cold many break down. Not just leaves, even humans. But that day’s broadcast was, something warm and cozy for his cold heart.
`Airplanes, Stars and Broadcasting
Good evening, everyone.
The sky, is ambiguous. The blue shades and the autumn trees. The mild summer breeze. Seasons, they change. The birds fly away. Even the sky’s colour changes. It’s past the day heat now, and it might rain.
So everyone, have you ever noticed, stars, airplanes and broadcasting, they all have one thing in common.?
Here’s the answer from one of our listeners, Gahan7 .
’They all require power in the starting. But you know, no matter how much power I put into it, I’m tired of hiding how I feel. Everything seems to be telling me, it’s changing, but all I see are peaceful stars in the sky.
Night, do you know its colour? It’s One much darker than the usual one, yet there exist stars.
I feel the same. During the last snow, the Christmas when I baked cupcakes, I didn’t feel any pain, my heart was at peace. And now, the summer birds have arrived but I still go back to broadcasting. Things stir up in my life, yet I’m still content.
The village turned to a town, then further in to a busy street of skyscrapers. My feelings changed from longing to anxiousness to just being content in my heart. There really may be no tomorrow. But I still have light left in my eyes. I’ll join the station again, live up to my reason. And rest away. ‘
Our listener has meticulously expressed her love for today’s topic, ‘Broadcasting, and the Night Sky’
Everyone, do you know that we cannot see it, but a reflective layer sits in the sky. That is what makes it possible to do radio shows. The radio signals turn into lights like shining stars, they sparkle in the sky.

That’s why all the signals we send, become beautiful lights in the sky. Sounds sent by the listener. And sounds made by you and me in the booth, are shining in the sky. We make sounds turn to lights. This, is radio.
Here’s our song for today:
I’d sit alone and watch your light
My only friend through teenage nights And everything I had to know
I heard it on my radio
Radio Ga Ga by Queen, remember you have to listen and enjoy the song with the rain!’’’
The sound of the summer rain coming down, and the colour of the sky. He felt as if life had locked him in, but he finally knows the exit.
In the rain, he got wet, and the sky brought the most mesmerising, elegant views, like pieces of an
unprecedented level of artistic mastery. Seasons change.
Life changes. Now it was time for him too. But time for what? What was this rain saying with its patter?
He didn’t know. But he just gave in, his sacrifice finally culminating in an epiphany. A sudden revelation. Maybe he’d always known it.
It was, what he craves for. He can’t live a day without broadcasts. He longs to see the girl again. Other things, he yearns to have delicious food, he wants to sleep well, work well. That’s it. Nowhere are his parents or studies or anything else. None of them matters. He knew, he had to quit the things that would grow onto him and be too toxic for him in the future, and adamant to not leave. He knew he had to start right away for his dream. But more than all that, he knew now, what a happy life meant.
A smile spread across his face, like the warm sunshine in a field of olive green grass. He made his way back to the building.
Living a good life. Since sleeping well is a good thing. Waking up well, eating well, working well and getting good rest are enough. And if you sleep well at night, that’s what you call a really good life. Just the simple things, the simple meanings, the simple moments, and the happiness they bring. His life was already a bloomed edelweiss; he realised the only thing missing was the sunshine that hadn’t found it yet.
But the girl, the radio, and the snow, the most unexpected elements had made him understand, the meaning of a good life.