The Statue (Story)

                                The Statue

 This story was shared by Achyuth Sankar

"What comes easily is never respected".......




The sculptor walked onto the sand with just a bag containing a chisel and a hammer. There was a magnificent rock,the size of a young lad. The sculptor could smell the beach,but he had no time to experience the soothing smell. He was going to give life to that piece of stone, and nothing was going to disturb him. He couldn't hear the faint knock-knock sound coming from a little far away. To him, the stone was everything.


The sculptor began his task. He began slowly, starting with the eyes. He made them big and expressive, almost life-like. The eyebrows were shaped like the thatched roofs of mansions, an almost perfectly inverted V. The nose was sharp and long, with big nostrils. It took the sculptor four hours to get this much done, but he was as patient as a loving mother would be to her baby. Nothing disturbed him, not the birds, not the crashing of the waves, not the knocking noise from afar. The sun began it's descent, and a small shadow began forming at the base of the stone. Like all else, the sculptor took no heed of this. He went back home right after he finished the nose.


He came back early next morning. He was determined to finish the statue. He worked on the hair,long and thick hair. He then went on to finish the legs with great detail. He worked on the toes, then the ankle, and then the knees. By the time he had reached the waist, it was afternoon, the sun was right at the top. Strangely though, the shadow which was once at the statue's base had now reached up to its thighs. The sculptor hadn't seen it though. He sat down for a small lunch of fruits. As he sat on the sand to peel off the skin of the orange, a child came by selling balloons. The sculptor took pity on the frail waif. He called the child over. The child, seeing a potential customer, eagerly rushed forward. The sculptor peeled his first orange and gave it to the child. To her hungry stomach, food was as good as a sold balloon. The child and the sculptor sat and ate the fruits together in savoured silence, as the sun began its descent once again, and the shadow, its ascent. They finished the food, and the sculptor began picking up the peels and putting them in his bag, as the child got up with her balloon bag.  Before leaving, the child gave a grateful smile and began walking away. Before disappearing into the horizon the child yelled, "That's a beautiful boy". The sculptor could hear the faint sound of the child. He smiled, but he still couldn't hear the knock-knock sound in the distance. The shadow, by then, had touched the statue's chest.


The sculptor finished the hands. He gave immense detail to the palm and the fingers. He worked on the shoulders, reasonably broad, then the chest. He etched a shirt and a pair of shorts, and the statue was given the finishing touch of thick lips that curved into a slight smile. The statue was finished, but fate had plans of its own.


The sculptor took a look at his statue. It was marvellous, resonating innocence and nobility. But something was off. There was no knock-knock sound, only the waves disturbed the eerie tranquillity. The statue looked really dark. The sculptor's gaze reached its base, and he caught sight of the shadow trailing away into the distance. The shadow had completely darkened the statue. The sculptor sat down, waiting for the sun to move so that the shadow's cloak would be lifted, and the true beauty of his work could be marvelled at. The shadow didn't move, and neither did the sun. They both stayed their ground. The sculptor got up and decided the trace the origin of the shadow. He walked a long way, determined to find the Colossus that overshadowed an innocent child's image. He finally reached his destination, and the sight that beheld him took his breath away. There was a statue, slightly bigger than his own. It depicted a boy and a girl facing the horizon, holding hands. There was genuine love on their faces, and the skill of its creator was so great that even the tenderness with which they held each other's hands was visible. The sculptor stood in front of this work of art. He saw the joy radiate from their faces, as the innocence of youthful love danced in their eyes. The girl was stunning, the boy was average looking, but both were perfect for each other. The sculptor noticed a hammer and a chisel kept at the base of this statue. The sculptor picked them up to examine them. They looked brand new, no wear and tear. It seemed impossible, miraculous. He waited there for a whole hour, hoping to see the great man who performed this impossible feat. No one came. The sculptor took this special hammer and chisel, with the hope that he could also imbibe life into his statue, and give it the same royalty that this statue had. He could see no way of making his statue any better. He then realized, it was what the statue lacked- a companion. The sculptor set out to find a stone of considerable size and quality. But every stone he came across was either too small or large, or too weak to handle the strain of the chisel. He gave up. He made one final change to the boy's face. He gave it an expression of sorrowful expectation, the one of a man lost in this world, without a companion\, and he made the boy look like he has fallen on his knees, begging escape. The sculptor left the miraculous hammer and chisel at the base of his own statue. He packed his things, and set off at a slow pace. If only he could somehow make the world see his love for that statue, it would outshine the love between any boy and girl. Before leaving the beach behind, he turned around and gave one last look. The sun still stayed where it was, the shadow ever imposing, his statue all alone. The sculptor walked away with resignation.


Every day, the sculptor would look at his statue from the distance. Nobody stopped by to see it. Who would want to see an over-shadowed statue that doesn't have everything? After all, joy was just round the corner. The sculptor secretly hoped that someone would find the appropriate stone and use the miraculous hammer and chisel to give light to his darkened statue, a companion. Every time he gazed from the distance, he could hear the waves crashing, and he felt they were weeping in agony, seeing such neglect. The one person who had once appreciated the beauty of his statue, the balloon selling child, would walk past it every day, but even she forgot about it. Despite himself, he looked at it from far away every single morning. Despite himself, he gave himself the idea that nature would show mercy and erase the down-casting shadow. Despite himself, he hoped.


                                                                                - Achyuth Sankar

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