20th Century Boy Chapter 1

Chapter 1 : (The Encounter)

We accept the love we think we deserve. (Stephen Chbosky) 

In December of 1990, when the month was fading away, a boy stepped off a plane at Lahore airport. Coming back to his motherland gives him a reminiscence of his childhood. The soft rustle of trees, the chirping of joyful birds, and the uproar of the city filled the silence inside him with the humming sounds. The aroma of the town after being washed by mild rain was touching his heart. The day was a little dark like the evening of summer but still, rays of the sun were falling on the road leaving their imprint of brightness. In the cool breeze, while sunshine mildly striking his face, took him to the past when he was a carefree 8-year-old boy who spent most of his time wandering on these roads. 

Within 15 minutes, he arrived at his final destination in LCCHS (old name of DHA), accompanied by his father. His father, the CEO of a real estate company called WZ Limited, dedicated more of his time to the business than to family. Over time, this led to a growing distance within the family. His parents had separated when he was six, due to differing values and lifestyles, which forced him to move to another part of the world, with custody granted to his father. His journey through life had not been easy; he felt like a lost child whose hope had been crushed by harsh circumstances. This traumatic experience left a profound impact on his life, fostering feelings of loss and resentment towards his parents, especially as he had to live without his mother. We all have our sad stories, will this one have a different ending? He asked himself while looking at the house door.

Things change and friends leave and life doesn't stop for anybody. (Stephen)

Now, after 12 years, he is back, the nostalgia of the past mixed with joy and sadness. He is unable to understand what is going on inside him. The burning fire of longing for someone dear he lost in childhood still provokes his anger. He still misses her soft hand when she picks him up and giggles while throwing him in the air. He usually goes to the park with her every Sunday where they play a lot along with others. Being here again is bringing the recollection of the past. These memories still occupy his mind and give him solace in his days of loneliness. 

He had often tried writing letters to her, but she never replied, deepening his disappointment. Nonetheless, a child never forgets his birth mother till the day he dies. This emotional trauma consumes him every day. Yet, on that day, surrounded by the vibrant life and the fragrance of camellias, he held onto a strand of hope with a small smile on his face, determined not to appear weak in the eyes of others. This is how I learned to navigate my childhood. So, this is my life and I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I am trying to figure out how that could be. He spoke to the himself in the large, empty room while looking out of the window.

We can't choose where we come from, but we can choose where we go from there. (Charlie Kelmeckis)

Attending his first day at a university UOL felt strange to him; he knew no one there. He walked through the corridors of the Literature Department, unsure of his place. He wandered aimlessly, trying to gather his thoughts, when suddenly, he heard a familiar voice calling his name.

 “Ali, is that you?” 

He turned instinctively, his heart racing. Who is she, and why was she coming towards him? He took a step back and hesitantly asked, “Who are you?” 

She smiled warmly, her blue eyes sparkling as she responded, “How could you forget me?” This arouses his curiosity even more. A round face with blue eyes sparked a memory of a little girl in his mind - Amara. “Is that you? He tried to guess and the mission accomplished. "Weren't you chubby when we were kids?”

Immediately, she gazed at him with killer eyes. Still the same annoying person from their childhood, she responded. "How did you know it was me?" he asked. “I saw the light in your house, and when I went there, your father told me you were back and had gotten admission at UOL. How have you been, and when did you come back?” she replied.  Ali paused a lump in his throat. "Just yesterday," he finally managed to say. His words were soft, but his heart was heavy, torn between the joy of reconnecting and the sorrow of the years lost.

“So what's the mission of our Captain this time?” she asked, teasingly. It had been a while since anyone called him Captain. He earned that nickname as a mischievous boy in his childhood. His father had been in the military and had held the rank of Captain. As a child, he would often play pretend and imagine himself to be him. Since moving back to Australia, he had lost touch with many of his cherished friends and forgotten how much he enjoyed being called Captain. Hearing the title again surged through him like a rush of adrenaline, that one moment when you know you are not a sad story, You're Alive. With mild tears and a smile on his face.

"Captain, huh?" Ali replied, his voice thick with emotion. He hadn't realized how much he had missed that simple connection to his past.

As children, Ali had a special feeling for her. Her laughter, voice, and eyes always brought happiness to him. She was the one who made him feel special, even when he didn’t deserve it. The affection he felt for her was buried deep, overshadowed by his family’s separation and the trauma that followed. Now, after all those years, those feelings resurfaced with a quiet ache.

“Some things never change,” Ali said softly, more to himself than to Amara. 

So I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we will never know the most of them (Perks of being a wallflower)

Amara looked at him carefully, as if sensing the shift in his tone. “I don’t know, Ali. We’ve both changed. Time does that to people. It pulls them apart, but sometimes it brings them back together too.” Her words hit him harder than he expected.

“Do you ever think about those days?” Amara asked gently. “About us as kids?” 

Ali paused the weight of her question sinking in. Did he think about those days? Of course, he did. How could he not? 

“Every day,” Ali admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I miss those days. I miss...” He wanted to say, “I miss you too,” but remained silent after a long pause, and he looked away, retreating into the safety of his silence. 

As they stood there in the bustling hallway of UOL, surrounded by students who are lost in their own lives, gazing at each other with the spark of new beginning.

You see things and you understand. You are a wallflower.

 

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