Ilyich and the Clouds

The clouds flitted by over Ilyich’s head and he watched them drift lazily, travelling where the wind took them. The gnawing feeling in his belly had come back this morning after a long period of absence and he tried ignoring it, concentrating on the shapes the clouds above him made. It had rained in the morning and there were still some angry ones that showered droplets down him. Tired after a hard day’s work at digging the furrows, he decided to take a short break before heading home. Now a strapping young lad of fifteen, Ilyich had been working on his father’s farm since he was ten. This was far earlier than usual in the village and had raised many an eyebrow, but Ilyich proved his father right. An intelligent and observant boy he would do his chores completely and well. Having been brought up amongst them, Ilyich’s friends were the animals, the wind and the clouds. In his free time he would spend long hours walking in the woods and picking berries and mushrooms, or sitting in the barnyard watching the chickens feed. All in all, he was a boy who made his parents proud. If there was one failing Ilyich had, it was that he was in a sense, self-absorbed. He would never mingle with the other boys and girls in the village and despite their numerous attempts at getting him to join them he would turn a deaf ear to their pleas. He refused to rejoice in their happiness or console them in their sorrow. Ilyich was content with himself, his pastimes and his toys. Although for a long while, a few of them would still look expectantly as he walked up the road past their houses, or came into town to collect the weekly mail, soon most of the boys and girls in the village gave up on him considering him a strange lad best left alone. All this suited Ilyich just fine while he was still a child. As he turned thirteen however, he became aware of a gnawing feeling in his belly, a sense that something was missing. However, by this time, Ilyich had started getting quite busy on the farm helping out his old man and the feeling did not trouble him much, until today.

Now, as he lay on the grass still damp from the morning’s shower, his hands forming a pillow beneath his head, and the sunlight teasing his face between sporadic drizzle, Ilyich once again became aware of that feeling. At first he tried thinking of what was troubling him but his mind soon tired of the chase and wandered off into the past. He started thinking of his childhood and how quickly it had been spent. Of the partridge nest he had come across during one of his walks in the woods and the fury of the mother who sensed a threat to her little ones. Of the times he had spent, watching his mother feed the chicken and the way they fought over the grains falling from her hand. By and by, Ilyich became aware of something quite strange. He realized that every time he dwelled on a happy thought, a burdened cloud above him would shower down some droplets. And every time his mind was weighed down with a sad thought, like the time his pet parrot died, there would be a thin cloud that let the sun through, so it warmed his face. He noticed that this happened for most of his thoughts, and also that the happier his thoughts were, the heavier it rained! Though he enjoyed the feel of raindrops on his cheeks, at one point – when thinking of the time his parents got him a puppy for Christmas – there was such a heavy downpour that Ilyich decided enough was enough and got up to go home. As that heavy shower now showed no signs of abating, he decided to take a short cut through the woods. Walking along, he came across a clearing occupied by an old man, who on closer investigation, turned out to be the ‘Wise Old Man’ as he was popularly - and sometimes jocularly - known in the village. And he looked wise indeed, as he sat there in meditation, his eyes closed and his long white beard reaching down to his knees. Ilyich had heard rumours that he was more than a 100 years old, but looking at him one would have thought he was no older than 50. Though he had no reason to, something made Ilyich approach him, cautiously and on tip-toe, not wanting to wake him and half-fearing the consequences of doing so.

As he came closer however, the old man opened his eyes, looked at him fully and said “Come on young man, don’t be afraid. Tell me – what is troubling you?” Whether it was the reassuring melody of the man’s voice or the deep, deep look in his eyes, we will not know, but Ilyich responded “O Wise Father, for I know you are wise indeed – I observed a strange thing today that’s been troubling me no end. I was lying in the farm – after finishing my work, of course – and noticed that the clouds above me behaved according to my thoughts – that they rained on me when my thoughts were happy, but were light and thin when my thoughts were sad and heavy. Could you please tell me what this means?” The wise man smiled gently and replied “Son, it is quite simple. You have made friends of the wind and the clouds. They are but souls and hearts like us and were following the basic principle that all things follow. When a burdened cloud sensed that your heart was light, it shed some of its load on you, secure in the knowledge that you would not be troubled by it. On the other hand, when your heart was heavy and clouded, a light cloud would spread even thinner, that you received the sunlight and felt more at peace. It is the same, with the other boys and girls in the village whom you have until now shunned. Go, mingle with them, share your joys and sorrows, and you will feel complete. And so saying, the old wise man closed his eyes and was lost once again in deep thoughts about heaven knows what. Ilyich went on his way, a curious lightness in his heart as he determined to follow the wise old man's advice.

Sure enough, on doing so the gnawing in his belly vanished and Ilyich was no longer considered a stranger in his own town. Many years later however, as he flitted from friend to friend in his pursuit of happiness, he realised that occasionally, he missed the clouds and the wind. He felt, though vaguely, another kind of longing creeping into him, this time in his heart. A longing to be free...free of the relentless cycle of give and take. And mixed in with this feeling was a small twinge of regret that he had come across that wise old man...