Chapter 3: A Promise of Friendship

The park was bustling with the sweet symphony of birdsong, harmonizing gentle breeze rustling leaves and chirping crickets. Golden afternoon sunlight was filtering through the trees, illuminating the scattered paper balls surrounding the boy's feet, each one a rejected story idea.

“Hey, Earth to paper thrower! I don’t know what you’re up to, but back in America, it’s considered a bad habit littering in a public park. You are turning this beautiful park into your personal trash can!”

That 13-year-old boy, was sitting solitary on a swing in a park, lost in a whirlwind of creativity, finally snapped out of it to meet my gaze. He blinked, momentarily speechless, staring at me with his pen still hovering near his mouth.

A gentle breeze was flipping the pages of the boy's notebook and scattering crumpled papers around his feet. He jolted from his creative trance, face flushing red as he noticed the mess.

“Oh no! I-I didn't realize... I'm so sorry! In India, we also have strict rules about this... I was just trying to write this story and... I got carried away with it.”

“Ooh, are you writing a story? I love stories! My big brother always tells me good bedtime stories! Big brother, can we help him clean up? Pretty please? I want to hear his stories,” Alia, who was standing beside me tugging on my sleeve, bounced forward with childlike enthusiasm. Her eyes were twinkling with unusual wisdom.

“Well, it seems someone's having a creative crisis, more like a paper snowstorm. But these aren't trash, but stories... unfinished dreams... These stories are too good to let them stay on the ground. Alright then, let me help you to pick them up for you,” I offered my otherworldly wisdom as I examined all the crumpled papers.

“You really don't have to... this is my mess...” the boy said, frantically gathering papers while stealing glances at his notebook. As he clutches his notebook tightly, a gust of wind threatened to scatter his loose papers further across the park.

Alia and I shared a knowing glance with an otherworldly nature hidden in our friendly smiles. I stepped forward with determination, making the place warmer.

“Don’t worry. We would like to help.”

Hearing me, the boy looked down at the scattered papers and a faint blush creeped up his cheeks.

“Thanks, guys. I... thank you for your help.”

As the three of us worked together, the mountain of crumpled ideas slowly started shrinking. In no time at all, we gathered every last paper balls and threw them into the dustbin.

“Sorry about the mess... I got carried away with my new plot twist and... but thank you both. You really helped me a lot,” the boy said, Clutching one of the paper balls in his hand tighter. A mix of embarrassment and a lit smile was evident on his gloomy face.

He then made his way back to the swing. Alia and I settled onto the swings beside him. The rhythmic creak of the chains was a gentle counterpoint to Saurabh’s woes. I shared a knowing glance with Alia and then shifted my gaze at the boy.

"Hey, it seems you're really deep into creating something epic there. That notebook of yours is a chaotic masterpiece. What were you doing in it?” I asked, glancing at the tattered, dishevelled notebook resting on his lap.

“I... I…,” the boy hesitated, clutching his notebook closer to his chest.

Some loose pages fluttered out, landing softly at Alia's tiny feet. She leaned forward, gathering the scattered pages, her eyes scanning them with curiosity.

“Ooh! Big brother, look! These drawings are amazing!”

She passed me those pages. I examined those pages and I found myself mesmerized by the detailed illustrations in it.

“Hey, you've got some serious talent there. These drawings are actually impressive. So, why are you throwing them all away?”

He paused for a moment after hearing me. His eyes dropped to the ground, avoiding mine, as he fidgeted with his fingers. I was trying to read his face. After what felt like an eternity, he whispered,

“If I tell you, you’ll probably laugh and make fun of me.”

“What? No, of course not. I would never do that. You have my word; I won’t laugh at you, I promise,” I reassured him.

Why would I ever do that? As the Guardian Deity of Earth, it is my sacred duty to listen to the prayers of mortals and offer guidance. Over the millennia, I have encountered countless strange and outlandish prayers, yet I have never once laughed at them. You hold a unique place in my heart, then why would I ever make fun of you?

Saurabh, after hearing my words, seemed to relax a bit and shared,

“Because... the story was not good enough for my manga. I’m a huge fan of Animes and Mangas. I... I want to be India's first manga artist, you know. I want to be a famous manga author, like Oda Eiichiro, Kishimoto Masashi, Hajime Isayama or even Akira Toriyama,” he confessed, Clutching his notebook against his chest.

“I... I am good with illustrations, but when it comes to stories... I just keep messing up with it. The art is nothing without a good story, you know. Maybe I should just give up on it,” he said as his gaze was dropping in embarrassment.

"Why are you saying that? You must keep trying. Those who try never lose. success will eventually find you. Why not ask your friends for help?" I encouraged, meeting his eyes with a reassuring smile.

“Well… the thing is… They’re all away for summer vacation with their families to different places, and I'm stuck here alone,” he sighed as he scrunched his nose in frustration.

“I did ask my friends for help with the stories. But they never been much help. They suggest I should just copy some existing manga plots, tweak a few elements and there and call it my own... But that feels... wrong. I want something original, something that's truly mine! I can't keep living in other people's shadows! I want to create something totally new!” He exclaimed, throwing a fist into the air.

I anticipated you would say this. You've always been the type to forge your own path, refusing to follow someone else’s. No matter how difficult and challenging that path might be.

The chains of the swing creaked a gentle rhythm in the afternoon breeze. I leaned in, captivated while gently swaying on my swing. A knowing smile played on my lips.

“You know, back in California, I won some story writing contests.  Not to brag or anything, but writing stories is my passion. At the moment, I do have a new story I’m working on…”

Saurabh's eyes grew wide, a spark of hope igniting deep within him, dispelling the shadows of his earlier gloom.

“Wait... you write stories?”

“Yes, Big brother's stories are magical! They're unlike you've ever read before!” Alia exclaimed, bouncing excitedly as she peeked at me.

“Really? Wow! Well, if that's the case... how about lending a hand with my story?” He exclaimed, bouncing in excitement.

His words sounded magical to my ears. These were the words I had longed to hear to initiate my plan. A knowing smile crept on my face. I tapped my chin, pretended to be in deep thinking.

“Well… I could do that for you… but sharing my latest story comes… with a price.”

Saurabh felt a lump in his throat as soon as the word "price" escaped my lips. His heart raced wildly, pounding against his chest like a drum. A wave of anxiety washed over him, mingling with a flicker of curiosity about what that word "price" truly meant. Summoning every ounce of courage he could muster, he asked,

“A... a price? What kind of price?”

The afternoon sun stretched its golden rays, creating elongated shadows that danced over the park swing while Saurabh held his breath, waiting for the impossible to unfold. But building an enough dramatic suspense, I finally shrugged, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

“Well, the price you have to pay will be… you must be friends with me and Alia.  I can’t just share my stories with anyone, you know.”

Hearing my words, the initial worry of Saurabh melted away, giving way to a broad, heartfelt grin. He sighed, as if he had just dodged an unpleasant revelation. With his notebook held close to his heart, he exclaimed with enthusiasm,

“Deal! I... I'd love to pay that price… I mean, I would like to be your friend!”

He leaped off his swing a broad smile lighting up his face as he approached me, extending his hand,

“I'm Saurabh Tendulkar by the way, and I live just around the corner.”

“Nice to meet you, Saurabh! I'm Andy Tennyson, and this is my little sister, Alia,” I said, reaching out for a handshake while studying him with my otherworldly intensity.

Alia also greeted, waving her hand enthusiastically and her pigtails dancing. Her bright eyes shimmered with an infectious energy.

“Tennyson? That’s not the last name I hear often. Are you two foreigners? Are you here for a vacation tour?” Saurabh asked curiously. I smiled and nodded affirmatively.

“Ya, sort of. We’re actually here to spend summer vacation with our nanny. We are from California, you know.”

“California? You mean, you’re from America? Wow! That's so cool! I've always wanted to travel to America,” His eyes widened in admiration as he bounced in excitement.

“But… you mentioned you are here to see your nanny. So, does that mean, you guys are, like, NRIs?” he scratched his head thoughtfully.

“Yeah, something like that. My mom is Indian, and my dad is American. It’s a pretty cool mix, right?” I replied, puffing out my chest slightly.

Of course, my tale is entirely fictional. I had to hide my true identity from him to keep the promise I made to Father. The expression on Shin’s face revealed that he was convinced by my narrative.

“Yah! That's a pretty cool mix of cultures!” he replied as his enthusiasm was bubbling over.

A gentle breeze whispered through the banyan tree, making the leaves dance in a soothing melody. Saurabh held his sketchbook closer while his eyes darting at us. His eyes were gleaming with enthusiasm.

“Hey Andy, since you are both here for the summer, why not come over to my place?”

“At your place?” I asked, feigning astonishment.

“Yes. It's not too far from here. I've got a huge collection of manga, and maybe... maybe you could share more about your new story… and about America. Oh, and my mom makes the best Samosas. I bet you've never tried one! We can munch on Samosas while brainstorming on my manga in my room,” he said excitedly.

“Sure, why not? Sounds like a plan. Lead the way, Saurabh!” I said, rising from the swing.

We followed Saurabh, leaving behind the lively park bustling with energy. Two tiny squirrels scampered down from the Banyan tree, nibbling on the fallen red figs as they watched us depart.

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