Short story series:

Soul searching

Hello,

I am a soul. I was living in a human body before but anymore. This is my story.

I was one happy soul roaming freely in heaven until one day Jesus the Christ approached and spoke to me in his own sugar-coated pleasant voice that could melt even the hardest of devil into a pussy cat licking its toes. He said that I am the chosen one to go down to Earth and experience life in a special human body. That human body is a little precious baby. Its skin colour is black, dark black like the colour of his mother’s womb. What a beautiful baby. Which soul wouldn’t want to live in such a beautiful bundle of delight?

But wait, I looked back at Jesus and asked, ‘Are you sure you want me to live in that body. I mean as much as I love that baby, its skin colour is black. And you very well know how the black skinned humans are treated in that part of Earth”. Jesus thought for a moment, looked straight back into my eyes and said, "My dear Soul, I am with you. Take this birth and experience this beautiful human life. You will be just fine." I took his words for granted for he is Jesus Christ, I mean THE Jesus Christ.

So finally, I am here on Earth taking birth as a beautiful baby boy. My parents aptly name me Christian. I am surrounded with love soaked in blanket of emptiness at home (quite literally) when sharing and caring among neighbours who are family extended or not, is a must to survive and go by. It’s a nice society, not at the most decent but you will feel the warmth. My community is just above poor many a times slipping back to poverty like it’s a given. Life here is a struggle. But I am not complaining. You get to dream; feel emotions; look forward for a better future.

We are willing to struggle with the hope our kids will have a better life. We hope to achieve balance in this uneven society. There is faith in God. My hood believes that our kids will grow up to live in a country of true human love that transcends skin colour. Well, they say, hope is free of charge.

Fast forward to me being almost a grown man, not that I have a stable job, but just got trained to be a painter and will be joining my first contract next week. My brain is conducting its own contest on which car to buy, the $1500 sedan from my brother-in law or save up and buy a better car in couple of months. If I get a car soon, I can be a chauffeur to my little sister for her school drop offs and pickups . I can help my mum out with groceries. Having a car could help us in so many ways.

With that contest almost settling on $1500 sedan on this sunny Sunday after church gathering, I am heading back home from our corner store. I owe the shop owner $50. But he is a nice old chap. He knew I would pay him in a week's time or two. He is happy that I got myself a job.

Just when I am about to have a smoke a nice-looking police officer approaches me. He wanted to do his normal check on me. As I am black and poor, I very well fit the bill of an ideal criminal. He is flicking buttons on his radio while listening to information from his base on some black guy description. I mean he is in black community, and we all look the same for them I guess, no matter the description!

These police checks are not new. But this Sunday, my gut feeling is not right. I am not a criminal. But I am completely fed up with these police interrogations. I mean, why should I be looked upon as a criminal just because I am black? So, this time, I refused to cooperate. I said, "Leave me alone officer. I am not a criminal, go catch a real one."

Oops I hurt his delicate ego!

As I walked away from him, he rushed towards me. I rushed further away from him with my smokes going down to waste. I could hear him shout,

"stop moving”.

But I don't care to stop. I just want to get out of there.

“Stop moving, or I will shoot”.

In a matter of seconds, we both heard boom, boom, boom.

Damn it's all over. That precious little baby who was a grown-up young man full of hopes and dreams is no more, somebody shot him. It was a ‘white’ police officer.

The soul of Christian has reached Jesus Christ. That soul looks down on Earth and cries in agony. The pain and agony of that half-lived soul is thunderous. Its inconsolable crying is pouring down on Earth as rain. That rain is washing the blood on that bloody footpath where Christian was shot. That body is as cold as ice, no feeling, just thick black skin and muscles. No tomorrow, no dreams, no nothing. But that police officer who killed Christian still has a life, still have dreams for him and his kids. He could be promoted. His family will be protected. Somewhere, some, if not many people will hold placards, if this gets reported in the news, which depends on if any deviation is needed at the congress based on which congressmen(or women) is trying to be saved from their political errors.

Christian’s mother, his little sister, their street and the hood will carry his burden and the pain of his loss as long as their poverty can be carried, which is for ever.

Now should I, the soul of Christian forgive that white human? Jesus Christ will ask me to do so. But this time, I don't want to listen to Jesus. He did me wrong once. This soul of Christian may want to avenge his killer. But what choice do I have! They say karma works in different ways, but I think it's a consolation told to the victims to protect the wrong-doers in general. What do you think?