Fishing Gun

It was on a late afternoon when a young man came to our house.

He was in great pain since his right leg was pierced through by a iron spear of a fishing gun. Apparently he was hunting for fish and prawns when the incident occurred. It could be the fast running water which caused the diversion of the spear into his leg.

He looked calm and under control, though you could see that he was shivering and trembling in pain. He came alone, walking slowly along the narrow trail. There were people watching and following him. A few of them gathered outside our house. It could be that our car was the only few around at that time or because he knew that we were always ready to help others in need.

He was really shy though. I presumed he was in his early twenties. My wife started the conversation while I got ready. Then we helped to carry him to the back seat of the car. Leaving the children behind with my in-laws, we sent the young man to the local clinic.

The air was again filled with dust and fume as our old car roared on the narrow and stony road. The clinic was 15 minutes away. But we had a bumpy and a very slow drive.

We finally reached the clinic. We waited for a moment before the hospital assistant arrived. It was my former school mate and my boy scouts captain. We greeted one another and laugh heartily, remembering all our wonderful years in school.

My dear friend examined the wound. The spear didn’t pierce through the bone. What a great relief! I looked at my friend closely. He had grown old and bald, and had become more reserved and solemn. I wondered if it was the effects of his job or the fact that he was married and became a father to many children. But I could see that he really enjoyed his work. He related to me that this was a common phenomenon among village folks and always occurred when the river water was low and clear. Now it took him quite a while to remove the spear and to treat the wound. He was sweating profusely and looked worn out, but he was satisfied. He was always confident in his work, and always ready with a broad smile. I really saluted him for that.

The young man looked fine and cheerful again, though it took him quite a while before he recovered fully. He continued to hunt for fish and prawns after that, but he was getting more careful.

Sometimes, I loved to sit by the river bank alone, watching the villagers in action and sharing their joy when they caught hold of big fish and prawns. But I would never go near them or their fishing guns.......


Rena said...

Great article, and I like your profile message too. Thanks!