He was the oldest inmate of the Central Jail. Being in solitary confinement, he kept to the world of his own thoughts. He had no friends, except a wasp that shared his cell with him.

The cell had two high windows which were the only link between him and the outer world. The left (while facing the solid steel door) window was covered with glass, but afforded him a view of the clear blue sky in summer and the dark clouds in the months of monsoon. But it was through the open right window that the morning gale would burst in with the fragrance of jasmine, bringing with it sweet memories of his childhood and youth.

Every morning, the wasp would rise with the sun. Following the sunbeam entering through the left window, it tried in vain to pass through the glass which separated it from the eternal blue outside. Exhausted, it returned to its nest and awaited the next sunrise. The prisoner watched this daily exercise with mingled curiosity and sympathy. It was very much within his power to open the window and let the wasp through, but this he did not. What if it did not return? He would lose his only friend. Nor did the wasp really want to leave him because otherwise, why did it not use the right window?

Days passed, perhaps weeks or months, but the prisoner could not say because in his cell, time did not move forward – it kept repeating in endless cycles of day and night. His friendship with the wasp constantly grew. He would offer it a share of his own food, talk to it, sing and tell stories. He felt like they knew each other intimately. Even when it stung him, he bore no grudge because it is not very difficult to forgive your only friend. With each setting sun, the distinction between the prisoner and the wasp diminished in the consciousness of both.

One morning, which was no different from any other morning, when the wasp was engaged in its routine struggle, the prisoner could stand it no more. How long would he restrain his friend against its own will? Let it go wherever it wants to go and fulfill the dreams that he cannot. Let it fly over the beautiful country which he will never again see. Let his friend attain the heights that are forever denied to him. After all, aren’t they the same in spirit; doesn’t his joy lie in that of the wasp? He made up his mind to free his companion. Rising from his seat, he stretched on his toes and opened the window. The wasp kissed a good bye on his wrinkled hand and flew into the vast expanse without; he felt a sting of joy in his callous heart.

That night the wasp did not return to find the lifeless body of its friend leaning against the right wall and gazing serenely through the open window at faraway stars that twinkled in delight.

Salvaged from the author’s now banned blog on Blogster, first published on June 3, 2006 under the username meanderthalis