The Old Man and The Sea

“Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.”

These were the last lines of a small book which I picked up from a shelf tagged as "Classics" in a book shop. It was a little boring and I was quite inattentive while reading, chiefly due to the simplistic and minimalistic writing style which conflicted with my expectation of highly sophisticated style, especially because of its abode in the "Classics" shelf. Nevertheless I was desperately looking forward to the story, amidst my contradictory yawns, waiting for the fate of that old man to unfold. He is a fisherman with white beard and deep wrinkles, dwelling in a Cuban coastal town whose worn out pants stink with fish. Who has been returning from the sea every single of the last 84 days without catching any fish. All the fishermen from his neighborhood laugh and make fun of him, call his boat the unluckiest one, except a boy. A small boy with whom he used to sail, whom he taught fishing since the boy was five. Who, now by the strict order of his parents has to fish with other 'lucky' fishermen. He brings him food, he talks to him. He takes care of the old man in a strange unspoken way, mending the blatancy of words.

Before dawn of the eighty fifth day, the boy helps him prepare and wishes him good luck. The old man unfastens his skiff from the rock and sets out, hoping to catch a big fish he has been looking for since the last eighty four days.

After three days and nights of sleepless sailing, far in the deep seas, on a starry night the old man returns.. returns with...

And in the next morning,

“Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.”

were the last lines of a small book which I picked up from a shelf.

What makes it so special? I am not good enough with words and articulation of my thoughts to put the reasons into an understandable clear prose, why did it hit me so much? For the old man, was that a heart wrenching defeat or the greatest victory in its own wonderful sense? is that really the most important question? or the question should be "did it make him loose all the hopes and give up? with his deep blue eyes, defeated? or was he so very at peace, dreaming of lions that he once saw on the African beaches when he was young?"

Its was a story told with simple words and with a simple ending, still and all, left behind an extraordinary impression and an unsettling feeling. I did put that small novel back in its place on the wooden shelf, with its bound side outside, vertically showing off "The Old Man and The Sea - Ernest Hemingway". Then looked at the tag "Classics" and found a slow smile spreading across my face.