Sad Banchi

Banchi used to believe the island loved him. He remembered the days when his old friends laughed beside him, calling his name as the sun rose over the palm trees. But slowly, their voices changed. Jokes turned sharp. Smiles became whispers. They laughed at him instead of with him. “You don’t belong here anymore,” they said. Banchi didn’t argue. He just listened. Every word fell heavier than the last, sinking deep into his heart. When they finally left, they didn’t look back. Now Banchi sits alone in his pot, tears tracing the same paths down his face again and again. The island is still bright, but it no longer feels warm. The palm leaf above his head sways, yet it offers no comfort—only a reminder of happier days that will never return. He wonders if he was ever truly wanted, or if he was only useful when he made others laugh. The waves keep moving. The sun still rises. But for Banchi, the island has grown quiet—and so has his hope.