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The cup stood in his sight. Right in front of him. Waiting for him to lift it. Here in front of his eyes. Victory at Last.
He lifted the cup amidst all those who watched with eagerness. He lifted it with glee. This was an experience he had been waiting for. He glared at it lest it slip from his grip. It was a cup that he had wanted to lift for such a long time. He glared at it with wonder with a sense of disbelief.
In all the euphoria surrounding him, he did not forget the pains of getting here over the past twelve months. He had made it here after so much effort. And so much luck. He knew it might have been otherwise. That this day might have never come. He thanked the Almighty for his mercy.
He could sense sweat forming on his forehead. A few drops of tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. His wife, his son and his family were waiting to celebrate his win from a distance. The faces of his near and dear ones swelled with pride. His friends, some of whom, had given up on this dream ever coming true, only a few months back, felt a sense of shame on their thoughts. Some of them clapped with a sense of vengeance.
Sure, he was a fighter. But he was filled with humility on this day which he had never imagined would come.
His mouth and lips quivered as the cup rose as he lifted it and got it closer to his mouth. He looked with contentment at the new arm that had replaced the one amputated after that accident last year. Taking a sip from the cup he had lifted with excruciating effort for the first time, he cried out, “My Cup of Joy.”
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