Sitting at edge of the enormous cavea, I am facing its long flow down into the empty amphitheater. A swarm of young men and woman are aggressively dancing in the bars behind me to the beat of erotic music. Saturday nights here are loud and crowded. So it is quite unusual to see eight year old Piu jump down the empty flight of high stairs stretching before me.

I don’t know Piu at all. In her appearance she resembles my childhood friend with the same name. And hence I call her that too. For Piu the journey down is not yet comfortable. Every new jump she makes is just like her first one. Carefully thought and then acted out.

But, close to the amphitheater Piu stops. The further she goes the darker it gets. She turns back with an intent face, and she motions with her hand to call someone to her. I turn back and find a beautiful woman returning Piu’s gestures with her own. Piu’s mother is calling her Piu back. She has an approving smile on her face. As if it was equally hard for her to see her daughter run down into the dark amphitheater, all by herself. But Piu has proven herself. She has moved far enough. And it’s time for her to come back.

Like an obedient child Piu turns right back and starts her journey. Yet, at just one step up, she pauses. Eight year old Piu suddenly starts to think. She looks back to the amphitheater where she was originally headed. And she looks back to her mother. With a newly found zeal Piu gathers the courage to choose the unknown over the familiar. She rushes back towards the heart of her destination. She covers the last few stairs much faster than the ones before.

Once she is there, she touches the ground, like in tag, and without spending a further second, Piu starts returning back. And all the way up at the edge of the cavea, I inwardly clap, wondering what the source of such desires is. I feel as if I had watched a miracle.

I turn back and find that Piu’s mother has moved her eyes from Piu. A beautiful live song has caught her attention. So I silently step in and watch over Piu as she makes the rest of the way up. This time Piu has to use her hands too to climb up the high stairs. Once she safely makes it to the top I get back to my own thoughts.

Piu’s mother had probably missed the glorious moment that Piu had brought about. I imagine whether Piu would tell her about what went into her choice, and if she does, whether her mother would appreciate the enormity of the experience. I get an impulse to narrate Piu’s story to her mother, in the absolutely picturesque way in which I saw it. So I immediately jolt backwards to find them. I don’t see them anymore. They have probably left the place.