Short Story: Face to Face

Faruk Kader shares a tender tale that makes you re-look at life and everyone you have ever crossed paths with.

It was the day of our annual picnic. We have chosen Parramatta Park as the venue. Someone wisely suggested, “Bring umbrellas, it might rain today.” Taking an umbrella to the park wasn’t the problem—I thought -wandering around the park with one over our heads felt inconvenient. “How much rain could there really be? A little drizzle won’t hurt. As long as the food stays dry, we’ll be fine,” another friend said. Someone else chimed in, “There will surely be picnic shelters in the park. We’re bringing swimsuits anyway—we’ve planned to swim in the river. I’ve heard that the Parramatta River abounds in Brim fish in this season, and they travel upstream when it is raining.” The line cut off, but I understood—he was bringing a fishing rod.

The city itself is named after the river, Parramatta. The river runs through its heart. Before the city grew, what must the riverbanks have looked like? Perhaps Aboriginal huts stood there, hunters with spears and boomerangs rummaging through the thickets, just as in old paintings from 150–200 years ago. In one of those images, the river entered one corner of the frame, meandered sharply twice before making an exit from another.