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Pirate and the Treasure

It was a typical sunday morning. Sluggish, slow and comforting. I got out of my bed and went to the beach to have my brunch and read my favourite book. “Turn your magic on to me she would say...” the music player played on Adventure of Lifetime as I was leafing through the pages. Reading the book under the shed of the palm tree I felt asleep only to be woken up by a strange looking man. “Nice pirate outfit.” I thought as the man kept coming closer towards me. The person, draped in pirate clothes yelled, “I have a treasure map and I need your help. Are you in?”

I was surprised by the pirate’s quest and wanted to see where the map leads him. I studied the map carefully and saw that the map lead to a small island a few miles away from Cape town. We were set  head north towards the Robben Island. It is a UNESCO world heritage site and is place of great historic importance as Nelson Mandela was once imprisoned over here before the fall of Apartheid. Sun was blazing all guns as we got on the boat and started on our sojourn across the ocean. “Have a look at this map.” Christopher said handing me over another map. It was the map of Robben Island spread across twelve kilometers. “The legend has it that Portuguese Rulers detained their most notorious thieves on the Robben Island.” Christopher said. The map showed that the treasure was inside the Prison building where Madiba was once jailed for his beliefs. I took out my mobile and followed the path displayed on the Google maps.

It was old but now it was converted into a musuem. We entered the musuem as visitors, Christopher had changed his attire and was looking like a tourist now. We had to reach the basement of the building and find cell number 6. But it was easier said than done. We sneaked behind the doors and went downstairs. It was terribly dark. I switched on the flash light cutting through the darkness. We could see the prison cells. These cells once housed political prisoners. We entered the cell 6. “Hey there is nothing over here.” I said bit frustrated for finding nothing. “Wait my friend, switch off your flashlight.” Christopher said. He took out the neon stick and lit it up. The prison walls got illuminated, engraved on them were certain words written in Portuguese. “I have found my treasure.” He said. “What is it?” I said excited to know. “Let’s get out of here first.21” He said.

“My ancestors where notorious pirates from Portugal. My great great grandfather, John William II was a power center in the sea and every one feared his wrath. This tradition was followed for years and I am the last surviving pirate of my lineage. But the truth is I am not inclined towards piracy and want to create authentic paintings.” Christopher said. “That’s great but what about those scribbled lines on the wall and the treasure.” I asked confused. “Yes I am coming to that. “It said that true freedom in life is to follow one’ calling.” My grandfather had wrote it when he was serving a term here and father had asked me to visit his cell before hanging my boots as a pirate.” He said beaming with a smile. “And that’s the true treasure a man can have.” He said. We got back to Cape Town and parted our ways as the sun set behind the blue ocean. I wished him good luck for the life full of creativity. He waved me good bye as his cab drove into the busy roads of Cape Town.

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