The tinkling of the temple bells
reverberated around. Waking up sleepy eyes. Dragging lazy souls.
Compelling stubborn ones to get ready. For school. For colleges. For
offices. For hospitals.
For life. And for livelihood.
That's how the
day began. Almost every time. Showing minimal chances of changing.
But this is life . It can change. Any moment. Any instant. Without
giving the slightest hint.
And that's what happened . On a Monday
morning. After a steamy cup of green tea.
The clouds slowly drifted apart. Giving
space for morning rays to fill in. The dark brown curtains gently
brushed aside with the crimson colored book rack. Books new and old
peeped in for a loving glimpse of their admirer, their friend, their
beloved. Who finds peace inside their pages and life along with them.
At a distance. Bit far. Smoke rose up.
Building circles in the air. And also curiosity. There sat someone
basking in the morning sun. Trying to ward off chilly winds. His eyes
fell on him. An old man. Homeless. A regular in the locality. His
vision traveled a bit far. Towards a roof. With half built steps. A
broken doorway. Languishing alone. Just like him. He thought. Making
a creaky sound with every undesired move.
The vision traveled still afar.
Crossing the coconut tress. Crossing their curvy bodies. Ignoring the
play of sunshine between their leaves. Just giving it a thoughtful
moment like a soft caressing.
It traveled further ahead. To a land
unknown. Or known. A land concealed. Or revealed. A land that existed
or may be not. A land where stood a beautiful house. With walls
painted. Like the colors of a rainbow. Purple. Red. Yellow. Green.
With stripes of white adoring it. At the edges and near the window
sills. With a small balcony on the first floor. Not too small indeed.
Enough for spending sometime. Alone. Without a company, neither to
question nor seek answers. A corner. Peaceful one. Bejeweled with
flowers. Same like the walls. Purple. Red . Yellow. And leaves,
Green. Hanging freely on the pots. That seemed to enjoy the company
of the breeze. Swinging in and out, along with it. Carefree.
Unworried. Jealousy engulfed his mind. Questioning. Why is he trapped
inside the never ending world of success and failure. Seizing his
every moment. Clutching him. Unlike the flowers.
“A gift awaits you” someone spoke.
“Where” he asked
“Within”.
And he sat down. On the bamboo chair.
Relaxing himself a bit. Feeling the air around. Feeling the sunshine.
Blank sheets of paper chuckled on the table. And the silver colored
pen rolled nearby. To feel his finger tips.
“Abhi” a voice floated from the other room. “I think you are getting late”.
“Not today” he mumbled “at least”
with a curvy smile that drifted his lips slightly apart, creating a
dimple below the lower one.
And the tinkling of the bell
reverberated around. May be from a land that exists.
Pic : Google Images
“Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine, and at last, you create what you will” – George Bernard Shaw
