INSPIRATION  [The Ink of My Pen]…….

There was an orphan in dreamland of love and happiness. He saw a person, to whom, he loved so much that he wanted to live his whole life with that person. However, that admired person was travelling so fast that that orphan couldn’t catch that travelling person.

Days passed. He used to see that person daily, but couldn’t dare to sprint to catch that person.

Tired, broken, crying, and lonely, he was given shelter by a kind-hearted woman. He used to pass his post-failed moments in that shelter. But he had one bad habit. He was too noisy and babbler. He used to annoy that kind hearted lady. Lady tolerated his everything.

That lady requested him to look upon the life and to understand importance of life. He, being in his hyper thoughts, always neglected her advices.

One day, as per destiny, that lady left that place and got settled elsewhere.

He started thinking her kindness. Whomsoever tried to peep in the fathom of his wrenched heart, imprints of the lady with her kindness were seen, fading for rest of the world, but freezing in his wrecked deserted heart. He lost all his babblings. Several others visited him to gift him colors of life. All were bright enough to let him forget his failures, but at the same time dull enough to keep his heart carrying the darkness of realization of losing that kind lady due to his babblings.

PK had carried cassettes to his planet. This guy had a bunch of babblings disguised in shape of words and letters. He read those all innumerous times like his sleeping pills.

At one lazy noon, while stitching his lacerated dreams, he saw that kind lady. She asked him how is he. The storm of thoughts, feelings and words broke the heavy walls of silence. Before he could be blown away in that storm, his heart whispered, “Will you be a babbler again and causing her to go forever, or will you be a dumb to stretch her presence to be blessed with her kindness??” With few drops of shed water droplets, he closed his eyes. He was blissful and blessed. He wanted to say tons of words, all were at fingers to write. He closed the eyes not to look down to write, tied fingers. The shed tears pacified the storm of words. Any diffusion could turn it into a story from reality.

He realized life can be sought in prayers, but few things can never be earned for ages, if lost once. You can live without realizing difference, but there are few things which make all the differences.

He said to his Inspiration, [11^th name of that kind hearted lady], “I don't’ know how am I. It’s difficult to tell.”

[Contd…]

The DEMON

[INSPIRATION - The Ink Of My Pen]