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, [11th
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]
