Hebba

Back to the times when earth was only green and blue, there lived a boy, furious as the fire, sparkling as the star, swift as a deer but intelligent, well, only as a piece of rock.
Oh, he was as good as he could be in everything everyone would envy but for one thing but his brain that would never be by his side.
Hebba was his name and his best friend was Murra the rhino.
They would take a walk together in the evening. Hebba would sit on Murra's hefty back.While Murra would focus on chewing all the soft greens that came his way, Hebba would focus on shooting with his bow and arrow at whatever came his way.
Hebba's favorite ways of passing days was sharpening his arrows with a little rock, painting them with colors obtained from petals and climbing on a tree he called 'Mush Mush', then shooting arrows in that one direction always.
He wondered where all his arrows disappeared, not that he never tried to find them, but all in vain.
His bowstring was made of hareskin and it would recoil with all its mighty force.Maybe that's why his arrow would go so far to never be found.
Hebba would still think someone somewhere would be collecting all his colorful arrows or maybe someone would even come searching for him through his arrows.
Who knows?
Maybe.

Happy as they were but seasons changed, of rains and drought and then time came when Hebba started growing up with Murra and then came a dust of little knowledge as we would call it today in Hebba's little brain which failed to keep pace with Hebba's growth.
As days passed by, Hebba started growing uncomfortable staying alone, not that Murra wasn't there and Alas! did he start questioning  his own existence?
As a child, he remembered seeing his own kind.
Where had they gone?
Or had he fallen from that cliff only to fall on little Murra's back just to find himself separated from the rest of his kind.
Why had no one come to look for him? Or was it Murra who had called him?
Murra seemed to only enjoy the grasses, why would he never tell him much?
He only shaked his head in joy or sorrow or whatever he felt.
Murra had friends, more than one, of his own kind unlike Hebba and Hebba would envy this fact.
Hebba and Murra together would play with the rest of the lot all day long. Hebba seemed to have enjoyed this game all his life until this dust came into his brain bringing questions which never mattered until recently.

Hebba started feeling lonely even in a crash of rhinos.
So that one night , without telling Murra, Hebba continued to walk .

To where, oh he didn't know.

How far ?
He didn't know that either.
Tired and thirsty Hebba could walk no more and he collapsed as they would say .
Did he fall off the cliff again over some other Murra ?
Oh no! No no !
Hebba was there where no one would want to be!
Fire and arrows and some scary looking people all around Hebba who was now tied to a trunk.

They were so alike yet so different!
Where was murra?
Did he also not come to look for him?
A splurge of terror ran across Hebba's shivering lean naked body of now 14.
He gulped his fears and was thrilled to notice these fearful creatures of his own kind.
Have they found him back, have they tied him so he doesn't fall off that cliff over Murra who was just too lazy to come along and only busy eating grass!
Maybe .
And what was that?

Those colorful arrows in the hands of a tender, lean dark figure, hairs unkempt and much longer than hebba, those eyes glowing fiery red from the reflection of flames from across.. smiling in Hebba's direction. Oh why had that figure captivated Hebba's eyes that made him forget of his fears?
So this is why he ran that night ?
To be with his own kind? Was this the answer to all his questions? Was his dream and envy to be with his own kind now going to get fulfilled?  What we dream of is what we truly want ? Does running away in order to answer our ever questioning brain really worth? Had Hebba found the cure to his loneliness? Now surrounded by his own kinds, were they really his own? What awaits Hebba who ran away leaving Murra alone only to put the blame on Murra?

Has he got what he was searching for?Maybe.

Forgetting all the questions that his little brain could not handle, Hebba smiled back in her direction still gazing at his sharp colorful arrow awaiting whatever may come, surrendering himself to the unveiled mysteries of life and accepting destiny.

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The one we meet 

We meet a lot of people everyday. We forget some, we remember some. There are very few we want to keep forever though. Those very few strangers who make a huge impression, leave a powerful impact on your mind and soul. 

We all meet someone at a phase of life when we need it the most. The times when we are forgetting ourselves and then these stranger angels appear and give life a meaningful turn.

How skeptical we are to these new entries and only when we look ahead and beyond, observe deeper and down, do we overcome the initial skepticism. How I met the one who looked strange initially but after a while I realized it was me, standing right in front of my eyes, talking to me like I talk to myself, already achieving what I wished to, living a life I had dreamt of. It was me . I met myself and I absolutely loved it . I am profoundly in love with this image of myself. Meeting myself at a stage when I the image was fading off was the most exhilarating experience. 

I don’t know how to end this but I want me till the end .

The Short lived Love 

How I wonder could something so magnanimous

Be so small to be concised 

In the page of a diary so small

At a corner in the brain so vast.
How could it be confined

Within the limits of a pink pen stand

And the memory of a red soft toy

Within the heart of now a stranger

Within the faded memory a the brain.
I wonder how the most powerful feelings of all

Which starts like it has no start or no end

Like the beginning of a new universe

Like the creation of a new being

Like the rise of a new star.
I am in a state of denial

As I fail to understand

How this new universe limits itself

In a tiny world of shrewds

In a mean world of hatred.
I do not believe in it’s death

It’s way too huge to die

The energy is spread somewhere

In the universe where I breathe

Now transformed to another.
The soul has changed it’s clothes 

Now not in the pink little pen stand

It’s out there but for sure

It has not died although

As huge as this can never die.
The toys have changed their shapes

The laughs are a little different

Those eyes have changed their colors

The humongous feeling but lives

This love can never be short-lived .

The Weaver Weaves

We all make plans; long term, short term, we all do. We all dream big and small and base our plans on these dreams. How many dreams keep shattering somewhere every second of every day.

How we collect those shattered pieces, join them together and weave a new dream. 

Rephrasing and rebuilding lives every second of every day. Trying to get up, dust ourselves and moving on every day. 

Had there been no dreams, the cycle of efforts would have stopped. So live, dream and keep moving. This is life, an endless pursuit of weaving and catching dreams.

A Delayed Meeting

Peeping through the corner of my eye, I immediately recognized that figure in the dim lighting. It was a get together and all the dentists from my branch were there, both natives and international. I had been trying to avoid this all through my life but destiny plays it’s own games. A small girl was holding his little finger. She looked like him.

My gaze was suddenly interrupted by a pretty looking tall and fair woman as she asked me, ” do you know him?” In a gust I replied,” well not that I remember very clearly” and pretended to look at the waiter’s direction. “Oh, I’m Mrs Gustavo and that’s my little princess. Very nice to meet you” she said.

I felt this strong weightless sinking feeling, like I couldn’t breathe for a while. Recollecting my composure, I smiled back at her and excused myself as I was about to throw up. Unable to handle the anxiety and my disturbed emotional state, I sat in the corner of that huge lawn.

Nothing seemed beautiful anymore, I kept sitting there, in a trans, lost in my world of 21, exchanging promises, smiles and kisses. 

The river and the cliff 

It had been a long week running after money, meeting deadlines and pleasing people. It seemed like a year. Only a month back she had moved to a new city where money screamed out loud and an unprecedented, never-ending race with dead end was been run by almost everyone with two legs. She joined too,  leaving behind her  peaceful life with grandparents. The pursuit of money ought to bring happiness she thought, but was taken aback by the cost she had to pay. In a month she had lost weight, her peachy glow  replaced by a tan and her mind had everything but peace. Weekend was here, so she boarded the evening bus straight to where she belonged finding herself sitting next to a calm flowing river bounded by a cliff on one side. With her feet dipped in and contemplating life, she realized it all makes sense. The cliff reminded her that no matter how life binds you, break free and flow like a river and find happiness in the path you traverse. Rejuvenated, with her smile back, she went to see her grandparents, all set to go to work the following week and the days ahead.

ACCEPTANCE OF LIFE 


We are born, we live, we grow, we sit back and one fine day we all see the end to our ravishing journeys.

As with time, the art of acceptance is the one to master for human beings of reasonable age. By reasonable I mean all those who know what is happening around them, how life is treating them and how they respond to the treatment.

Accept all the good and the bad as it falls your way. Accept love when it comes, accept criticism, accept hatred, accept a companionship, accept the loss and gain, all in all, accept life. These are all part and parcel of a long journey and the more we accept changes and the environment around us, the more we grow through them.
There is no journey too smooth and yet no desert without an oasis. No night without a day and no sea without a shore. Accept all within. The days when you do well are yours and so are the ones when you fall. Accept the rise and fall. The moments of birth and demise, love and separation, joys and tears are all your moments. Embrace each one without any discrimination.

 An old man, looking through his life, sitting at the corner of his room, has retired. He worked hard all through his life, supported his family, raised two beautiful and  children. He desired a decent abode, a fine car and successful children. Today, he has everything he wished for, however his children are gone, his house is quiet with just his wife, his car lying in the garage as he has not many places to go. He looks back and then he looks here. What had he lost ? What was all that he was missing ? Didn’t he have everything today. Somehow what he couldn’t accept was life. He retired and suddenly all his social circle vanished, a fat salary turned into meagre income. We will all grow old. No matter how hard we work today, we all will retire someday and that would be the time to accept the little pleasures of life. Doing the small little things that we always wanted to do, learning new things that we never had time for. Every phase of life has its own purpose. Read in between the lines and figure out what is in store. Life is best when it’s mighty ways are accepted. Let the rain fall over your window pane and listen to the song it hums. Life definitely is one beautiful track.

SMILING BACK AT ME

You are back with a million dollar smile

The happiness in your eyes

The light shining through your soul

Making the days so bright

And the nights so peaceful

There you stand far away

Yet so near my newly formed world

Its all your aura I begin to see

Need no words to define this

Nor complicated words to write

Life is simple again with the simplicity you offer me

Here I am with a new day and a new me !