Wednesday, August 10, 2016

14In a garden forgotten by time, by a crooked corner where a little rusty fountain stood looking at a gate from where no one came anymore, a flower burst from its pod on a little patch of green. The broken boundary wall ensured that this patch received the needed sunlight and a trickling faucet and an old, leaking rubber hose sustained its watersupply.

The stem of the flower rose a little each day till it grew tall enough to look over the boulders and the broken wall onto the vast emptiness of horizon. To one end, there was a barren road and to the other the vastness of sea stretched out its arms.

Now, one would imagine a flower to whither with time and die after a few days but this was a special flower. It had struggled its way out into the world in an otherwise dead sorrounding and it wasn’t willing to give up on life that easy. It stood tall looking at the sea for days and weeks and months. It spent the first few days soaking in the beauty of the sea and the music of the waves breaking at the shore. Often, when an odd ship passed by, the flower would perk up a little and make an effort to see in the direction the ship sailed. It hoped that the ship would drop an anchor and someone from the ship would come down to the shore and look at the empty piece of land and settle there.

The lone flower stood there for what seemed like eternity, like a soldier holding onto an impossible position. But then, as time passed by, the flower got bored of its mundane life and began to wonder and question the purpose of its existence. The flower had a rich, earthy scent and it might have delighted an old maid passing by and could have prompted the man by her side to pick it up and shove it in her greasy hair but this was a stretch of land that no one ever visited and so the flower waited endlessly thinking about why it was born in that particular corner where no one could see and admire it.

The air, water and sunshine were readily available and the weather by the sea was moderate and favorable and posed no threat to the flower’s life but now mere survival was not good enough for its yearning spirit. It looked at the blue void and brooded over the dismal vacuum hoping against hopes that it will find an answer to the only question it had. What was the primary function of the little life it had?

Every day a sunrise would bring it a new day but the novelty of the day would only be confined to the changing hues in the sky. For the flower, a day remained just another link in the chain of its seemingly unending life. It kept staring into the space oblivious to the sky and the birds and the little snails and other bugs which often ventured about its roots. Its daily battles were its own, its story untold.

Now one would imagine this plot to come up with a twist, maybe there comes a visitor, maybe a bird or even a modest butterfly. It would make for a way to take this story forward and even give it a conclusion. But perhaps this is what makes this story different. There is no conclusion. We all, or perhaps most of us, have conquered our daily wage battles and learnt the art of sustaining ourselves in a job that pays out enough to pay our bills and ensure the availability of the primary needs without actually knowing why were we sent on this planet in the first place and where lies the purpose of this life.

Indulging ourselves in a vacation or a break away from the monotony is a mere distraction. It just dilutes our quest and takes one away from the question. The primary purpose of human life perhaps lies elsewhere. I am not even suggesting an answer here or offering some remedy in form of social work and service to humanity. Your answer is for you to find.

I just need you to know that what troubles you at this moment is just a phase that will fade away with time. The gravity and severity of all tragedies in life is only a spot in the overall timeline. The life continues beyond your sorrow and mine, past your joys and my happiness. It doesn’t dwell in a failed deal or lost love and certainly not in any cult or religion. The peace within rests inside your head and your alignment with all forms of life in totality perhaps.

Raise your head and look at the night sky in the region where the moonshine doesn’t blanket the cover of stars. The sublime beauty of the night mesmerizes and threatens people alike. Reach out and fill a scoop from this boundless space. Dish out your answers, battle your fears and throw out the skeletons in your closet to this space.

Free yourself…

The lone flower is bound and held by its stem. It must shed its petals one at a time and learn to grow them all over again and evolve to be more opulent, more fragrant than ever. It must continue to do it till it learns to travel with the wind and let its seed reach out to a new patch and be born all over again…


2 comments :

Anonymous said...

After a long wait... it's an inspiring post... but I feel finding answers to unknown questions is the most difficult part and the fact remains that there are lots of such unanswered, vague questions... reaching a new patch is a dream... let's see if it ever comes true!!!

Aarti said...

Very well written. One could easily relate to the questions that came across in the story. You are so good with words .

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