It's a hot summer day, a child with a heavy bag, filled with books and notebooks is returning home after a long arduous school day. He is talking to himself about what he should have said to his teacher in response to her queries about the fight he had with his class-fellow, what will he do when he gets home, what excuse will he make for his broken pencil. A person appears from behind him and the child thinks about him to have heard all what he was saying that makes him feel guilty.
A child sitting in a classroom with his friends and foes all around. The books and the writing materials scattered all around, the sounds of the large wooden stick ticking on the teacher's desk after regular intervals followed by loud authoritative voice coming from behind the "huge" spectacles. The early morning calls for waking up and doing the breakfast, preparing for the school. The homework, ink spread all around, the pens, pencils, rulers.....complete mess. I can recall all those things so accurately that if it were yesterday when they happened.
Sixteen years have passed and i am still standing on the same place from where i started my journey. Goal-less, without having any directions, no idea of what i have or will be doing next. The same mechanical movement, under the pressure of time and circumstances which i have long withstood. I still wonder if miracles do happen, if the stories of the people who started with meager amount of capital or resources and became billionaires in the coming few years to be correct to their essence, if the saying, "time changes it all" befits all that inhabit the planet earth, if the famous "Aladdin Lamp" still exists or not, if the every person's life has a unique cycle of events which one can't escape, if it's possible for a man to transcend the physical space of being. All these things comes into my mind at once and then vanish at all. A single whistle of joy erases all the miseries, pain and the sufferings of my body and the spirit. A lonely blinking star lights up the heavens of my life. A little spark calms my freezing mind and the shivering soul. Is this what, that happens to all of us, or is just a special case, i am thinking.
I can write, on and on, paragraphs, pages, books. Of what use are my words, kills the story teller.
Taher Shah (angel) appears and says, "It is Life."
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