Once possessed common things becoming treasured valuables

The sun had risen from its cozy bed to offer the little heart another day that promised happiness and joy. The wind blew slightly swaying the curtains, to offer a gentle touch to the drowsy yet gleaming face, that served as a wake up call. The sparrows in their best way had greeted, when the soul moved its feet towards the window. A step out of the house which landed him under the gulmohar tree had seen a shower of flowers falling on him that served as a care taking hand, congratulating in advance, for the laurels he was going to receive that day. A crown assembled from leaves supported from twigs had been put on, hailing him the prince.

It was the day after a sunset. The sun had not risen, clouds shielding those radiations of friendship and love. The wind was silent. The sparrows had moved away. Neither were there flowers nor was there a crown of leaves. But he was to wake up to continue his survival, with thoughts of those sweetest moments invading the most delicate heart every moment, only to break him down to tears.

Days and months passed but every day was the same with the once possessed common things becoming treasured valuables, but he was not to lose hope. With a heart from within, helping him endure it that did say every moment, ‘Everything is going to be fine.’ Those words did present a truthful falsification of the never to happen again things.

But one day even as he woke up the sun rays did offer him pure pleasure with the wind waking him up, sparrows greeting him and lastly the gulmohar and the leaves enjoying his success.

But something unnoticed but still noticed in the highly illuminated of the darkest chambers, as a manuscript read, was that:

‘The sun had risen because it was thirsty for need of water, the wind had blown for it could not have stayed in the same place for ages together, the sparrows did sing with a fear that it may forget its basic art, the flowers and leaves that have fallen were dried ones for it was autumn and new ones ought to be given life to in spring.’

In this long list of truth behind the false curtain, the heart did experience joy for it was receiving love, if not truthful at least falsified with a hope that one day this falsification would be a truthful visual to experience.

Another story,

Every day was a joy with mouth watering delicacies in front of the eyes against a background of traditional Indian art, with music touching the heart, so silent lest it dominate the smiles and above all the presence of a friend never to say no to talks that lasted for hours together, smiles arising from the depths of the heart and presence everlasting.

However a day came when everything was to be taken down in the books of history. The aroma of the dishes, the serene background, the music that had once spread to every ear and above all the presence of a someone so dear and loving, everything had bid a long good bye only to return after a fortnight when something unnoticed but concealed had put its eyes onto the floor.

Someone came, or rather this one having visited that place, when a voice did utter, ‘Let us savor the meal together’ and it was done but silence was the only thing witnessed but still hope unrest in the heart did spread its hands.

It was a blissful day, yet a day when truth was concealed, which was too shameful too show its face, but still, someone did read – ‘It was a gesture in return for your help this one day.’ In continuation was the harshest line- ‘Never expect every day to be the same.’

But still the everlasting love towards friendship did keep up the spirit which thought, ‘If the gesture was a result of help, then every day would be started with a small help, following a meal, though highly conditional, would one day be experienced in the real sense.’

The time had come to say the last few words. ‘If once possessed common things become treasured valuables’, then enjoy it when it knocks at the door. Bid a farewell wishing that it knocks again. If it happens, laugh aloud otherwise smile cherishing those days filled with pleasure when the treasured experiences have been experienced. Hope has its essence spread d to every heart. Memories can be cherished every time. The strongest creation out of iron too does not possess the strength to confine your thoughts. Hope coupled with memories can give you the support, if not the love to live. Wait until death when falsification realizes the hidden truth only to wait for another life when happenings are to take place again for proper execution of actions.