Prologue:
This is neither a story nor a poem, but stands somewhere between them. In tamil literature, there's something called as 'sledai', which is in a poetic form. The beautiful aspect of that is, the poem has two meanings (direct and indirect). This work of mine is based on such a style. Each part will hold a unique theme, but still when you assimilate them together, they will form a universal theme. The themes are portrayed mainly in the form of comparison (with nature or fantasy world), with subtle layers embedded to it. I have tried to use simple words to weave this fabric.
The world was so dark with feeble noises creaking around him. It smelled so divine, with no one daring to seize his kingdom. There seemed to be some mystical force forming a bond between him and his secluded world. His survival depended heavily on the ever flowing rivers, that tasted like sugary syrup. His world wasn't designed, but it was visionary. Ironically his eyes were closed and failed to acknowledge the nuances of his surroundings. There was a sudden thrust of fear engulfing him, when he thought about the fading time. He shifted himself and realized something was happening around him. He knew he can't stay here longer, at any moment his world would crumble, leaving him no option. Soon the walls of his world caved in, started to squeeze as if, they were trying to muster all strength onto him. The loss of his world and the fear of a new beginning brought a shear pain in him. The pain brought the first tear in his eyes, followed by a cry of shrill sound. The sound wasn't a shrill, but echoed 'Amma !!' in Her eagerly waiting ears. 'Birth'
This is neither a story nor a poem, but stands somewhere between them. In tamil literature, there's something called as 'sledai', which is in a poetic form. The beautiful aspect of that is, the poem has two meanings (direct and indirect). This work of mine is based on such a style. Each part will hold a unique theme, but still when you assimilate them together, they will form a universal theme. The themes are portrayed mainly in the form of comparison (with nature or fantasy world), with subtle layers embedded to it. I have tried to use simple words to weave this fabric.
The world was so dark with feeble noises creaking around him. It smelled so divine, with no one daring to seize his kingdom. There seemed to be some mystical force forming a bond between him and his secluded world. His survival depended heavily on the ever flowing rivers, that tasted like sugary syrup. His world wasn't designed, but it was visionary. Ironically his eyes were closed and failed to acknowledge the nuances of his surroundings. There was a sudden thrust of fear engulfing him, when he thought about the fading time. He shifted himself and realized something was happening around him. He knew he can't stay here longer, at any moment his world would crumble, leaving him no option. Soon the walls of his world caved in, started to squeeze as if, they were trying to muster all strength onto him. The loss of his world and the fear of a new beginning brought a shear pain in him. The pain brought the first tear in his eyes, followed by a cry of shrill sound. The sound wasn't a shrill, but echoed 'Amma !!' in Her eagerly waiting ears. 'Birth'
The trail of the winter was left in the footpath by its fragile brown leaves. They crumbled at the sudden weight of his foot. He loved to watch them wither, which gave him a feel of self righteousness. His sanctimonious smile soon became volatile when he felt someone stalking him. He knew it was her and she had been threatening him for a while. She was dressed in a black robe moving around with elegance and a mischievous look. Sensing panic, he took rapid strides to negate her, but she sent flowers through wind as a sign of proposal. The cool breeze was in a whirl, hugging him and dotting him with her scent. Her scent brought hallucinations in him, luring into a honey trap before the brain sent him a voluntary signal to his legs. Strides were soon replaced by a jog and his mind raced for a vantage point. Despite his valiant efforts, she was winning and saw him buckling. Sensing the defeat, he finally gave a sigh for her to join him. She came down merrily to strip his sins and showcase heavenly pleasures in her kiss. When she made love with him leaving her trail of wetness, he stood soaked enjoying the first shower of rain in his life. 'Rain'
Was the wind trying to shove him aside or was he trying to negate its ghastly blow? With the gust of dust puffing up, his legs gained momentum to push himself towards the finish line. His eyes couldn't find the line, because his mind was in the realm of winning the race. The unending praise and fresh smell of money transformed into a cascade shading his vision and goal. Lost in the turbulence, his legs tripped and made a landing on the gravel. The sight of his fellow competitors marching towards him ached more than the bruises. Behind him, the competitors were bridging the gap between him and them. Greediness was like a mask covering his face but, there was a rush of pride, stopping him to wither his guise. He expected a mystical force to beckon him, but all he heard was his dad's voice in his mind, "Winning is more about how you raise after each fall". All his muscles now found a reason to ache more and take the ruthless pounding. The finish line slowly appeared in his vision. He rose against gravity and kicked forward towards his dream, leaving behind his competitors and failures.'Victory'
The blue ocean was sprawled across him, with the mighty sun losing its fieriness after a long day. He was gazing at the numerous sea gulls, while his mind wandered about the coveted gift. A gift, which no one really dared to dream of, or had the cognizance to think. He was like a king, with ever flowing money and abundant health to masquerade all his grief. The world felt small for him, with very less to seize. He wondered, what could be his greatest possession? Could be the vast empire which he reigned or the sizzling sea breeze that welcomed him every evening? With gazillion thoughts fighting for a spot in his mind, he saw a beautiful woman, more like an angel moving towards him. When she came close, he found that she was white and formless, like a vapor. With a heavenly smile, she transformed herself into a million butterflies.The butterflies flew towards him, occupying one half of his body. He saw his own reflection on the water and felt like a butterfly man. With the dream still lingering on, he woke up, he knew his greatest possession, it was not the butterflies. He saw his wife lying next to him and smiling. 'Better half'
The lady was searching for the right words to narrate a story to her son. A story which could depict victories; appreciate the fear of failure. A narration to enunciate glory and masquerade gore in life. The narration began in a blissful and boisterous tone. It was so enthralling, that the small kid visualized himself to be a part of the story. He laughed, at the characters' naive behavior; he was awestruck, by their achievements and shed tears when they were battered for free will. The story witnessed the evil side; portrayed goodness; instilled belief and hope. Every time she said this story, she felt like the light before dawn. She was able to inculcate the same in her son. Despite, hearing the same story umpteen number of times, he fell in love with the story. It was like the blue sky, every time you see it, there's something unique in it. Finally, a new thought sprang in the kid's mind, "One day, I'll be a hero like him and do wonders". A smile spread in her face, it was basked in pride and joy. She knew she has chosen the right words and the apt story for him. "You will! It's no wonder; you are the son of a hero"- 'Hero'
Was the wind trying to shove him aside or was he trying to negate its ghastly blow? With the gust of dust puffing up, his legs gained momentum to push himself towards the finish line. His eyes couldn't find the line, because his mind was in the realm of winning the race. The unending praise and fresh smell of money transformed into a cascade shading his vision and goal. Lost in the turbulence, his legs tripped and made a landing on the gravel. The sight of his fellow competitors marching towards him ached more than the bruises. Behind him, the competitors were bridging the gap between him and them. Greediness was like a mask covering his face but, there was a rush of pride, stopping him to wither his guise. He expected a mystical force to beckon him, but all he heard was his dad's voice in his mind, "Winning is more about how you raise after each fall". All his muscles now found a reason to ache more and take the ruthless pounding. The finish line slowly appeared in his vision. He rose against gravity and kicked forward towards his dream, leaving behind his competitors and failures.'Victory'
The blue ocean was sprawled across him, with the mighty sun losing its fieriness after a long day. He was gazing at the numerous sea gulls, while his mind wandered about the coveted gift. A gift, which no one really dared to dream of, or had the cognizance to think. He was like a king, with ever flowing money and abundant health to masquerade all his grief. The world felt small for him, with very less to seize. He wondered, what could be his greatest possession? Could be the vast empire which he reigned or the sizzling sea breeze that welcomed him every evening? With gazillion thoughts fighting for a spot in his mind, he saw a beautiful woman, more like an angel moving towards him. When she came close, he found that she was white and formless, like a vapor. With a heavenly smile, she transformed herself into a million butterflies.The butterflies flew towards him, occupying one half of his body. He saw his own reflection on the water and felt like a butterfly man. With the dream still lingering on, he woke up, he knew his greatest possession, it was not the butterflies. He saw his wife lying next to him and smiling. 'Better half'
The lady was searching for the right words to narrate a story to her son. A story which could depict victories; appreciate the fear of failure. A narration to enunciate glory and masquerade gore in life. The narration began in a blissful and boisterous tone. It was so enthralling, that the small kid visualized himself to be a part of the story. He laughed, at the characters' naive behavior; he was awestruck, by their achievements and shed tears when they were battered for free will. The story witnessed the evil side; portrayed goodness; instilled belief and hope. Every time she said this story, she felt like the light before dawn. She was able to inculcate the same in her son. Despite, hearing the same story umpteen number of times, he fell in love with the story. It was like the blue sky, every time you see it, there's something unique in it. Finally, a new thought sprang in the kid's mind, "One day, I'll be a hero like him and do wonders". A smile spread in her face, it was basked in pride and joy. She knew she has chosen the right words and the apt story for him. "You will! It's no wonder; you are the son of a hero"- 'Hero'
No comments:
Post a Comment