Skip to main content

Do we find stories or do stories find us?

One thing that has always intrigued me is the world of stories, this very moment as I am typing these words , I am already getting framed into a story. Isn't it strange, the way we find stories everywhere we go or rather to put it in other way, stories find us no matter where we go. What makes the world of stories intriguing are the never ending possibilities of a make believe world, parallel lives merge and diverge to meet yet other lives. The best part being, we can always give stories an ending no matter sad or happy but we get to write our own story and that is what matters, isn't it?

So the story which found me, while I was least expecting to come across it is about someone who only knew to spread happiness but that's where she wen't wrong. So, she was a butterfly, her wings flimsy. She got attracted by the flashy colours that carried sweet fragnances. She couldn't smell the deep dark odour which lay underneath those flashy smiles. She knew to love life and that was what mattered.
 
Came a strong breeze from the North, it had that robust tinge which could harm her flimsy wings, but could she ever think of anything else apart from him. She let her wings tear apart, she was willing to give away her flight for she wanted to sail with the breeze. While the breeze kept on soothing her heart, she completely forgot to make use of her wings. Life was rolling fine until that gentle breeze turned into a storm. Now, what were she to do? She had long forgotten her wings. All of a sudden things started making sense, how could she ever match her flimsy wings with that of this northern breeze who hadn't for once thought of her before turning into a storm?

She went back to mend her wings which no longer held life but she was learning to be patient. She started her flight again, she stumbled and even broke her wings but she knew that she were to keep trying. With each passing day, she got better but whenever a breeze blew past her, she felt it's chill settling in her heart but she knew that she were to be her own little sunshine to brighten her world.

Her wings have started taking flight and as I see her fly past, I can't but hope that her wings don't get shattered again.

And I know this story would find her at a better pace years from now and as I said it would find it's way to tell me about her. It's not yet time to think of an ending to her story.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"My love is enough for both of us"

"My love is enough for both of us", she often felt those words ring in her heart. She finally had understood that life wouldn't always follow her designs. That people are meant to leave but their memories won't. She often had wondered how someone could love her to such an extent when that person had always known that she wouldn't reciprocate those feelings. How could a person stand by her when she always acted as a fleeting shadow. She never had given hope for she knew the pain of dejection but he kept hoping like a hopeless vagabond. How she wished that he would some day hate her enough to let go. She devised ways to free him from this web, she acted cold, turned indifferent, did everything he detested and she finally saw some changes. It was a relief, he finally seemed to take hold of his life. She could see him grow responsible. He finally it seemed was learning to love himself. Phone calls died, meetings subsided, they become known strangers. All this while ...
2 comments
Read more

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more  can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing...
2 comments
Read more

The dead old tree

As I walked on the road unaware of where the world was headed towards, something caught my attention. It was a dead tree standing erect by the road. What interested me was the way it had been dying a slow death whereas the world around him was yet so green. My eyes lingered towards it's branches, there I saw leaves caught in transition, they were neither green to contain life nor brown to talk of despair. The colour was a shade of yellow with specks of dull green . Did the green in them yet had hope to continue being alive? I asked myself. Then I saw something which moved my heart for the tree, it was home to birds. Little chirpy birds seeked shelter in its dead trunk. How strange life could be, that tree housed life yet couldn't forsee it's end. A cool morning breeze made its dry branch rattle and one of its branches snapped. I could see a man hurry past the road. Before I could actually take hold of what was happening, I saw him drag that branch along with him and my mi...
1 comment
Read more