Saturday 1 September 2012

'METAPHORS'



Note : Terms 'he', 'it', 'they' etc. are used as nouns wherever they are enclosed in inverted comas.

Broken and wretched ‘it’ fell on the earth. The pain was unbearable. A month from now, it has been soaring high up in the sky. People saw it with awe and amazement. The happiness, the applaud, the audience. It’s all gone. All remains is a memory. ‘It’ has always been ‘his’ favourite. Since childhood, ‘it’ was ‘his’ only companion. ‘They’ always told ‘him’ to part ways from ‘it’ but ‘he’ never listened to ‘them’ and till now ‘he’ thought he was right. But now, with ‘it’ lying on the earth, ‘he’ wondered, “Was he really?”
***

Memories from the past played ‘his’ mind. ‘Him’ and ‘it’,  right from the childhood have been the best of the friends.

“I don’t know who you are. I even don’t know what you are. Still I like you. I am happy when I am with you. I just want to let go the world and be with you forever.” He would say to ‘it’ more than often.

“I depend on you. It depends on you, how you mould me. How you shape me. I shall be what you want me to be. But just don’t take me as reality or one day that will be the reason for the tears in your eyes.” ‘It’ warned ‘him’.

***

Days, Weeks, Years passed. ‘He’ grew up. And as ‘he’ grew up, ‘it’ took a more precise and defined shape.

“Damn! I have to choose between ‘you’ and ‘them’.” ‘He’ said while preparing for the exams.

“Do as you wish. Choose whatever path you want to tread. But do choose the road of happiness.” ‘It’ said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Choose the road of happiness” ‘He’ said imitating ‘it’. ‘He’ was angry.
“As if I didn’t know that.” ‘He’ continued. “The problem is, I don’t know where the road to Happiness is.”

‘It’ smiled, hovering above ‘his’ head. ‘It’ knew the future.

***

A couple of years have passed. Through some ups and downs, ‘he’ and ‘it’ were still together. Thanks to ‘her’, that ‘it’ was still with ‘him’ and the bond was stronger than ever. ‘She’ has always been an inspiration for ‘him’ and that inspiration was the only think that kept ‘him’ and ‘it’ together. Eventually, ‘he’ and ‘it’ almost became one. ‘He’ was happy and ‘it’ was now more precise in its shape.

But then there were ‘them’ waiting for ‘it’ to fall down. ‘It’ has always known the fate. It’s always the same. Only a few can merge into reality. Only a few ‘It(s)’can merge with ‘them’ and make ‘him’ happy. This was not going to be that case.

‘They’ were all ready to attack the bond. ‘They’ arrived with long swords of “money”. They attacked with maces of “reasons”. They used the strategies of “prejudices” and “experiences”. ‘They’ were called “People of the World” and they lived in a place called “Society”. ‘He’, unfortunate enough to have been born amongst ‘them’, had to choose between ‘it’ or ‘them’. As a matter of fact, ‘he’ never cared for ‘them’. The problem was that ‘he’ has to choose between ‘it’ and ‘her’.

‘He’ was, as always, confused. ‘He’ didn’t care about the ‘Society’. Neither did ‘he’ care for ‘them’; ‘People of the World’ as they were known were what ‘him’ has despised the most for their dark hearts and bright faces. ‘He’ only cared for ‘her’ who helped ‘him’ to be with ‘it’. Inspired ‘him’ to always stick together with ‘it’.
But now ‘he’ has to choose between ‘her’ and ‘it’.

He remembered what ‘it’ always used to say:
“… just don’t take me as reality or one day that will be the reason for the tears in your eyes.”
‘He’ has made the decision.

***

An old man, worn out by the ever turning ‘wheel of time’, came beside him when ‘he’ was mourning ‘it’s’ death. A tear rolled down the eyes of ‘the old man’. As he patted on ‘his’ shoulder and walked away slowly muttering something. ‘He’ could only catch a few words. The words were enough to make him realise what actually ‘it’ was. The words of the old man echoed in ‘his’ ears as ‘he’ cried mournfully before the now dead ‘it’. The old man’s words now echoed in his ears:
“Reasons of the World’ took over man and in his search for reality, once again ‘it’ has perished.
Once again a ‘Dream’ has perished.”

© Shreyansh Chouradia

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