Caution: A very long story.
I wish it was not so. Wishes. Why is it that we fill our lives with wishes that can never come true? And then pepper it with regrets and suddenly find that the dish is not to our liking!
The old man replied with a smile, ” Ah I am not loaning you! I am giving you as a gift”
“Are you crazy?” Derek screamed at him.
” There is an old saying, don’t look inside the gifted horse’s mouth. Just drive home”
“You are crazy! I don’t want your car.. I don’t trust you”
“Well choice is yours.” Saying this the old man walks away and soon is hidden behind the curtain of rainfall.
Left alone, Derek examines the car for anything out of order. But everything was perfect and was totally new! After dithering for sometime he decided to use the car and left with it.
And the old man hidden behind the trees smiled softly.
Few months later,
Lisa was driving along a lonely stretch of road. It was high noon and she was tired. She was driving since last night. Running away from an abusive relationship, she was afraid and tired. And her car ran out of gas! She hyper ventilated!
She was in middle of nowhere. No farm no house in sight and the sun burned down her skin. Frustrated, she sat in her car smoking endless cigarettes , looking furtively here and there. Every once in a while some vehicle passed by, however never stopped. And then a kind old man came by and stopped his car. He gave her a lift to the nearest deli and they started to talk . She found herself telling him things about her past about her boyfriend. He lent her money to buy gas. And then he drove her back to her car. Towed the car to the nearest gas station and then when she started the car the car won’t work. And he offered her his car.
“Oh no! I can’t take it. You have already been too kind. Why would you do something like that ?”
“I can afford to. Don’t worry child. You need it.”
She was not easily convinced. After a a lot of arguments, he said,” I leave the car keys here” placing it on the the dashboard of her car. “The choice is yours honey” and leaves.
Once upon a time, there lived a small community of frogs. As it happens in those days they spoke beautifully. In soft tender tenor they would sing songs of the pond. The lotus would go to sleep listening to their songs. The flies mesmerized by them would stop mid air alas would be caught dead. The birds would keep quiet in envy. Move away high up on the trees to sing.. to not to interrupt. Few of the brave souls would try to challenge them but most either slinked away or joined them in their symphony keeping time.
Into such a world came one poor frog. He didn’t have a sweet voice. He croaked. And to balance this defect out, god had given him the skill of enterprising and the intelligence to use it. He marketed himself as unique artist. When he spoke people listened. Simply coz he was different. He was very much in demand.. and the whole of next generation imitated him blindly. Especially the Toad X.
Toad X was such an imitator that he surpassed his idol. He talked like him walked like him. And inculcated it onto others as the ‘cool’ thing!
Many generations passed as it happens and all the frogs forgot that they can sing. They all croaked now and thought, croaking is how they sound. Until one day Mr X jr was born. Interestingly, he was left alone by everyone coz he sung. And when he sung, the flies stopped mid air. All the members of the pond envied him and hated him.. coz he was so different. Which he wasn’t.. he was more true to what they really were than any body else. And that my friend was his crime
He was suppressed, tortured until he gave up singing until he died. And when he died, he was celebrated as the one and only singing frog who was brave enough to survive in this cruel pond…
And that is the story of every being in this world….
She tiptoed quietly out of the room. The early morning sounds were quite familiar to her.. the chirping of birds, the ticking of the clock.. and fuzzy sounds of the intermittent traffic on the road, made loud coz of the utter silence that surrounded her. She made a hot cup of coffee as she liked it. Strong, with little milk and no sugar and not like her husband who liked it with lot of sugar and lot of milk, one of the few luxuries that she awarded herself… And now she is going to indulge in the second luxury of the day.. Blogging…. This she indulged sparingly.
He didnt seem to understand why she wanted to write and that too online.. wanting others to read about their life. She could very well do it in a diary.. She cannot explain or justify it so she stealthily blogged when she knew he would be sleeping for a long time and cannot see.
Today she wrote….
I don’t understand why people claim that marriages have little or no romance. Or that to keep romance alive one has to have a lot money, time or inclination. For me, romance is about attitude. If one is romantically inclined even the mundane things can be made very very romantic. Figure this!
The other day I was teaching our kids the virtues of brushing teeth regularly. Also, I make it a point that I change their brushes every 2 months. And yet, when I found that Ritu was using her old toothbrush instead of new one, I gave her a special lecture about how important it is to change toothbrushes….
The next day I found a new toothbrush in our bathroom with a note stating..
You take care of every one of us but forget yourself. Why haven’t you changed your toothbrush?
At first I was irritated that he had pinpointed my mistake! And yet when he came from behind and hugged me and whispered, .. this is what I am here for.. to take care of you when you forget yourself…. I couldn’t help but be touched. Who knew something as trivial as toothbrush can be romantic? So people don’t think that romance is lost.. just find new ways to enjoy love !
Smilingly, she closed the laptop. It was time to start the day. And when she went to the bathroom, and saw the oft-used brush languishing on the stand. She smiled wryly and replaced it with a new one.
P.S: A silly romantic story after a long time…
P.P.S: The seed of this story started from one of your blog post Nancy.. hope you don’t mind me dedicating this story to you 🙂
P.P.P.S: Dedicated to Nancy 😛 😛
P.P.P.P.S: Please look at the last line carefully…. 😉
The accident in his old studio, where he had gone to nurse his broken heart nay, broken pride, had taken his talent away. and now without his music he was a nobody.
Music crept in stealthily in his dreams. As if it was afraid to be lost in the darkened cave. The chirping of birds, the music of a leaking tap sneaked in slowly… until music permeated his dreams. He could create music play then and listen to them all in silence. Silence finally resonated in thousand waves and each wave held tunes of wayward form.. complete in itself.. A song that would never be heard by anyone but him.. for it was his soul that sung… ‘The Silent Symphony’
Though Victor can never listen to music like before.. he knew he will enjoy it thousand folds. And in the little oasis , he finally found the perfect audience.. for now he played for himself ..
So what if he can never talk or walk out of this room.. In his mind he flew over thousand suns.
Binded in tubes, in his hospital room, incapacitated by coma, he was now, finally free….
P.S: I know this took a long time to post.. and it is not what I intended it to be.. but its finally done.. 🙂