The most interesting stories are
found at the most uninteresting places. I have experienced some stirring
stories at places, anybody would least expect for. Obviously, the stories I
call interesting is rather a taste of personal choice, a choice of terms that
defines the word “interesting”. For most people, however, these stories can
just be another thing, but I find a great recipe of inspiration and motivation;
if not anything else, at least I come to know of a different aspect that
coexists with us and is, to a certain extent, veiled from us.
Every time I try not to think
anything serious, I discover myself thinking “actual” serious stuff. Well, the
stuff I refer as serious is sometimes termed as philosophical by some. I do not
know what that is exactly but if small pretty things are thought of as
philosophy, yes, I would call myself a philosopher. But, as I understand,
philosophers are people who just think. I mean their only job is to think. On
the contrary, thinking is not my job; nor do I have the leisure to do so. But,
I would not deny the fact that I do think sometimes, not because I want to, but
it just comes. Such thinking landed me on two such stories that I least thought
of. Here go the stories in a nutshell.
Story 1
In one of the busy roads that I
know of, there stands a little temple of a goddess. It’s a pretty small temple.
I have, till date, never seen anybody opening the doors of that temple and
offering prayers, but, every day the temple receives fresh flowers. The
goddess is festooned with fresh flowers as well. Just outside the small temple,
sits an old lady who sells flowers. I doubt if anybody would have noticed her there
and if anybody would have given some attention in that direction, it could have
been because of the beautiful flowers she sells. Be it any weather, any
part of the day, she would sit there unperturbed by everything but just her
flowers. I daresay she perhaps has never bothered to see what happens on the
busy junctions and roads around the place she has stationed herself. She just keeps her
eyes on the flowers, for that is the only reason, perhaps, she sits there. It
was almost a routine for me to see her near that temple. It was just like a
part of a chore for me. I perhaps could never have imagined that place sans her
presence. But, a day came when I had to.
When I couldn’t see her
that day, I thought maybe she’s camouflaged herself with the temple. After some
moments of intense gazing, I made myself believe that she is actually not
there today. I wondered what could have happened but in the due course of the day,
the thought faded away. She wasn't there the next day either, and the next day
too and some more days following them. Every day, I just hoped she would show
up again but she did not. Every time I passed that part of the temple, I missed
her presence. The first week of her absence made me apprehensive but as the
days of her absence rolled to over a week, the apprehensions changed to
concerns and slowly into worries. Yes, I was worried about her, but she wasn't even an acquaintance for me, still there was a kind of connection that made me
bother of her absence.
After some 14-15 days, she
suddenly appeared in that place outside the temple. I saw her again. Her presence after so many days had almost
the same effect as her sudden disappearance had on me; I couldn't easily
believe she was there. I was happy, well, not exactly happy; I was more of
relieved and was at ease. I wanted to ask her if she was alright but, was that
sort of question expected from a stranger to another. Of all the things, she
was a stranger to me and so was I to her. I decided not to go there and went on
for my day’s work. But for some part of the day, I kept wondering what could
have happened. Why was she not there for almost a fortnight and if everything
is at place?
That day, when returning from work, I went near her. I had never thought of
it but as a reflex sort of action, I went and asked her the cost of a flower
she had. She looked up, smiled and quoted the price. Her smile was a gesture of greeting a customer who has come to buy the flowers she sold, but her
smile was actually more than that. It conveyed a sense of happiness, a sense of
elation with glimpses and hints of some unspoken things that stayed hidden in
her eyes. I do not know, nor did I try, to decrypt the emotion that was
beneath that smile. I, at that moment, did not know what to tell. I just got
the flower, thanked her, said that I was happy she is back and walked away. I never
prefer buying flowers because I believe they look beautiful and the best when
not plucked; being plucked out for selling purpose, for making some other
objects beautiful with the decorations they provide means nothing more than the
very fact that they were dying a slow, painful and untimely death for mere
pleasure of others. I, therefore, never appreciate buying flowers, but that day
I went out of my own way just to have a word with her, as if just by listening
her speak would make me believe that she is fine. Well, that did. I was feeling
quite good and returned. After that day, she sometimes smiles at me and I smile
back and some days I smile at her and she too reciprocates. This is of course
not an everyday matter; it’s only on some few days that we smile at each other.
This story has some different
aspects also. If intended, it could easily have been a ten paged story. But for
now, that will be it.
Story 2
The second story is as much
similar as the first story and is also as much dissimilar. What actually
differs is the perception. The second story will be a part of the second
installment of this piece of article, which I expect to post soon.
To be continued…..
Copyright © One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved.
It was the days of the gleaming sun. For some, dry and dusty. But the days were the days of warmth and charm. They had the melody of the soul and the rhythm of life. It defined the moments with quintessence of charisma; charisma of blossoming flowers and of blooming relationships.
