"..I promise...” she said and so many more, and so many
times. He remembered, not the every phrase but the every smile from it.
He believed it to be true.
Now what is true, and what was, were big questions, while he is watching the
stars and waiting for one to fall. So many wishes to make and certainly a life
to be lived. ‘Life is a journey...’ the monk said, - ‘Happiness is inside,
everything we see and search for can all be seen, if we start looking within...’
Preaching is easy, while practicing the same always goes the
opposite. As his life was never to look inside, but to keep seeing the unseen,
knowing the unknown and certainly the love to be loved, for ‘today-tomorrow and
forever’. The dreams were many, and the night was slow. It’s still dark
and the answers too. From where to be started, swiftly numerous question came.
The place was empty, few sleeping near the light. None to watch, nobody to speak,
a tea stall at a distance. The phases with the faith and hope, pierced deep inside.
The choked throat for sure asking him again- ‘where am I going...?’ Let this be
a journey where miles not to be walked, and sleep is nowhere near.
Perhaps she is travelling some distant hills, and he was still searching
the cure for the pain it feels. Promises for sure, faith was more, fooled in a
way that he still drawing the lines to connect the star.
It was a ‘love’ story, certainly yes, where time played the prime.
But that monk once said, - ‘Rich is one who can give with a smile, and pray for
a while…’ But whom to pray. The Lord is also asleep possibly.
The clock is still waiting for the first ray of light. The pause
can be easily observed, everything came to a sudden halt. Suffocation was there
for a long time now. And he is looking into the lines and the stones. Where to
go, with so many promises been made, and the time to live...
Someone pulled the trousers, he looked back, and a small boy may
be just three or four years of age asking for food. And certainly he had lost
everything then. He is seeing the face of the lad and remembering the monk. He is the poorest of all, with nothing to
give, no patience even to bow the head once more and ask the Divine. His home
is far, and journey unknown. He smiled at the boy, the pains are same, one is
to eat and the other to breathe.
A light approached from the distant, a train came, a step unfamiliar,
a ride never been dreamt. The promises were many, the emotions were perhaps delusion.
True is the pain. Lie were the roles. Still
looking towards the brighter stars, searching the path forth.
The halt was over. The rays yet came.
