Food For Thought
She lay listening as a tune echoes in the recesses of her mind. No one but herself was privy to the music of her memories; forever trapped in the dwindling lanes forged in a fractured soul. Why, you ask, could she not release herself from the notes she so desperately clung to? Why don’t you ask her yourself?
There she lies immobile on her bed; the only sign of life her weakly beating heart. She is a strong one, you see; an exuberant child, full of wonder and yearning for the life we all curse! Ask her if she wants to live. Ask her if she would live just for one more day. One more day? What would just one day accomplish? She will smile at you, her most dazzling smile. “Why, one day is enough to enjoy the beauty of life one last time!” will be her reply. “A day is enough to say how much you love and appreciate the people close to you.
It is enough to travel to the lanes you cherish, the places close to your heart. A day mean one last kindness bestowed on a stranger, and a praise that might bring someone back from the edge of a cliff….”
“Impossible!” you might say, “Why would I bother with such things? They never did anyone any good!”
She will then hold your hand and pity you: “Why did you become so hateful? Why can you not see the good in this world?”
At that time you will open your heart to her, baring your soul: “There is no good in this world dear child, only greed and sin. Everyone running to fulfill their needs, desires and obligations; what good is it that you ask about?” She will then wipe away the tears running unnoticed down your face. She will kiss your cheek and warm your cold heart: “Please don’t forget about hope and faith. You have to hope for a good world and have faith that the hard times are but momentary! Live life to the fullest and find happiness…”
This sweet little child still lies in her bed. She lies trapped eternally in all our hearts. Who is she? Do we know her? Why, of course! For she is us; she is our lost innocence, crying deep in our conscience. She is the hope and faith we all sense in times of need. She is the quiet saviour and she still slumbers, listening to a melody only she can hear…
This is dedicated to Shri H.K. Kaul, without whom I would never have discovered how wonderful words can be…
Little Girl
By E. kaul