• tejaswini_3 27w


    I used to believe that I am still a youngster as my family had directed my mind to think and act like one and it was epiphany for sure as I came to know after a lot of deliberation that I was far more observant than any of the elders known to me. These elders mantled my credulous behaviour with cloaks of malicious tales, their motive was to let me get exposed to only the mirthful side of the world. They were least knowing that I was a wildflower who was meant to not adorn a flower vase but endure the heavy torrents of rain.

    ~�������� ���� �� ��������, ������ �������� ���� �������� ���� ���������� �������� ���������� ���������������� �������������� �������������� ������������ ���������������� ������. ������������ ������ ������, �������� �������� �������� �������� ��������. �������� ���������� ������ ����������������, ������ ������ ������ �������� ���� �������� �������� ���������������� ���� �������� ������~

    My grandmother had advised me one evening, while she was delineating a poem from a newspaper. It had a mysterious and an abrupt ending. I was just seven at that time, and it's the age when you have absolutely no visualization of the outer world. I was ambiguous about the poet's comprehension when he penned down verses saying that the birch tree had to live alone when the summer bid a farewell. Inspite of knowing what fate autumn would bring, I could not absorb the poet's conceptualization for I felt that the tree would soon get coated with new green leaves next year.

    Time had a lot in store for me. It passed so quickly, and I had seen the world from all angles. There were both buoyant and melancholic things to ponder upon and that's how it all was balanced perfectly. I was like the warrior princesses in a folklore; who had the liberty to follow their will. I was no longer a kid who would be inane to count the stars, but I was a stargazer who would be grateful to the sky for infusing magnanimity in her. My kindness led me to encounter people and the more I came in contact with them, the lesser I started to trust them.

    ~I blame no one. Perhaps it was only me who gave my warmth and grabbed those enervated hands, without knowing that they would crush my generosity. I realised, I am that birch tree. There were many who would ask me how I am doing but that interrogation came with an expectation that I would be fine nevertheless. Still, I had many to speak about my dolour, but no one with whom I could strike a telepathic connection; who would commiserate with me without any need to shout for myself. That clairvoyance was missing in my world~

    Just like the people in my grandmother's statement, I egressed their humongous world. I came to know why people don't enjoy others' company– because they always wish to be prioritised. They need attention before love, they wish that their efforts to make others happy are acknowledged. Most of us don't recognise their worth. And then they leave us, knowing that the world is just the same, with or without them. I made visions of the city we never were; instead we were an empire with many distant lanes. My faint voice would lose its path in the chaos. I won't wait for anyone to stay back, nor would I break ties intentionally. My universe won't have the glow that a dreamland has in a fairytale– but I won't have anything to regret.

    /������ ���������� ���� ���� ���������� �������� ���������� ������ ���� �� ���������������� ��������/


    ������ ���������� ��������

    Sweeping so gently,
    My canary foliage–
    It looks majestic,

    My leaves are my crown;
    A shade of dandelion,
    Worth a thousand gems,

    Will they shun me now?
    Just one, touching the red soil,
    Two leaves, on the ground,

    The cycle of time–
    Is reversed by the hourglass,
    Five more leave my branch,

    The days of autumn,
    Pass slowly; I am destined,
    To live so lonely,

    So be it, 'tis fine,
    I shall live the way I should–
    Grounded and humble,

    I will stay for all–
    And if they fade far away,
    I will stay for me.


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