And The House Belongs To...

Many decades ago, in a coastal village in Somnath, Gujarat, a wealthy goldsmith built a grand house for his family. Since everyone lived in a joint family then, he planned for the future and had accordingly asked the architect to ensure that the house had eight rooms, a big hall, kitchen and courtyard. He named it “Vaikunth”, dedicated to Lord Vishnu. The house was always filled with laughter and the sound of cheerful people celebrating joyous occasions. The house witnessed marriages, engagements, baby showers and the eventual destination of life too. Death.

The goldsmith died and left the house to his two sons. His wife too died soon after. The sons lived in harmony and, as was the norm then, had many children. Tragedy struck again when five years later, the younger son, his wife and three children passed away in a train crash. And now, the eldest son, his wife named Nabi Ben and six children were the only people living in that magnificent house. They had four sons and two daughters, all happily married. The daughters had settled abroad in Dubai. The eldest son had moved to Mumbai. Nabi Ben, let other families of the village hold their festivities and celebrations there. In those times, wedding halls or party halls were unheard of.

Ten years later, the house witnessed another death. Nabi Ben’s husband passed away. After the funeral and rituals were completed, the issue of ownership of Vaikunth was brought up. The four sons claimed ownership as legal heirs. Nabi Ben objected to it. She said she was the wife of the deceased and the house belonged to her. In those days, women of the house were never considered as legal successors, though the law had made provisions for them. The sons told her that they will take care of her and the house will still be hers. But Nabi Ben had seen how children behaved with their parents in old age. The scenario of being helpless in her own house scared her. She not only refused to budge but also declared that her daughters too had a share in the house. If the ownership was to be shared then it was only fair that the daughters receive their share. The sons argued that their sisters had been given 3 kilos of gold each during their marriage. To which Nabi Ben replied that the wives of the four sons had also been given 3 kilos gold each. The matter got heated and eventually they filed a case in civil court, claiming ownership. The court, in all its wisdom, declared Vaikunth a disputed property. Vaikunth was sealed.

One of her sons moved to Junagadh with his family and the other two sons moved to Ahmedabad. Life must go on and they all had families to look after and feed. Nabi Ben was now homeless and helpless. She had never needed to work in her life and due to her old age, she wasn't given any work either. Her savings started dwindling. She would stay at her relatives' houses for three months and as soon as she sensed that she wasn't welcome, she would leave. Eventually, she lived in the yards of Vagheshwari temple in Somnath. She would look after the temple and happily accept the “dakshina” given in return. Destiny took a turn for the worse again when there was a theft in the temple and all fingers pointed at Nabi Ben. According to the people, she was the only one in dire need of money and had access to the temple throughout the day. She pleaded but to no avail. She was asked to vacate the premises immediately. Despite all this, Nabi Ben refused to compromise with her sons and stubbornly held her ground. Initially, Nabi Ben's family and cousins persuaded her to let go of her claim. But later on, they were worried that they might end up having to look after her as none of her sons will accommodate her anymore. Not that Nabi Ben would have agreed to them anyway. She often passed Vaikunth and would stare at it with tears in her eyes.

The discord in the family kept getting bitter. The eldest son’s daughter was getting married in Mumbai. He sent out invitations to his brothers and went to see his mother to invite her. After all, the first grandchild of the family was getting married. Nabi Ben refused to meet him. Sadly, the son went back and got his daughter married. The whispers among the guests that the bride's paternal relatives were nowhere to be seen, reached the son. He somehow felt very dejected and sad. He wrote to his mother and siblings that he forfeited his share of the house. He didn't want anything to do with the family who couldn't be there for him in his joyous moments.

Two years later, the second son who lived in Ahmedabad passed away due to heart failure. His wife was angry at Nabi Ben and blamed her for this death. She didn't allow her to come for the funeral and forfeited her husband's share. Nabi Ben was saddened. Saddened but not softened. She refused to forfeit her claim. Her daughters, however, were moved by everything that was unfolding in the family. They requested their mother and brothers to sort it out and both forfeited their claim. With four people forfeiting their claim, the succession was contested among three survivors.

Oh! You might be wondering what happened to the court case. As is the norm with civil cases, the court kept giving out fresh dates for hearing. Each claimant was hopeful of a decision in their favour. But it also started taking a toll on her fourth son's health. Things went so bad that his in-laws asked him to move in with them for his peace of mind. They put forth a condition though that he will forgo his claim on Vaikunth and work with them in Rajkot. They assured him that his family lives in comfort. Thinking of the hardships that he had put his wife and children under, he gave up the fight for the house. Two claimants left.

And finally, after 18 years, the court reached a decision. Nabi Ben was the legal and rightful successor of her husband and hence, Vaikunth belonged to her. Nabi Ben's happiness knew no bounds. Having spent a huge portion of her savings on lawyers, discord and disrespect from the children that she gave birth to, years spent like a nomad… Nabi Ben thought of the huge price she had to pay for owning Vaikunth.

The door to the house was opened. Nabi Ben went through each room of the house and stared at the courtyard lovingly. She sat on the swing and closed her eyes to see her children running around and playing, her husband sitting beside her, the maid bringing in the tea. She heard the cacophony of children, the melodious birds, the drums being played, the women singing songs. She opened her eyes again. There was dust of time and dry leaves of memories scattered everywhere. She closed her eyes again and… never opened them again.

Why don't you write anymore?

 

“Keep writing like so.”

“Why?”

“Whenever you write I feel as if you are trying to convey your own emotions, something that you might want to say directly but can’t.”

“Nothing like that.”

“So you're telling me that the characters in your story aren’t used by you to express yourself?”

“They are just characters in my story with their own opinions and thoughts. They reflect emotions which are generally felt by people anyway. Don’t think too much of it.” He lit his cigarette, sending a puff of smoke in the air as he smoked … blurring Meera’s face. She smiled and said “Whenever I read your stories I feel as if I know something more about you.”

“That’s what you think and what you think is a misconception.” He stood up and said “Just read what I write, don’t read into what I write. Don’t analyse. You might start thinking of things that don’t even exist.”

That was six months ago. He kept writing, she kept reading his work. Only, she stopped commenting and giving her feedback. And then he didn’t publish anything for four months. Such quietness from someone abuzz made her wonder if everything was right with him. She went to his home that evening.

“I thought you forgot where I lived.”

“Oh shut up! I was just going past and thought …”

“For heaven’s sake Meera!” He laughed out loud “What do you mean by “just going past”? My home isn’t in the middle of a market nor does any of your acquaintances live anywhere near here. Your excuses are just as badly cooked as your food.”

She made a face and said “I just came to look up and see if you’re ok. You haven’t written for some time …”

“Because you read me a lot and I want to save something for myself. If I am left with nothing then you will leave me. Just like we discard a plate when there’s nothing left in it.”

Why God?

I look into your eyes
And ask God
"Why can't I see him
Everyday, forever?"

I hug you tightly
And ask God
"Why isn't it in my fate
To be held in his arms?"

I hold your hand
And ask God
"Why can't I walk the
Path of my life with him?"

God pulled you apart from me
And said
"How can I give him to you?
He simply isn't in your destiny".



Sheetal S

I Too Want To Touch The Stars

 

I too want to touch the stars.
I too want to fly
High up in the sky.

My wings are tied.
I am told to break free
God alone knows how hard I try.

And when I do manage to
Wrestle and break free
I am told
There are no stars left for me.




~ Sheetal Soni

I'll resume the fight

 

The wolves howl,
The woods scare
The darkness sneers
I have to go through anyway.

The winds pierce
The cold bites
With no respite
I have to march ahead anyway.

I have done this
A hundred times before.
I will have to do this
Many times more.

But tonight my dear,
I’m drained,
I'm scared.
I'm lost.
I’m bared.

Please hug me tonight
Please hold me in your arms lovingly
All through the night.
Tomorrow I'll be stronger
And I promise …
I'll resume the fight.

A Permanent Scar

I had been going to a patient's house for over eight months as a carer. My patient was an old woman who needed help with medication and personal care. Her son lived with her. The carers were given strict instructions never to leave her alone. Usually it wasn’t a problem as one of her sons was always present.

Last week however the son left when I came and promised he'll be back within half an hour, which is the length of my visit. Half an hour passed, he didn't come. I got ready to leave but suddenly the woman held my hand and cried, telling me not to leave her alone. I called the office and asked them to contact her son. He responded that he'll be back in 15 mins. I assured the woman but she just stood at the door refusing to let me go. The son came, apologised profusely and explained the reason for his delay. He was sorry for his mom's behaviour too but I said it's ok as I still have time for my next visit. This happened again during the week.

Yesterday her son told me the reason behind her terror of being left alone. "We three sons had always known to have happy parents. Mum always made sure the house was In perfect order. We were sent away to boarding school. Whenever we came back from holidays mum would be so happy and she simply wouldn't let us go back. She would cry and plead. We assumed it was her motherly love. Till we grew up. My brother was studying psychology and he insisted that from now on we go to meet our parents without informing them. I found it odd but agreed. So one day we three brothers decided to take leave from college and go meet our parents. The eldest brother had the keys to the house. We reached our house and as we unlocked the door, we saw the horror that our mother had been hiding from us all these years just to keep our childhood normal. My dad was mercilessly beating her with a stick. We rushed in, took mum to a doctor. Dad was too drunk. In the hospital mum cried and told us that he used to hit her only when no one was in the house so that there would be no witnesses. Also, the reason why we were sent away to boarding school. We eventually made mum file for divorce and it's been 5 years that my dad has passed away. But as you can see, the mental scars remain".

I listened with moist eyes. The fear, the terror lives on even after the tormentor dies. That's the cruelty of domestic violence.

The Tree

 

He went and sat under the tree in the forest beside his house.

It wasn't that he didn't have any friends. He had many to play with, to talk to. But none that he could really talk to without being judged. He had once told his friend that he was scared of the dark. His friend told everyone in the class and he got teased about it in the playground. He had then come running to this huge tree and cried. And he felt relieved. Ever since then, he would run to the tree whenever his father told him off, his mother chided him, his teacher scolded him or his friends fought with him. He shared his achievements and jubilations with the tree. Sometimes he would go and sit under the tree and tell all his secrets, all his wishes, his aspirations, his fears.

The tree listened silently … just like it listened to many others like the boy. It was least bothered about the events in the boy's life. And he knew it. But it didn't matter to him because for him it was enough that he could lighten up himself, unburden himself beneath the tree. It's presence gave him solace, his presence didn't matter to the tree.

Some people are trees too.

Sheetal Soni

The Sea

 

The sea. Huge and immense. Calm and serene. Rocky and rough. It sustains a huge diverse ecosystem within it.

The sea. It lets people relax on the shores. It lets people swim in as much as they can. It lets people cross lands over it. It lets people dig in for their food.

Instead of being thankful, some people choose to throw rubbish at the sea and litter it, exploit it, pollute it. The sea bears all calmly. Despite all that is thrown at it, it never breaches its shoreline. And there lies its strength. Its might. It knows that it can punish those erring humans in a matter of a few minutes by running over the very land that they inhabit, destroying everything that comes in its way. But no, that is not its strength.

The sea's strength lies in reigning its temper, its fury and not breaching the coastline because it knows that doing so will cause complete destruction, desecration and death. The power to destroy and yet the control over its own power is its supreme strength.

Some people are like the sea.




~ Sheetal Soni

The Axe And The Rose -2

 

She went along life and her daily routine as before. School, homework, home chores. She stopped going out to play with her friends. Even at school, her teachers and classmates had noticed a change in her behaviour. The girl who used to play pranks, tell jokes and make others laugh was now a stranger to everyone. The sparkle had gone from her eyes. Her smile was a façade.

And then, one day at school, he walked towards her. Her eyes lit up. A butterfly of happiness fluttered in her heart. And he said "I thought I'll let you know I have had the bridge repaired two weeks back. You can now come and meet me again." He then walked away with a smug smile. Had he stayed around he would have seen how icy cold her eyes had gone.

She went home … his words still ringing in her ears. She went to the garden shed, took the axe out and hacked away her end of the bridge till it was no longer possible for anyone to cross over. Bless the axe!

Sheetal Soni

Windows And Switches

Depression. Like a dark room. You are crying. You are confused. You are scared because you are scarred. You look for windows to open and switches to turn on. You look for anything that will bring a light in the room but the darkness is overwhelming, always winning. You sit down and start accepting the darkness, almost even start loving it.

You hear knocks at the door … the sounds of those who want to reach out to you. You are sceptical. Someone left you in this dark room and as a result you assume everyone will.

Listen. Walk towards that door and open it. The person knocking the door on the other side wants to help you show your way out, wants to show you where the windows are, wants to show you where the switches are. This is because the person has been in this room before. And you need to know about the windows and switches. Why? So that, one day you too can help people find light in their dark rooms. People who are lost in darkness. People like you.



Sheetal Soni

Karma

 

18 years back in London I was travelling in a bus and as I was about to get off I saw a bag. I picked the bag and thought of handing it over to the driver, as the thing to be done. But the driver's shift was changing and he had come out of his cab. I was getting late so I took the bag with me. When I reached home I opened the bag and found all the essential documents of an old woman. Passport, driving licence, social security book, bills, cash included. There was no number mentioned, only the address. I thought of going to the address and returning the documents to the rightful owner. I went but no one was there. The neighbour informed me that she was in hospital and will be discharged within a day. I left a short note with my number on it and put it through the mailbox. The neighbour warned me that the old woman suffered from mental health issues. I thought of going to the police if she failed to communicate within three days. However, on the third day she called me. I asked her a few questions for verification and then decided upon a meeting point that evening.

When I met her I handed over the documents to her but she looked uneasy. She said "The forty five pounds here in the bag is all that I have. I have nothing to give you as a reward". I said it was nothing really. She said "No, kindness must always be repaid so that it is encouraged and the cycle continues. But I'm afraid I have nothing for you." I thought of her words and said "Actually you can repay me back. I saw a rosary in your bag which means you pray faithfully. Please pray for me that should I ever lose anything precious of mine, it should be returned to me". She smiled and said "Amen!"

Two years back I was in Rajkot, preparing for my trip to London. I had been living in India for 12 years and had to ensure I had all the necessary documents. I had left home early in the morning, picked up my tickets, my bank and other important documents and when returning home I realised the bag was missing. I looked for it everywhere, every vegetable and fruit vendor, every shop that was en route from the last place visited by me. After 2 hours of fruitless searching I came home broken. I had to go to the police station, register a missing documents report and would then get duplicates of the originals I lost.

And the phone rang. A person asked me a few questions and then said the bag was with them. This will sound silly but I burst crying. The man patiently waited for me to calm down and explained where I could pick the documents from. And then it struck me that my number wasn't mentioned anywhere on the documents. I asked him and he said he found the bag at a vegetable vendor's cart. He picked it and meant to hand it over to the police but had to go to the bank first. He mentioned the bag and its contents to the clerk. Coincidentally, it was the same branch as mine. The clerk recognised my name and gave my number to the man. When I picked up the bag I was in tears and asked him how could I ever repay him. Suddenly it was a déjà vu moment, except I was the recipient of the kindness. He smiled and said he did what was right. I smiled and said "I pray to God that you may never lose anything precious to you and if at all you do, may it be returned to you intact immediately".

The reason I shared this incident is that when we do good we expect good from that person. But that's not necessarily how karma works. You do good to person A and later on person B will repay that good to you. To expect to be repaid in kind for kindness from the same person often leads to disenchantment. Keep doing good. And it will all come back to you one day, at the right time.

God bless you all.

~ Sheetal Soni

A wooden log or an iron rod?

When the cold winds of boredom blow, people often seek warmth in the fire of entertainment. This fire can be stoked and fuelled in many ways … one of these is to wind up people. Fill people's heads with stories, myths and ideas and instigate them enough to rouse them for a fight. The ensuing fight is then entertainment for those cold bored people. 

Some people will believe in hearsay, they will let gossip affect them and they will initiate a fight or an argument, without realising that they are harming themselves in the process. They are wooden logs that others use to fuel the fire of their own entertainment. 

Some people will keep a calm, steady head and won't jump to conclusions or actions when gossip is brought to them. They use their own brains to assess a situation rather than accept it in the way it is presented to them. They are iron rods that refuse to be used as fuel for the fire of other's entertainment. 

So, what are you? A wooden log or an iron rod? 

~ Sheetal Soni

The Axe and The Rose - 1

“Well, how is this?” she asked him and flaunted the painting again in front of him as they were walking back from the school. Though today she walked with a slight limp. She had tripped and hurt her ankle.

He looked at it cursorily and smiled. He knew that she painted for him, of him. He also knew exactly what irritated her. He knew her too well. “Oh it is just like anything regular. Nothing special.”

She stopped walking. Her headache, her sprained ankle and now his words. She ripped the painting and with tears in her eyes said “You don't deserve to be painted for. You don't deserve my friendship. I don't want to see you again.” And before he could say anything she started crossing the little wooden bridge that was over the little stream that ran between their houses. She reached home, fell on the bed and cried. A storm was brewing. And so was a fever inside her. For three days she was almost bedridden. By the fifth day her old spirit had returned. She wondered as to why he hadn't come to check on her because he used to do so before. She had a bath, put on her prettiest frock and went to her garden. She plucked out a lovely red rose and crossed over the bridge to walk to his home. She knocked at his door though the door was open. He was busy doing his project. She went inside and offered him the rose. He ignored her and carried on with his project. She sensed that he was angry. So she put the rose on his table and sat on a chair beside him. “I'm sorry I misbehaved. I wasn't well.”

He still didn't look up. She was fighting back her tears because she knew he hated that. “I know you are angry but please try and understand.” And then she sat in silence while he carried on with his project. After an hour she got up to leave. “I'll be back tomorrow. I have to go and get lessons from Mary as I was unable to go to school.” He didn't look up. She left with a heavy heart. That evening she kept herself busy copying the lessons. The school was closed for two weeks for term holidays. She was glad as she could catch up with the missed lessons.

Next day she did the same. Had a bath, had her breakfast, went to the garden and plucked out a rose, crossed over the little bridge and went to see him. He had obviously made much progress on his project. “That is so good! Your work is so neat!” She said as she offered him the rose. He didn't look up. She left the rose on the table and as was her habit, she told him about everything that went on in the day. Not once did he acknowledge her presence. She sat for an hour and then left. This went on for a week. Till one day …

She had a bath, had her breakfast, went to the garden, plucked a rose and was walking on the bridge when she froze … He was chopping off with an axe the part of the bridge at his end. When he ensured that it was now no longer possible for anyone to leap that long enough, he stopped hacking and went home with his axe.

She walked back slowly towards her home. She then went in the garden shed, got her father's axe out and chopped off the rose bush. She then got a bottle of acid and poured on the stump of the chopped rose bush. All this without tears in her eyes.

For she knew, she will now no longer be able to give roses to anyone nor will she be able to be friends with anyone … else.

Nobody

Wish I was the sunlight

Gently kissing your face

Full of fresh morning grace.

Wish I was the breeze

Touching you, hugging you,

Brushing past you.

Wish I was the water

Running over your body,

Quenching your thirst.

Wish I was the night

To whom you would surrender

Your weariness, your worries.

Wish I was the thought

That dwells on your mind,

That throbs in your heart.

Wish I was the reason

That made you smile

That made you say

“It's a beautiful life!”

But I'm just me.

A nobody.

Waited.

She looked at the straw hut.

Two years. It had been two years when she was sitting under the tree and crying when Sagar came along. He stopped, bent towards her and asked if she was ok. She quickly wiped off her tears. Tears were too personal to be shared with a stranger. He sat beside her and offered her his handkerchief. She just looked away and said “I'm fine”. He sat nevertheless. And that is how it began.

Sagar would meet her everyday under this tree. And then came autumn. The tree shed its leaves … once family, now strangers. So Sagar built a straw hut with her help. They met, they talked, they shared cosy moments. A few months later he started becoming distant and aloof. The daily meetings were reduced to weekly and then fortnightly. She waited. She craved his presence, the intimacy. She asked him if he had “moved on”. He laughed and said he never leaves or moves on. But he never explained his absences to her. She waited. Everyday she would go to the straw hut and wait. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her, how much those moments meant to her. But he was always in a hurry. She waited. She sensed that he was under stress. She asked him and he said he will tell about it later as he was in a hurry now. She waited. She wanted to tell him that she had got an offer from a city far away, wanted to ask him if she should leave or stay. He said he'll think and let her know later. She waited. And then one day she went to the straw hut.

She looked at the straw hut. Looked at it for quite a few minutes. She then took out a box of matchsticks, lit many and kept them in the hut. Slowly, a fire started raging and eating the hut. She smiled, turned away and walked towards home. Waiting, no more.

Have you ever ...

Have you ever kept walking ...
Knowing that there is no destination ahead?

Have you ever prayed with all your heart ...
Knowing that your prayers are never going to be answered?

Have you ever kept swimming ...
Knowing that there is no shore ahead?

Have you ever asked questions aloud ...
Knowing that there are no answers?

Have you ever passionately wished for something ...
Knowing that it simply isn't in your destiny?

Have you ever waited for someone ...
Knowing well that the person is never ever going to turn up?

Have you ever lived ...
Without hope?

My Bar Of Chocolate

I never understood why. Why is it that I fell in love with you? Beautiful as it is, it is in stark contrast to the cruelty of destiny. For, as much as I wish to and as much as I want to, I can never ever have you. You remind me of an incident in my childhood. 

Once when I was a little girl, I was walking past a confectionery store and saw this lovely chocolate bar. I wanted to have it. Checked my pocket. Didn't have enough money. Thought of getting it from home and remembered I wasn't allowed chocolate because a visit to the dentist was due. I couldn't have the chocolate, but that didn't mean I didn't want the chocolate. I stared at it till my brother came looking for me and took me home. 

You are that bar of chocolate that I so badly want and know that I can never have. I watch you and adore you from afar, regardless ... Till someone comes and takes me away from you. Takes me home. 

Mind Games

A person likes you and looks for ways to come closer to you ... to become your friend. And once that person is your friend he/she becomes the best one ever ... shares secrets, is there for you in your hour of need, stands up for you and fights for you, lends their shoulder to you for you to cry on, helps you out emotionally or financially. You start trusting that person. But slowly you start losing all your other friends because this person won’t share you with anyone. You become emotionally attached and dependent on that person. And this is when the mind games begin.

Manipulating you by showing you the fault of your other friends, of emotionally blackmailing you and reminding you that “I have always stood by you and worked for your good. If you choose not to believe me or listen to me then we can call this friendship quits” ... You are now isolated. You are scared of losing the only close friend in your life and hence agree to whatever the person says. The person knows how vulnerable you are and plays upon your insecurities very well. Instead of helping you to be independent, the person ensures that he/she becomes your mental crutch. You forget how to think, react or resolve on your own and rely on this mental crutch for all your problems. 

You might wonder why would anyone do something so sinister. Well, human tendency is such that it loves to control things around it – nature, weather, machinery, etc. And what else could be the most powerful form of yielding control than over another person’s mind? It feeds their sense of power and once they know that they have full control over someone’s mind they move on to another person ... leaving the one behind a complete emotional wreck. They actually don’t care about you. They just enjoy the power of controlling your mind and influencing your decisions to their advantage, all under the garb of friendship. Garb of friendship because a true friend never imposes their opinions on you. A true friend will advise you and then respect your decision regardless.

A true friend will never play mind games on you.

Touché

He looked lovingly at his creation. A pair of eyes and ears, nose, lips, mouth, cheeks, forehead and chin on the face, neck, torso, a pair of hands and legs, hair ... He had paid attention to every minute detail. Prior to this, all His creations were His experiments. And he had made many. Some lived on land, some in the oceans and a chosen few on both. He had made the finishing touches to his latest creation when He remembered His own rule – “Every species shall mate with its own and never with another species”. So He made another version of his creation and now He had both – a male and a female of His latest creation. The human species.

The archangels all looked at the creation in awe and chorused, “Awesome!”

One of them gleefully said, “Just imagine, once this species starts breeding there will be so many of these awesome creatures everywhere on earth!”

God sighed. He shook his head and said “Perfection is boring. And if the offspring bears resemblance to its parents there shall be much unwanted confusion and chaos. Why, the species might even lose interest in breeding if it sees the same of the opposite kind everywhere, eventually leading to its extinction.”

The archangels chorused “How true!”

God sighed. He then started tweaking the template and though the base format remained the same, He started making alterations as to the colour of the skin, hair and eyes, the height. It took Him quite a few days but He eventually came up with varied editions of His latest creation. He lined them up proudly for the archangels to marvel.

The archangels chorused “Marvellous!”

God sighed. The physical attributes were all multifarious but what of the behavioural attributes? With His divine powers He instilled varying degrees of the seven virtues and vices in the various editions of his creation. So now, not only did they differ according to colour, height and physicality but also in kindness, cruelty, brevity, cowardice, prudence, greed, intelligence, foolishness, magnanimity, miserliness, honesty, deceitfulness, etc. He lined them up proudly.

The archangels chorused, “Magnificent!”

God finally heaved a sigh of relief. He instructed his archangels to descend on earth and position the different editions of his creations in different parts of the world. He would then induce life in them and they will then sustain and reproduce their own kind. Soon the earth will have a variety of his most proud creation – the human.

Many centuries later the humans formed a variety of Gods. Touché!

Why so?

Why can’t people just stay? Why do they have to leave? One by one, losing people from my life. If I put my finger on someone and wish for them to stay with me forever, destiny deliberately removes them from my life. Situations in life, marriage, career and worst of all death. An excuse is sought and they are made to leave. Standing on a firm ground with them and when they walk away the ground around turns into quicksand. A quicksand of depression. Can’t move ahead and remain stuck. Till a person comes, holds the hand and leads out of that place. But then, eventually that person too leaves. And you are left again in the same situation. I now no longer wish to hold anyone’s hand anymore as I know the one who holds mine today, will leave it tomorrow. 

Why does it happen that people go away from our lives? Why do they even come into our lives if they have to leave? Why is their company temporary? Why does every effort to make them stay drive them even further away? 

Why is my life just a temporary shelter and not someone’s home to stay forever?