Skip to main content

The Great Fig Tree

It's only in these wee hours of the night,when the city rests. It's only when the nights are so horrifying that I can no more convince myself to persevere.

I am a happy woman otherwise. It's rare that you don't  find me break out into fits of laughter at mundane jokes and grope my aching belly soon after

I am like that great fig tree with the vibrant aura of victory against autumn. So fresh and lively. The tree who has submitted her life to the virtue of kindness.That who apparently knows of nothing but joy. It's baffling how never ever could a living being fathom what demons she hides between layers of skin that accumulate to harden into the bark over the years of struggle between life and death. The tree that has faced all the winds slash through her soul up till this moment.

But the thought of storms scare her now. She is all but happy. A plethora of melancholic clouds have drenched her to the skin over time.

You say,  "Too bad. Sorrow will dilapidate her". Well, she knows better. But how often have you seen a tree chop herself just to grow new skin?

Storms disappear. Storms never really disappear.

Comments

  1. Wow, I felt like your writing was my writing. How could you know? Sisters in suffering - no-one really is alone. Thank you.
    Cbreeze

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hey there, This is great post which I found here. My name is Faiyaz Patel, I am the CEO & Founder of BingHuman.blogspot.in I am a dream chaser who has gained a wealth of knowledge in Human behavior and personal development over the past three years through self-education. My mission is to inspire millions of people to become entrepreneurs by awakening their minds to their greatness that resides within them. Visit My Site for more Information. BingHuman.blogspot.in

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Death Comes Closer...

When the passion in my veins
becomes the poison in my blood
and death comes closer by a step
I will not shrivel in sudden fear
or dissolve into a mist of a pitiable plight
For even when I die
My words will illuminate lives with it's
perennial light.

A Morning

It was in that morning.
At the crack of dawn, she rose up from bed unable to bear the inconsequential lying anymore. Sleep had barren her like rain does to a land too devoted in it's sunny rendezvous. She climbed upto the rooftop. The sun was still an infantile globoid of vermillion gracing the dark sky as if it were the parting of an Indian woman's hair. Lights still glowed on aloof distant buildings visible despite the fog. She saw a pigeon bossing around another and ravens that had risen from their slumber to the joy of hovering amidst the clouds. But no sign of human could be traced. No cool winds swept past. No coos or barks or mews were heard save for an isolated crow's melancholic rendition.
As if the world had come to a standstill around her. She stood alone, basking in the glory of the dawn for sometime. And then like nothing at all it came rushing to settle on her like stubborn dust.
In that moment, that day, propped on that makeshift sofa she had designed for …

Déjà Vu

As I look through the black and white scriptures smudged with gibberish, I want to strongly recall when have I been sitting here before smothering dusky sunlight by the window on this bed.
I know some other time too I was looking at my fingernails appearing yellow in the twilight- pale and bland like my life! I know there was another time in the past I was here, immersed in these feelings realising I was trapped in between reality and desires. When was it that this fear had originated- the one I feel simmering like a dirty brown broth, slowly pulling each of my entrails into destruction. It was a time I know, but can't remember. I wonder if it was long long ago that you had left me and this time was only a recurrence of the inevitable- past mingled into present.I wonder; my heart races through the night. I wonder and I can't stop...