On an unknown rocky rough path, lay a boulder at a side. The debilitating sun gleamed off its dark hard skin, hardened with torments of time. The mighty boulder stood so, firm and invulnerable, yet unworthy for an instance of genuine attention or a word of admiration. Often wanderers of the path, ridiculed it with an epithet, “The worthless phlegmatic burden.” As one of them carved on this rock, their favourite byname for it, with pride it took the mockery and crowned itself with the ludicrous sobriquet. Never it uttered a sigh of grief, and never it wiped off when they spat at it.
The sun can be merciless, and so can be life. A stranger who was passing by the rock, weakened by the sun, athirst was her soul, she craved for a drop of appeasement. The life-force stolen off her by the bandits of treachery and her smile taken away; there she was, left despaired and restless. She sat on the very boulder that never tasted thankfulness. The rock comforted her, on which she decided to spend some time. Blessed she was with time in abundance; for her, the path led nowhere, she floated rudderlessly as the remains of a wrecked ship.
The rock never pronounced a syllable of wretchedness; the intrusion, it welcomed with an amiable warmth of its hard dermis. Anon, the garment of darkness with fine art of celestial bodies, draped the twilight; it was night. The cold wind even more cruel than the scorching heat of the day. But, the boulder kept the woman warm with its retained heat from the noon.
The rock bosomed the woman and while she laid on it in peace, the rock exhibited an incredible deed. Its heart from deep within the tough shell, hummed a mollifying lullaby, listening to which the woman let a smile take its place on her lips, and a solitary tear drop trickled down from her eye. The rock didn't let this priceless pearl stolen away by the wind; it opened its pores to let the drop of tear permeate into its heart.
As the night progressed, while still in sleep she recited her tale of melancholy, and she scratched on the rock, her pain and agony. Pertaining to its imbecilic nature, the rock imprudently bought possession of the hurt, carved into its surface. Night soon passed while she slumbered like a child in the protection of the boulder. The therapeutic hum alleviated her suffering, and she was once again full with vigour. She, once again, had purpose and the path eagerly awaiting her to be walked upon. The rock, it seemed, had whispered the secrets of being merry and bestowed upon her the gift of equanimity, while she was asleep.
Exhilarated and ready she was to continue her journey. She looked ahead and saw that it was a long way to go. She dusted off the dirt of her shoes on the rock, and spat on it. Disdainfully she walked away without looking back, and the rock gawked in hope for a sign of gratitude. And, as her image misted away in the distance, it spoke with a gaping heart,
“As strangers they come, and yet strangers they are,
Never will I mourn again for my imbecilic heart,
Nay will the world change, and never will I,
As a sanctuary here I lay, until I turn to dust and die.
And when you leave, which at last you will,
Do look back to thank, as you walk down this hill,
But for now, restrain me not, wind, and let it swell,
May this be the last drop of tear that pours out of my well.”
In the journey of life, you would encounter “rocks,” that comfort you and ease you off your pain. They never care if you're a stranger or a friend, they just help. When you leave, please do look back to thank them, for it doesn't cost you a penny to do so, but for them, it's priceless.
Have a beautiful day ahead.
Copyright (c) 2014 Shine Jayakumar
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