Sometimes there comes a moment in life when one feels tired of constant running and all the unexpected spirals and turns that life brings, and needs a simple story. No speed. No lofty words. No dramatic events. Just simple words over a cup of chai. No additional characters. Just two people with their huge backpacks of experiences and fears and a long awaited story.
There once was a boy who had nothing, only the innocence of a child inscribed in his soul... And there was a girl who was entrapped in a cage of her fears and illusions. They've met once as children...
The girl got lost on a desert and the boy took her hand to help her find the way to the land where the trees were green, the parrots lived and many children laughed sitting under a huge thousand year old tree and listening to stories told by their hundred year old grandmother. Life seemed so peaceful there in this little oasis at the heart of the busy world.
Suddenly one day the children looked at themselves and realised that they suddenly grew up and entered the world of adults. The girl was scared of becoming an adult. It seemed to be a painful process of vivisection of her beliefs and values that she cherished, so everyday she started falling deeper and deeper into the cage that the world was preparing for her. Her long hair got entangled in a knot of thoughts that exploded one day when it could not bare itself any longer. She was desperately searching for the boy's hand, but he left in search of bread. He was an adult after all, and there was no space left in adulthood for green leaves, birds flying high in the sky and empty boxes that one could gift to each other. In adulthood one has to be serious and walk straight ahead without turning back at crazy memories of the childhood that one had.
The girl was lost again in life and there was no hand around her, but she was not an ordinary girl. She had an amazing gift of faith and hope that one day she would meet her childhood friend again to remind him of the stories they used to tell each other as children. Hope can sometimes be stronger than reality around us...
So even though it was unreal the girl took out a golden thread from her pocket and threw it up in the air... and she began to walk believing that the thread would lead her straight to the boy's feet... And so it did...
Sometimes life writes stories for us but sometimes we can write stories and scripts for ourselves too...
They sat in a small tea shop somewhere in the busy world not really knowing what to say to each other. So many years have passed... The silence and incoherent, unimportant words disturbed them. But it was not the words that were important. They did not meet for words... The boy looked at the girl and even though her face was that of a mature woman now she still had that smile that made him feel... How did it make him feel the girl wondered as she looked into his eyes observing her from behind glasses. She always used to smile at the thought of his short sighted eyes following her wherever she would go during their childhood days as if in fear that she may get lost somewhere in the desert and he will never be able to find her again. If his fear was that strong then why did he allow himself to become an adult? But there was no space for regrets, buts or ifs. It was only about them. The girl took out the golden thread out of her pocket and the boy was amazed to see how it's other end fell right next to his feet. He lift it up to pass it to her and their hands met... It's not the words but the touch and energies that we give to each other that are important.
They left the shop holding each other hands... and now they are searching for their own green tree under which they could tell stories to thousand of children that pass by as they grow old together and each day brings new wrinkles to their hundred years old short sighted eyes... and they are still holding each other's hands...
There once was a boy who had nothing, only the innocence of a child inscribed in his soul... And there was a girl who was entrapped in a cage of her fears and illusions. They've met once as children...
The girl got lost on a desert and the boy took her hand to help her find the way to the land where the trees were green, the parrots lived and many children laughed sitting under a huge thousand year old tree and listening to stories told by their hundred year old grandmother. Life seemed so peaceful there in this little oasis at the heart of the busy world.
Suddenly one day the children looked at themselves and realised that they suddenly grew up and entered the world of adults. The girl was scared of becoming an adult. It seemed to be a painful process of vivisection of her beliefs and values that she cherished, so everyday she started falling deeper and deeper into the cage that the world was preparing for her. Her long hair got entangled in a knot of thoughts that exploded one day when it could not bare itself any longer. She was desperately searching for the boy's hand, but he left in search of bread. He was an adult after all, and there was no space left in adulthood for green leaves, birds flying high in the sky and empty boxes that one could gift to each other. In adulthood one has to be serious and walk straight ahead without turning back at crazy memories of the childhood that one had.
The girl was lost again in life and there was no hand around her, but she was not an ordinary girl. She had an amazing gift of faith and hope that one day she would meet her childhood friend again to remind him of the stories they used to tell each other as children. Hope can sometimes be stronger than reality around us...
So even though it was unreal the girl took out a golden thread from her pocket and threw it up in the air... and she began to walk believing that the thread would lead her straight to the boy's feet... And so it did...
Sometimes life writes stories for us but sometimes we can write stories and scripts for ourselves too...
They sat in a small tea shop somewhere in the busy world not really knowing what to say to each other. So many years have passed... The silence and incoherent, unimportant words disturbed them. But it was not the words that were important. They did not meet for words... The boy looked at the girl and even though her face was that of a mature woman now she still had that smile that made him feel... How did it make him feel the girl wondered as she looked into his eyes observing her from behind glasses. She always used to smile at the thought of his short sighted eyes following her wherever she would go during their childhood days as if in fear that she may get lost somewhere in the desert and he will never be able to find her again. If his fear was that strong then why did he allow himself to become an adult? But there was no space for regrets, buts or ifs. It was only about them. The girl took out the golden thread out of her pocket and the boy was amazed to see how it's other end fell right next to his feet. He lift it up to pass it to her and their hands met... It's not the words but the touch and energies that we give to each other that are important.
They left the shop holding each other hands... and now they are searching for their own green tree under which they could tell stories to thousand of children that pass by as they grow old together and each day brings new wrinkles to their hundred years old short sighted eyes... and they are still holding each other's hands...
