A tale I was
fortunate to hear…by the end of it, I could only feel a few tears rolling down
everything else was calm and mellow. I could see outline of her body which was once
healthy but now withered yet she continues holding on her composure, physically
in pain yet she continues to bleakly smile, visibly tried yet she continues to feed
ounces through her to the tiny life. A life she gave from her own life. All of this was visible to a man’s eye who would
never experience any of it in absolute sense, but can be prideful in taking
acclaim of the entire occurrence. After all doesn’t everything have a significance
in the consequential scheme of affairs? Just a tiny little lump of seed but
isn’t it where it all started? Even to this moment I believe am fortunate to feel
every bit of it, both as a man and more as women, but I could only just feel. And
then I silently wonder why only men get to be kings and a few more tears find
their way to peace.
I hold the little
infant; which still neither has a name nor has an identity but certainly has a
LIFE… IT continues to observe. OBSERVATION is the only calm language he knows,
observation is the only trait everyone around her does not know!
Though the infant does
not have a name yet, it certainly has an imposed resemblance to someone she has
no awareness about, I wonder if he will ever have. Every minuscule part of his body
which only made it appear cute also had a resemblance, to him or to her or to IT.
Every passing soul once an infant themselves, though it appeared such a time in
their life was as old as a past life, had a judgment to pass on making more resemblances.
Every delightful movement of the little one, though should have only brought
sheer natural smiles, we even tagged and associated these moves to some more remote
resemblances. And that’s how he / she starts getting his imposed identity from
the very spur of its existence, from the very moment he got his life from
another life. O yes! The world is all about relativity, isn’t it?
Am still in a deep
bewilderment which women I knew was more beautiful, am further in doubt as
regards why would I even want to know it, weird! But at times that’s what mind
seeks, weirdness. Nonetheless, was the women pale yet glowing that gave life more
beautiful or the one I knew for years and prior a new life came into existence more
beautiful. Are they different women? The world that I coexist with views them as
different and I know that for-sure. I presume it’s vaguely safe hereafter for
her, since the world views her beauty differently, vague but safe. If only it
was true that beauty lies in the eyes of beholder, if only everyone understood
this phrase as much as they state. I would rather state from my keen observations
of mankind, that in an era of today, the pace at which surroundings are
vanishing every passing day is an era elapsed, beauty lies in shapes and sizes,
curves and completeness, postures and appearances. Moreover in genders and pre
conceived biases that we educate our minds with, we could have made it a
beautiful mind too, if only! And it was through these perspectives and
knowledge everyone was viewing same women’s beauty yet differently. She was
happy-sad. I was awfully sad yet smiling.
Beauty of a women
is serendipity for some while it IS for rest. Her fading beauty is something
crowds are yearning for, while her softness aging with her is the nectar which barely
one is aware of, but for herself. While everyone loves her, none let her
love. If only one understood her beauty
vulnerability would never get to harshness and indulgence would never get
rushed with culmination. Her serenity should make one yearn for her hug and
mere touch, such is her beauty that makes colors appear more colorful, and her
supple feel is like the moist texture on the petals of a blossomed flower at
the dawn. Her simplicity depicts in her stillness, her equanimity is herd in
her silence. Such is the description of beauty that every women is blessed
with, it’s for every pair of eyes to look at such beauty when they are shut,
it’s for every beating heart to connect to such beauty and to the rhythmic
vibration of hers. It’s only such mellow yet agile beauty that makes her able of
bringing life into being through her own life. It was a tale by the end of which
everything was divinely mellow.
