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We are all Writers


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One of my friends once said that every person has a story to tell; he or she is just waiting for the right person to share it with at the right time. Life is a journey, and each one of us starts alone on a solitary road, with an empty earthen pot on our head. As we walk on this road, it occasionally rains. These rains are what we call experiences. We collect some of them in our earthen pots. We collect them, preserve them but keep them to ourselves. And on the warm sunny days with clear blue skies, when we have all the time to introspect, water sometimes seeps out through the porous walls of the pot. That is when our fellow travelers can see a part of us. They know us through our stories. The stories that are shaped out of our experiences. These warm sunny days are when we reflect upon ourselves. These warm sunny days are when we tell our stories. These warm sunny days are when we write.

When on the topic of writing, I get reminded of the tens of times when tens of my friends have reminded me the most obvious fact — that I have not been writing lately; and that I SHOULD be writing. While their allegations are justified, it is not true that I haven’t thought of writing lately. And it was during one of these ‘thought’ sessions that this weird thought came to my mind that I have not been all that dormant these days. I have been writing. In fact, all of us are continuously writing. A researcher has been writing articles in journals, a reporter has been writing columns in the newspaper, a musician has been writing new music, a painter has been writing new paintings, a player is writing new milestones.

Writing is penning down stories and embedding emotions and experiences in them. This embedding need not always be in words. In fact, most of us don’t write words. Painters tell their stories through paintings, photographers by their photos, and dancers by their dance. Most people, however like their stories simply spoken to an individual. Everyone writes stories. Everyone shares their experiences. The only factor that changes is the people with whom the stories are shared.

The longer we walk on the road of life, the more water does our earthen pot collect. Water is heavy and so are the experiences. We all walk along until the pot is too heavy to carry. The pot then topples and eventually falls.. And all the water spills on the ever-thirsty sands; and all that remains are marks and a fading trail… Until we pick up another empty pot and embark on another journey again…

The First Spring


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Well, the grass was just too long for him; but who cares! It was the first spring in his life! With so many colours around, he really had a tough time posing for the snap. You can’t be ‘just casual’ about the background flowers with so many choices around.

“Doesn’t white suite me the best?”

“No, thet are too dull. Are you a grandpa? Buck up man! be more cheerful. Orange it should be.” said Mouse.

“Don’t be silly, red’s the best. Take a snap in then no time would you see ladies swarming around you.” countered Harvey

” And how many times have you tried and failed to please Deutsch Fraulein? Talking of pleasing ladies! Huh! Take my word. Magenta is the way to go.”, Witch added in an affirmative tone.

And soon was the whole area down with commotion. Typical Dede style. In the world where giving advice is free, everyone gets his share.

Dejected and confused, Alien slowly sidelined himself. And then suddenly a tiny little creature caught his attention. Curious, he ran towards the flower it was sitting on. But the creature was too quick to fly off to another one. And elated, he continued chasing. It was a butterfly after all. And surely they were not found in Mars. And getting hold of it would only be a dream come true.

However, Alien was not the only one to notice the butterfly. Sunny, an aspiring photographer (in those days) did pretty well to capture the moment. Probably it was the best snap he ever took. The elation was evident on his face. But there was a small problem – he missed the butterfly.

That was a wonderful day, when all the Dedes were out to celebrate the spring. And this photo which Sunny presented him that day, was the most wonderful gift he ever had. After reliving the moment for long he kept this photo back in the drawer. And then as he looked out of his window, at the colourful carpet of leaves on the roadside; he exclaimed with a smile, “This world can never be boring!”. Can it?

N.B.
This story is written to be submitted to to a competition on my friend’s blog (http://dedepuppets.com). She is a wonderful artist and an online hermit. Don’t forget to visit her parallel universe!

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