Creativity..

His thoughts weren't blank. Mere blurred but very curious, his thoughts exclaimed out to be. He walked alone, he wondered if someone followed him; no one did. He fell down, he had no friend offering a hand of care. In a distant land, had he come . His village, was one; where love rung, in it's very winds. Now that he had come to this new city. The roads, that pretended to be wide, but were shorter in comparison to the unending roads of his village. Here, in the city; everyone was proud to live in big houses. In his village, there was no such pretense. People there were equal. No one superior, no one was less accomplished than the other. They walked together, waiting for the acquaintance, if he/she lagged behind. Now coming to this city; he had no one with him to hold his hand when he cried like a little child. He did cry, he felt nostalgia, grief-stricken as he moved about. 

Why is it an essential thing to leave places and make new friends? He questioned himself. Why aren't people alike? Why do their nature's change, with the changing places. They look at my face, they laugh as if I am not normal like them. They treat me, as if I am not a human being. What if, I didn't acquire such disposition and mannerism to talk, walk like they do? What if, I didn't get the best schooling in the country? Why....

In his words..

"My dreams were stuck. The ones that I thought, could be enhancing their glow; just dwarfed like the sunset as the moonlight accustoms the sky. No more sunshine, but sitting with the little light of the night. The night, too weeps with me. When I remember, the girl whom I loved all my life. I would wait for her every day, just to see her glare at me. Whenever she passed her eyes, over my eyes I felt a touch of life. I felt I was alive. She just disappeared. Her aunt asked me to stay away from her. When I was coming to this new city, I wanted to meet her once, just once. I could have given her all my blessings, my life would have been at peace. Why couldn't she meet me that last time?

I had known, it was the last time; a last chance that I could look up at her. The only moment in my life, when I could experience the meaning behind my life. I couldn't see her, she didn't come.."

This way, life poured a lot of sadness unto him. Being in a crowd, he had lost himself somewhere. He heard people passing comments, he heard them abusing his style. They made fun, boys and girls moved away from him. The sacrifices he made to create his identity, had gone in vain. Each day, he lost himself. One day he met a girl, who listened to his notions through his gestures. She talked to him, and he put across his heart to her. All his fears, his pains he described. He had felt, if she was the girl whom he loved; who came up to him. She wasn't that girl. But, a caretaker in that girl; made this guy know that love in this world still existed. That it wasn't important from where you come or you came, but how honest you were and now became. She spoke to him.

She said, "You know, Utkarsh? In this whole society you need to struggle. Someone has rightly framed that, "Life is a struggle." Don't break yourself at this moment. Don't become a romantic fool. Because, love doesn't teach you  to break yourself. It teaches you to see an ocean out of a glass of water. That creativity that strengthens you, to believe that your love shall fulfill one day. By the passing time, that you wait for it to flower; you shall see your life, being so powerful driven, enough to turn the people who are in sorrow to happiness. Bring smile to their faces and see, how the meaning of your love outshines every possibility of completion of your love story. And then, it's not a story. Because, stories have an end. Love is universal. It grows; it is the undying flower of humanity. As it doesn't dwarf, it blooms from person to person. It's creativity that can let a seed germinate. The Mother Earth wants her Children to live merrily. She comes to us, with her affection and care, giving us food to eat, land to walk, and seasons to feel. It's that creativity, that you need to dream of. Believe that your girl looks at you, she's near you. She hasn't gone far."

Her advice moved Utkarsh! He replied. "Yes, love is generous. There's no definite philosophy that can be termed as correct in this world. Philosophy is a real form of creativity. No one can question it. If anyone does question someone's philosophy in life, then it's his/her shortcoming, of not being able to create his/her own. It's about loving your life, that you get your love of life. Every love comes true, with a belief in one's creativity." 

Utkarsh had a friend by his side. In the new place, someone gave him what he had been searching for, "The meaning of his life- to love, and be loved." He had known that it wasn't important, what the world said about him. It was more important, that he would keep on being the way he was and listening to his calling of life.

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