In my previous life I was a story teller.
Dragging myself from village to village,
where people would throw me some coins
to weave fantasy around their mundane lives
At my will
I would make them cry
and laugh.
Children rolled over and clapped with joy
as my characters
faced the most absurd plots I could weave
Except him,
who would neither laugh
nor shed a tear,
as he stood there
staring at me.
Challenging
Would u like to hear a story ? I asked him.
“not unless it is the story of all stories” he said
And wherever I went he would be there
watching and listening,
challenging
‘can u tell me the story of all stories ?’
How could there be one story that defined all stories ?
and if there were
what value would I have ?
if there be just one story to tell ?
‘You are of no value to me’ he said
‘unless you can tell me the story of all stories’
And he walked away
challenging,
never looking back
amused.
Silly man,
How could I make a living
If I told the same story
again and again ?
But I died.
Never being able to tell another story
Have you ever died of thirst
in the presence of a glass of water
that you cannot see ?
And into this life
He came again.
He took my hand
and showed me the ocean
and asked me to see,
and to observe
For the story of all stories was there,
a story that had no end
and no beginning.
Each rising swell
a new Plot that arose from the ocean
and then merged back
instantly
endlessly
unpredictably
inexorably,
millions arising
and immedietly going back to the source
The Source
The Story of all Stories
Shekhar
“Have you ever died of thirst
in the presence of a glass of water
that you cannot see ?”…
only to emerge again and again to witness the sounds of change passing in the breezes
whispering to me
come and surrender all of your thoughts
and we shall become
One.
~~~
Cinda
a new Plot that arose from the ocean
and then merged back…….
SUN our stories are connected to it and its story runs around us.
respected sir,
ur a amazing writer after reading the story teller or ur any of the story ,the whole thing runs frame to frame in the mind and it presurze u to think up that situation
this too happen when i heared one interview of urs on paani its amazing view which u try to be seen by the audience whie just hearing up the story
Liked the story very much. Perhaps it striked you after you read “Haron and the Sea of Stories” by Salman Rusdi
MIRACLES OF MY WORLD
If I could stretch the day beyond its 24 hours
If I could make the bee deliver me a drop of honey each day
If I could steal the blush of the pink rose and make it mine
If I could put the fish in the sky and fly it across the blue line.
If I could touch and bring some green to the fallen autumn leaves
If I could raise the wrinkles of an ageing hand
If I could add some light into the squirrel’s burrow
If I could breathe life into my wooden dolls.
I realize I cannot do any of this
Not in the world in which you and I live
So I weave my own little world
Now I know why I am a Storyteller.
Simply beautiful. I too write short stories so happened to read yours. Simply loved this one. Sir, you are a wonderful writer.
Regards,
Madhavi
while trying to find a road to sustain the thirsty writer in me..I came across a lake of thoughts..penned by you, devoured by me.
It was wonderful to read this poem of a story..
I will come back to read more..
Have a Beautiful Day!
Cheers
Rashminder
badiya hai…
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