...from the cradle to the grave.(part II)

childhoon swam across that small town in the form of that child....the young mother had dreams for the newly born.....dreams that she wanted to happen with herself....that never did....not because of anythin else...but she failed to understand that those were HER dreams....n' when she did....it was just too late for her to think about 'em anymore!....n' so she prayed with all her faith that let her son be different from the rest.....so that even the rest identified him as the rest!....n' the young one still wrapped in innocence....didn't have a clue what plot was being woven around him.....a gift which his mother wanted for him would soon be a curse for him in his later life....was a mystery....yet to be known.

n' so did the songbird sing......the song of four syllables that was almost like a lullaby for him....life was gradually evolvin as the cradle swung...n' the boy had no idea that he was growin....n' soon he began to notice that people around him spoke to each other in a language stranger than what he seemed to understand.....that of the songbird.......n' that was when he made his first promise to himself....that he gotta learn this language.....for he really wanted to know what others felt around him....just like he still does....but doesn't make any promises though!

n' not very later....though not very sooner....he began to understand the stories his mother told him to put him to sleep....n' it was a story of a stranger which he vaguely remembered though not completely......a folklore based on some true incident in some remote past...in some foreign land....."It was a murky evening...in a late autumn....when this stranger came at the door of the most renown physician of the town....seekin relief from the cholera which victimized him....the disease had dwelled within him for quite sometime...n' the stranger had almost formed a habit with it....after treatin with those usual sets of medication....the physician tried to explore his social expertise with the stranger....n' found that the stranger was more sick in his heart than his body....n' as a token of advice ...the physician asked the stranger to go to Marco....the most reputed Jester in the town....the physician told that it was Marco who could give his empty sorrowful heart...a zest for life...which the stranger lacked....n' then that stranger looked into the eyes of the physician with thorough paleness n' submission....uttered the words..."I'm he, Marco!"........."

the boy failed to hear the rest of the story as he got somethin else to see.....a broken kite that got stuck in a tree in the front yard...gettin blown down by the wind.....still caught in the branches.....makin some strange noise.....the little boy felt as if the story n' the kite had some relation....that dealt with his life....but failed to comprehend....n' he fell in the arms of sleep....the most ignorant one i guess....for the story that he left unfinished was more than just a story....which would take more than twenty years to make him understand what it meant......what it meant in his story.......his story......a tale of a boy who wanted to survive....he just needed to survive.....its a tale of the promises.....that he made from the cradle to the grave.....a story about his unexistin existence.....which he thought was more than on right or wrong.....a journey of discoveries without any proofs.......

to be continued...