Out in the cold, away from a shivering city, was a mammoth, and marshy, waste land. One night, a surge of moist cold air, met a wave of even chillier but equally humid air, over that dirty swamp. The three mated, and gave birth to billions and zillions of small, opaque, droplets of water. This tiny, almost invisible progeny clung to each other for dear life. Individually, they were so insignificant, that they would have just dropped down on the marsh and perished. Together, holding on to each other’s miniscule hands, they however formed an almost invincible army. Entwined to each other they wafted to the city, and silently encompassed it. That morning, there was no dawn. The unsuspecting populace woke up to find their cities covered by a blanket of thick, blind fog. It was all pervading and covered everything and everyone. It was thinner than the finest muslin cloth and thicker than any formidable, impregnable wall, because it would not let your vision travel. The moment you stepped into it, it engulfed your eyesight, your ability to see. Do you know who the three parents, that mated in the cold that night were? They were deceit, intolerance and plain cussedness. Together, they had given birth to countless progeny of misery, untruth, fraud, avarice, disquiet and the most damaging of them all; jealousy and hatred. Sheltered by this unseeing cover, some people started looting, killing and generally indulged in business, which is these days called, ‘political activities.’ Their residents could not see, and when you cannot, you depend on rumours, hearsay and misinformation. Each blamed the other for his ills. However there is one good thing to be said about the reign of the untruth; it has to end, no matter how strong and indestructible it may seem at one time. Such was the fate of the dense fog. Far above, the mighty Sun was relentlessly at work. It shot down infinite, scalding hot rays .At the end of each ray, was a curved hook. The valiant beams burned holes in the topmost layer of the fog and sunk their hooks into it. When enough number of such hooks had been secured, the mighty Sun yanked at the fog, much like a fisherman pulling in his net. A miracle happened. The fog lifted and disappeared. Almost instantly, brilliant sunshine swathed that city, warming the hearts and bodies of its people. Each one of us is a ray. The need is to hook our fingers.
Posted on: Sat, 01 Feb 2014 08:36:05 +0000
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