A Writing Quill

I was shy, timid, and not a wise person. I had seen the tide carrying away my belongings. Still, I sat and wept doing nothing. I knew I had to do something but I didn’t. I was tired. I sat and wept from dawn to dusk and so from dusk to dawn. The stranger asked me one day. ‘Why are you crying?’ ‘The tide took away my possessions.’ ‘Girl, you don’t possess anything here. But you are a giver. Always.’ He was gone. How foolish was he? I thought. Another stranger asked me the same. But he replied, ‘How can you sit and cry when you have lost your things? Get it, girl. Run.’ He was gone. Should I run? Should I let it go? We all carry baggage—a suitcase of attachment, loyalty, love, and understanding. Phew!!! I was happy because it carried away the unnecessary anxieties and fears. But still, I cried. I realized I had lost the love and compassion that belonged to me. The stranger spoke again, inside my mind, ‘Give away.’ The other stranger interrupted, ‘Shut...

  ‘How beautiful a day is when friendship touches it’- Rumi I was thrilled to find myself admitted in a school much larger than my expectations; both in expanse and strength. I was elated and eager to join it soon. But much to my dismay, the first few weeks were unvaried and unstimulating. The same monotony engulfed my days. I would get up in the morning, dragged myself to catch the school bus, spent the day deeply immersed in studies and sports, returned back home; lazily and worn out. My parents would eagerly anticipate a fun filled day from me at the dinner time but would soon be disappointed with my cold and unexcited answers. Unable to judge my quandary, they would suggest me various means to make friendship. Sometimes, they would make up funny stories just to please my dull attitude. I was uninterested at those conjectures. Days passed. I was as uncomfortable as before; until one day, when she arrived. The class teacher introduced her to the entire class. She was plump ...