THE MIRACLE CHILD !!

There was boy in a very small town with very little facilities. The meekest of all, lean and thin ,ugly and introvert. He had poor friends to live with. He use to be scolded for his handwriting where as his dad had a very good handwriting. He could not study well and so was always hauled over the coals. As time passed his mom and dad realised that he is also shy and is always afraid to face the world. The sole rest to his slaughtered soul was his family. In a very large campus his father owned he use to feed his lunch to stray dogs and puppies. The child believed that a day will come when he will rise beyond all this pain and agony and the world will cherish and talk to him. His humiliated parents will be there to take pride of what their son has achieved. Inspired by a thought so untainted and divine he started with determination.

When he was in tenth standard destiny hit him harder. His father was shot by an assassin. By gods grace he managed to survive but unfortunately engulfed by acute paraplegia and was bed ridden. The person can’t walk or even talk properly and suffers enormous pain in thighs. The sixteen year old kid was shouldered by responsibilities and had to leave school for a year .when other kids use to go to school and listen to teachers, this boy use to sit next to his dad listen to the moans and cries. Others prepared for exams on their study table, this boy use to sit on wooden stool and attend to his father’s ailment and read books.
But the juvenile determination was no longer a sapling, it had routed like a tree। This time the lad aimed high. He dared to dream. The miracle happened and the child got better than those sitting in the study room. The juvenile determination grew with accelerating pace and stood firm. Hard work started to pay and he started to fetch excellent marks। With no guidance from teachers and studying in one of the modest schools he managed a good command over a couple of languages। But his parents were not there to admire him.

Full of enthusiasm the boy filed for the best school of his country. When he cleared all interviews and tests his parents explained the economical crunch and denied. The hopeful child begged for help from his relatives but like always was thrown away.He became a tutor and went to school. The child was a big lad now and his determination was stronger than before. The miracle returned back. This time the boy came up with flying colours and got admission in a decent college. Right from the admission to his survival in the big city he managed on his own. He saw other coming up with their parents to this new world and turned melancholy. He dreamt of his parents standing behind. The determination is still growing with an accelerating pace but a void has been created inside. Right now he has won three consecutive years prizes for best handwriting from Scottish society for calligraphy but his dad still don’t talk to him, the reason is different now, he is ill.
So where should he walk? What is his fault? Why has the destiny bestowed so much of darkness to his adjacent? I sometimes meet this kid. He lives very nearby some where close to my soul and always wants to ask “dad now will you talk to me?” can you answer him?
he is the miracle child!!

RATIONALE!!

I am an alien to this very lucrative world of blogs which has so much to offer. But my reason for being here is exuberance, exuberance herself, exuberance to write and to let my wild and unchannelised sentiments flow. There are times when i want to pen down my strong perceptions about certain things but i feel tactless about it or maybe i am scared. More than often I hear voices within me, voices producing different vibes, sometimes they energise me ,sometimes they tend to suck all my enthusiasm, sometimes they even provoke me for an action i should have taken on the spot and grip me with strong emotions say anger or joy something not extraordinary.
In fact I am not here to write about extraordinary things in an extraordinary way because I am not capable of, but I am going to try to write about ordinary things in a very ordinary way. Going back to what I wanted to convey, I want to express those voices through my pen, even though they seem to be volatile .I don’t know why am I doing this ,maybe because I have the intuition that this is going to give me immense pleasure and contentment. After a short while if I fail to continue I will erode because I will let my spirit decay. And for sure I can’t promise that I will keep writing forever. But if I don’t give it a try I might later regret for not giving it a try and let me soul be free for a while .I am not here to gang up and throw opinions on everything I feel like but I am here to express the inexplicable within me. So may I try and proceed??