Love to be felt, not learnt
Anis Fatema :
he melody began in the most sophisticated period of century. The stars craved for a new era while the birds were about to sing the welcome note. The rainbow took the shape of a delicate piece of fiction and the tiny butterfly was trying her best to snatch herself out of her motherâ€™s lap. The fairy with wide yellow wings smiled and the mother let her leave. The tiny butterfly finally discovered herself in the midst of the oldest, the wisest and of course the noblest appearance of the golden cloud. She called him, â€œMy Goldy grandpa.â€
Old Goldy laughed loudly. The loudness created waves in the sky. And the playground was formed for the bright princess. Old Goldy changed his shape again and again. Sometimes the swing, up and down, sometimes the jumping bed, bloop bloop. The tiny butterfly felt herself happy, then happier and gradually the happiest. But the happiest moments were not everlasting.
The bell rang, â€œTime to see yourself in the mirror sweetheart,â€ called the fairy mother. Tiny butterfly stood beside the deep mirror which actually was a pool of tears and wondered, â€œWow, look at those colorful curtains on my back, theyâ€™re just like golden harvest and what a flawless face!â€ The tiny princess was not tiny anymore. She was in full bloom. She was so many days old. But alas! Her heart was not beating. She whispered, â€œWho has the desire to love me?â€ Thousands of voices answered in positive but the tricky earth, bearing quicksand in the bottom his heart did not reply. Instead he held the butterfly in its arms and proudly announced. â€œYou must have the desire to love me.â€ The butterfly remained speechless.
Old Goldy was concerned. He kissed the dearest corner of his heart and asked, "Do you love him?" The innocent creature answered, '''Yes, Goldy, I have got the lesson of love from him." Goldy had so many pairs of eyes. The visible one gave a blank look to the princess and the rest of the pairs were filled with dews. The storm broke down in Goldyâ€™s mind, â€œLove is a matter to be felt, not to be learnt.â€
The butterfly started dancing on the earth. She danced and danced. Her feet started to bleed. But she kept on dancing for the sake of love. Love that could not touch his soul, love that could not make her heart beat. Then one day it happened. The butterfly was in deep sleep. She had a dream of a pair of little angels. They were playing around her. Suddenly they disappeared. The butterfly woke up and discovered herself between two precious pearls. Undoubtedly they were the most desirable pieces of hearts. Butterflies of all ages desired them to get but she herself was the fortunate one to deserve them. Once again she stood beside the mirror on earth which was actually a pool of hope. With the passing decade of time her fairness had been faded away and she was almost dead. But again she took birth with those precious pearls.
Happily she took a flight to the sky holding the pearls in her chest but on the way she was stopped. What was that? A heartrending wind blew. Against the wind she faught. She struggled but at last she had to surrender. Her heart started to beat giving birth to enormous pain. â€œWas it a face or a series of sun rays? Or should I call it a shadow of Old Goldy?â€ Angrily she wanted to know, â€œWho are you, how dare you touch my heart, how dare you make me feel?â€
But the proud soul did not care it. It continued its journey followed by the crazy butterfly. After a short episode of thundering the thirsty princess could block his way. And then she asked, â€œWho are you?â€ He smiled and threw his eyesight on her. She felt herself scattered as his eyes were indulged into question marks. He whispered, â€œI am the escapist.â€ By this time the butterfly was at a loss. She asked, â€œWhy did you teach me to escape, in spite of knowing my limitations?â€ He replied, â€œOh really. Did I do so? Believe me. It was not my intention. What is the use of showing you the way which was supposed to be chosen by you before a long period of time? Time is the true owner of everything. Both you and me belong to the timeless spheres of moments.â€