Let the dancing star be born


The green car was lost forever in between the real green. It was tiny and dysfunctional but to a breathing living little body that didn’t change a thing. Tears streamed down his face and his screams broke the calm one clear afternoon. I stopped folding laundry mid-way and looked out of the window.

“It was MINE,” he screamed at the top of his voice. The so-called culprit was no where in sight, but the little one still continued to look at a particular direction and continued to cry at the invisible, visible only to him. “I had got that car as a present and you threw it in the bushes. It was MINEEE…” He searched through the bushes. He looked small and that wasn’t because of my vantage point of more than 10 feet.

I think his smallness had something to do with grief over the loss… it made him look so tiny and vulnerable. But what is it about those tears that makes one cringe? I didn’t know him, but I wanted to go and hug him and perhaps even buy dozens of cars just to make up for the one he lost. Not just him, but even the ones I care about, the moment I see them crying, I want to shake heaven and hell and get them what they truly desire.

but darling, in the end, you’ve got to be your own hero, because everybody’s busy trying to save themselves

Human souls, I believe, were never conditioned to experience sadness. Caught in a body where they have limited control, they fight and try to shield themselves from the very thing that plagues our outer shell. I believe that’s why those tears spring up when we lose someone dear or when we watch a movie that has “such a terribly sad ending”.

Despite the pureness that the souls were meant to have, they have no choice but to bear the sacrilege that they never were told about. The Book says, “In this world, you will have trouble…” I believe the souls signed an agreement, the details of which were to be disclosed only when they first open their eyes on this earth.

But that’s not what really makes me sad, the constant hurt that my and million other souls have to endure. That loss is old and long gone out of sight. It’s this loss that one needs to worry about — the little one’s friend left him without trying to help him find his lost treasure and what about the words one hears so often, one utterd so callously, “people die every day, what’s the big deal”…

It’s not the little green that my soul wept over, but the loss of humanity that my insides have got so used to seeing in myself and others around me. When one fails to feel sorry for the loss that someone else has experienced, that’s when you can be sure that the soul inside of you has finally left you for good.



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