Light Of A Selfless Bird!

    Since years, it was only a few of the fewest times that he had reached out of his own home, he had not become a Hermit of his house, in fact he had become a Hermit of his small room on the upper floor. This tiny room was his world; he woke up every day by the touch of his beloved Sun peeping from the window. He had dreamt of an exquisite world staring at the unpainted walls and the roof. He had turned the pages of the same book innumerable times to leave it torn. He had nattered his heart out looking at the person in the picture nailed on the wall. Piling it all: the most strenuous and harsh moments of his existence were spent in this room. But to be staggered, he loved the room he stayed in; he wanted the room to witness the very last flash of his life because beyond it was a world of nastiness, brutality and disgust.

    He knew it was his last day in his little world as he went to bed. He closed his eyes with great strength to realize that he had become very weak to gather his strength now. He couldn’t seal his eyes for even a tick of the clock. He had become restless. He spent his whole night envisaging the nightmare he was about to enter the following day. Possessing an injured soul, a bulky heart, and rolling tears down from the old eyes he counted each minute of the night. It was indeed the hardest span of his life. The dark of the night was gradually engulfed by the light of the morning Sun but it was the dark engulfing the light within him. He dressed himself up in an old blue shirt and a black pant with the shivering hands; he combed his white hair with the aid of the broken mirror; his wrinkled skin spoke a ton of his sensations. He took the nailed picture on the wall in his hands and voiced “Dear our time here is over... From now we will be hurled out of our own nest which we had erected with love! But am not gonna stop anyone as I never intend to be an obstacle for them. I know you have never left me and you never will; Thank you for all the warmth and might that you have poured in me. Love you, my Love ”. He wept as he pressed in the picture in his ragged bag. He then waited for the knock on his door, to see his son enter and say “Let us leave”. He smiled with a fake mask just to see his son relieved.

    His son wasn't sad and gloomy but was indeed relieved to push his own father out of his house. He was comforted as his own creator would be sent away. He was glad to thrust his own blood towards sorrow. Yes he was calmed to send his Father, his guardian to an Old-age Home. But his father never complained. Instead he walked out of his house with two grand assets- a false grin on his face and the picture of his wife in his bag.