Read #1 book on Hinduism and enhance your understanding of ancient Indian history.
Read #1 book on Hinduism and enhance your understanding of ancient Indian history.

Kinjal Arun

Children Stories Drama Fantasy


3.3  

Kinjal Arun

Children Stories Drama Fantasy


The talking house

The talking house

3 mins 141 3 mins 141


I had seen better days. Now I stood all bent and crooked. My walls stand dilapidated and windows are broken down. The only visitors that come over now are the bunch of boisterous monkeys or some lone stray dog. Desolateness was written all over me. About half a century back I had people flocking to admire my beauty. Servants were waiting upon me. A tiny bit of dust and there would be an army of damsels dusting me with feathers. I was as pampered and spoilt as a delicate Princess. I was the abode of Queen Annapoorneswari. During her days, nobody went hungry from me. I had food and shelter for all those who came knocking at me. My arms were wide open in a motherly embrace. But then it all changed on that fateful, stormy night. 


A group of masked men came knocking. They were drenched in rain. Without a second thought, I welcomed and warmed them. My fireplace kept them warm and my food warmed their souls. Little did I realise that this was the last time food was cooked on my hearth. After eating their fill, they pulled down the ornate curtains adorning my walls. They howled and set everything to fire. They locked my queen in her chamber and set it on fire. I was burning. My self and my soul were scarred. The Queen's wrath knew no bounds. As she was breathing her last, she cursed, “this place shall never prosper. You and your descendants shall perish with no food”. I shuddered to even think of the consequences of those words. Even as I was burning, my heart could not help but reach out to those poor souls that had got entwined in this game of fate. 



As time passed, I lost my charm. People started calling me cursed. They would stay away from me. I was already charred. Over time, I was shattered beyond recognition. Here I was standing basking in all my past glory when a group of people walked in. They called themselves environmentalists. They knocked on my walls and tapped on my floors. They scrapped my walls and admired my beauty which lay hidden behind a layer of dust, grime and soot. Soon a bigger group of people came over. They started attending to every nook and crevice of my body. I was given a makeover. Though my complexion had lost the bounce of youth, I had aged like fine wine. I was back to my glorious days. I got a newer layer of rouge and powder. My roof was repaired and my windows reflected the green gardens. My flooring was scrubbed squeaky clean. I was declared as a heritage site. Once again people form queues to admire my beauty and I have servants waiting upon me. The only thing that changed is that I do not have food or warmth to offer to my visitors. I believe it is going to take me some time before I start trusting mankind again.


Yours sincerely,

Khana Mahal,

Palace of her Majesty,

Queen Annapoorneswari .



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