The Man by Krishnamurthi Swami

He was a self made man. Handsome in his youth. He was a hard worker. He toiled for the organisation and steadily rose in its ranks. Rich,contented and successful – satisfied,content and relaxed in what he believed in. He loved his wife and children. While the daughter was the apple , the son was the pillar of strength. The man had style, impeccable charm and mannerisms, and the charm led to flamboyance. Everybody around had respect for him and he was even admired by his detractors. Money did not mean much to him and there was always a solution for every problem. He was the tree with wide branches, welcoming all, with its shade. Then he died – flying in the air, carefree ,worriless and lighter.


The gushing winds, the swirling township complete the picture. The sun, the stars, moon being common to all religions. The temples, mosques and churches have all been left behind desperately seeking to know what lies ahead. An explosion of nuclear proportions fragmenting the universe. The colours of the rainbow merging into white. A fusion of light, sound and music, part of the stratosphere. I am not a satellite but the moon. A big white moon exploding in multicolour luminescence. The tiny part in the mammoth surroundings surges on. The ride is long, from the moon to the stars.

Another routine, dull day. The children had risen , done their ablutions and prayers, under the watchful eyes of the fierce looking and diligent supervisor. More was always a luxury. The pangs of hunger and thirst for more. No physical, financial and emotional security. The tiny ones in a cage far away from the bad world outside – sheltered, cocooned and malnourished – But today was dazzlingly different. the multicoloured van, the smartly dressed orderlies carrying dishes lovingly. The aroma of the food was something else. The children sat in anticipation . the food was laid out. Appetising, nourishing and satisfying. There was always a second helping. And then came the dessert, the loads of ice cream and fruits everywhere . The ultimate treat – contended, peaceful and happy. In the midst of all the merriment, the bell rang. Loud, raucous and conveying a message. A newly abandoned baby placed in the cradle outside. The children looked at each other in silence. The children sighed, one more had arrived. They all saw the photo of the man whose memory was being celebrated by his near and dear. They did not realise that he was a particle , racing towards the stars.

Author: KuddelMuddel

KuddelMuddel means an unstructured mess. From the mess, comes our great inspiration,great ideas and great conversation. KuddelMuddel is a platform for all genre of writers to showcase their Writing skills. Be it a story, a poem, a product review, a new start up idea ie- Simply anything you wanted to share with the world. KuddelMuddel is part of Butterfliez Advertising Services LLP, Bangalore. Lets KuddelMuddel!

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