DYING FANTASIES

Twilight has been a fascinating part for me since childhood. I used to run past the doors into the garden to watch the soft flowing light in the sky. The faint ruddy sky with a tinge of orange glow pacified my racing heart.

Today, I repeated my daily routine. I slowly walked into the garden area beautified with the lovely flowers. The scent of roses was scattered everywhere while pansies flaunted their beauty in the corner. The marigold with its thick and lush foliage seemed really pretty and the pink petunias made a lovely fence.

I sat down on the wooden chair to acknowledge the beauty of the sky and welcome the tiny littered stars.

Relaxing back in the chair, I recalled my childhood days when I would hop from one place to another and smell the lovely flowers. I used to jump and dance. I loved staying in the garden for hours and used to watch the plants growing. I remember sowing mango seed with my mother and the seed has grown up into a big lovely tree under whose shade I am sitting today. Those lovely childhood memories brought a broad smile on my face. They had filled that childhood vigor and zeal in me. I felt like to hop and dance. It seemed as if I was young again. This everyday routine made me feel youthful and active.

But soon, my joint pains made me realize that I was no more in the springtime of my life. They rather beckoned me telling that I had entered the dusk phase of my life. They told me that the youth and child inside me is getting faint and rather suggested me to welcome the old age.

The blooming flowers prompted me to feel the youth in me but the wrinkled hands showed me my reality. The swift butterflies made me feel like a child wanting to hop but my aching bones told me to accept the aging years. The tall plants made me sense the strength in me but the hunched shoulders gave me the signs of aging. The green leaves gave me a sensation of freshness and youthfulness but my pale face reminded me of the winter phase of my life.

The realities seemed really harsh to accept. Just as it gets cold with the arrival of night, so is the same cold in this truth.

However, the arrival of tiny shimmering stars in the sky increased its beauty manifold and this again pacified my pounding heart with the thought that beauty lies in every phase of life. The winter has its own charm and so has the old age. Death is as beautiful as life.

Thus, I accepted my truth with ease and retired to rest.