[Prose] Last testament
Today, I wish to give away all that I have.
She has been there through my ordeals and achievements. When my youth bade me goodbye, she held my hand for the first time. She nurtured my seeds, which have grown into mammoth trees in their own right. She efficiently managed home and hearth and while keeping me protected from the squall, let in the gentle breeze to sooth my senses.
To my wife, my constant companion, I wish to bequeath whatever semblance of peace I have been able to gather in my life.
For my progenies, are treasures buried at the end of the road they walk on. Through their journey, to carry on their shoulders as water bags, I bequeath struggle. Their thirst for fame and fortune can only be quenched from these bags, I know. Looking at the descending sun in its eye, with firm steps, I am sure, one day, unearth these treasures, they will.
Through their eyes I will see tomorrow’s world. Their innocence will reflect the honesty of my being. Their baby steps will follow the tell-tale signs I leave behind. Getting drenched in the first downpour of the season, playing marbles beside the village well, flying kites after the fury of monsoon, building sand-castles on the beach, stealing sugarcanes and tapioca from the fields, rubbing scratch inducing luecas leaves on skins, all this and lot more. For my grandchildren, I bequeath my childhood.
They changed my life, each one of them, in a different way. They brought into me their goodness and made me what I am today. I have witnessed their trials and tribulations from close quarters and I have bared my heart before them. I have been troubled by their tears and they have soothed my feathers. To never feel my dearth, to never crib about life, to always find opportunity in adversities, for my friends, I leave my laughter.
They reflect my persona. They are the only defining elements of the person I am. Some bought long back, moth eaten, and some smelling fresh, off the shelf. Some bound into ageless volumes and some dust-ridden forgotten to obscurity. Let my books be stacked away safely, so that the chronicler of my life, if I would ever have one, could come this way and read me, my life through what I read.
I am conscious that there would only be a handful who would acknowledge my bequest and that the rest would try to read between the lines and find non-existent meanings. Yet, in my full senses I declare that nothing that I own has been excluded in this my Will, my last testament.
Witnesses, none.
(445 words)
Vijay © 18th April, 2006
She has been there through my ordeals and achievements. When my youth bade me goodbye, she held my hand for the first time. She nurtured my seeds, which have grown into mammoth trees in their own right. She efficiently managed home and hearth and while keeping me protected from the squall, let in the gentle breeze to sooth my senses.
To my wife, my constant companion, I wish to bequeath whatever semblance of peace I have been able to gather in my life.
For my progenies, are treasures buried at the end of the road they walk on. Through their journey, to carry on their shoulders as water bags, I bequeath struggle. Their thirst for fame and fortune can only be quenched from these bags, I know. Looking at the descending sun in its eye, with firm steps, I am sure, one day, unearth these treasures, they will.
Through their eyes I will see tomorrow’s world. Their innocence will reflect the honesty of my being. Their baby steps will follow the tell-tale signs I leave behind. Getting drenched in the first downpour of the season, playing marbles beside the village well, flying kites after the fury of monsoon, building sand-castles on the beach, stealing sugarcanes and tapioca from the fields, rubbing scratch inducing luecas leaves on skins, all this and lot more. For my grandchildren, I bequeath my childhood.
They changed my life, each one of them, in a different way. They brought into me their goodness and made me what I am today. I have witnessed their trials and tribulations from close quarters and I have bared my heart before them. I have been troubled by their tears and they have soothed my feathers. To never feel my dearth, to never crib about life, to always find opportunity in adversities, for my friends, I leave my laughter.
They reflect my persona. They are the only defining elements of the person I am. Some bought long back, moth eaten, and some smelling fresh, off the shelf. Some bound into ageless volumes and some dust-ridden forgotten to obscurity. Let my books be stacked away safely, so that the chronicler of my life, if I would ever have one, could come this way and read me, my life through what I read.
I am conscious that there would only be a handful who would acknowledge my bequest and that the rest would try to read between the lines and find non-existent meanings. Yet, in my full senses I declare that nothing that I own has been excluded in this my Will, my last testament.
Witnesses, none.
(445 words)
Vijay © 18th April, 2006
posted by Mahfuuz | 7:09 AM
1 Comments:
true .. vijay.. very true... Just a beautiful piece of art thats painted with truth!!
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