The seeds of wants were lying somewhere unknown, waiting for me to unearth them. I believe I was told of these seeds very faintly just as the time was conspiring my birth. I can imagine how tedious a job it must be to create beautifully complex and extraordinary lives, package them up there and parcel them to the praying owners. Keeping the whereabouts of these fresh, untouched seeds during the Godly execution must have been the first challenge. I had lost track of them, unwillingly so…
Growing up was easy with such humble parents, innocently unaware of the seed saga. They laughed when I laughed, cried when I cried… gave me space to nurture the seeds they knew of but the slightest idea of knowing my seeds exist somewhere was enough to blatantly say No to cultivate theirs. Time travelled at jet speed and their spongy emotions began to lay under my feet to find those seeds. But for them, I was their seed.
My seeds were sown in the very first co-curricular class in school and they germinated till the last stage performance in
my college. How and when? Answer was more baffling. He was watering and feeding it with passion and will, this time around as a gardener. My seeds were now slowly becoming the saplings of my dreams…
Then arrived “facing the real world” moment, they say, and this time, ‘they’ were not wrong. I jumped on to the chariot, galloping towards the far-sighted field of my saplings. I wanted to run in between them, dance my dance, pluck one or two and may be just lie smelling the soil of my imagination beneath. Bizarre as my over-enthusiasm may have seemed or for the sake of a greener future, He looked to have stopped nurturing the saplings, built a fence and put a ‘Seasonal entry’ board. There I found myself engulfed in the mixed emotions, questions fighting with one another to prevail.
Years passed by and I waited for the board to come down. The lost and found seeds were by now had become enriched plants. I could see them restlessly from outside, still breathing proudly over toil, honesty and hard work and the one ingredient that always went unnoticed all these days, my parents’ seeds. He had them safe, thankfully.
I had accepted the gardener’s terms eventually, often visited to gaze at the plants, sit beside them for hours, shed a tear, give a smile and come back. For now, I knew I had to return to look after my parents’ field which, without any water or care, not even that many seeds, was flourishing as ever. I knew, sometimes told, what had gone missing and gradually found and conquered it.
As I think of my saplings today, I know they now have advanced to the life of a plant. I am content, happy and blessed to believe they have grown to be prettier and purer day by day. The selfless dose of additional seeds has made their roots stronger. I know some day the fence will no longer stay, “Gifted to…” the board will say… and some day, I will closely watch my jittery footsteps leading me to smell the flowers of my plant…
…who says I was born alone…my seeds, my dreams were born with me.
What do you think?