The Lost Home

Once upon a time there were Guts and Glory. And there were Dream and Thought too. Together they all lived in a little house that survived on Hope and Vision because Money wasn't kind to them. Home had a heart for Money, but everyone else had a heart for Home. Today Home is happy, for Money is kind enough to him, but Guts, Glory, Dream, Thought, Hope and Vision are no where to be found. They're all missing. They vanished without a trail, and even Money with all its power and forms (Black and White), could not afford to help Home trace them back.

Their neighbour Time says, he had seen them going. One after another, silently in slow steps. It seemed as if they wanted to stay back and live it up to their names, but they were sad and disappointed. Although they left, but they were optimistic that Home would call them back. They had a belief that Home would not be able to live all alone with Money, and would definitely honour their decades of togetherness by calling them back. But Home betrayed them all, for he was happy in the company of Money. And they left, without leaving any trace. They offered no apologies and carried no differences, for they had accepted that their journey here was over and that they needed to find someone else like the old-Home. Time had seen this day coming, and wished them good luck in their journey ahead.

As they walked past and through innumerous Homes, looking for the one that could best accomodate them all, they wondered why their Home left them.

Guts: He was so full of vigor and confidence that he could do anything. I am still wondering how he started hesitating in life.

Glory: I made him taste his first victory infront of a hall-full of people. He had conquered the stage in his school, the game's field in his collge. And now wherever he participated, he returned empty-handed. He dissapointed me too.

Dream: When he was a child, he used to tell everyone that one day he would soar the skies and fly free in a Jet plane. He said it everyday, to every single person and today he remains struck in a traffic jam twice a day.

Thought: I still remember, for all his life he was so thoughtful. He always had a plan, something to think about. He wanted to do so much, but suddenly he became confused and dumb. He went silent, and his mental calculations ceased, as if he was paralysed. He could think of nothing more than his day's routine. He was struck.

Hope: But for the worst that ever happened, he forgot me too. Never in the past had he ever missed to call upon me when he was confused or struck. He would cling on to my finger and sail through the hard times. But for the past many years, he not for once summoned me. And I felt so alone there.

Vision: True that! But, even here, for as far as you tell I had a feeling that he would bounce back, for he was very clear with what he wanted to do in life. I knew his plans, his high aspirations and his road-maps, and all these years I had been waiting for him to stand-up again. It breaks me badly as I take each step away from him. Yet if he calls me someday, I'll be there for him.

Guts: Me too, I would love to see him do another feud and sing to some random girl.

Glory: I would help him win that lady if he would wish to seek my help.

Dream: I wish someday he looks up at the sky when he's struck in a jam and recall where he had wanted to be. If only he calls back, I'd take him there.

Thought: And I would clear his mind of all confusions, if he starts to think for what he once wanted to be.

Hope:  This time if he would cling to my finger, I'll grab his hand and steer him through.

"Papa! Everyday we're struck in this jam, when I grow up I'll become a pilot and drop you to office in my plane."

....and there they found their new HOME.

A Conversation with God

X:: Are you there?
Y:: Yes I am.

X:: What does it feel like being there?
Y:: Even if I tell, you won't understand.

X:: Okay! So, tell me how's the weather there?
Y:: It's 350 degrees Heavenlious.

X:: What's Heavenlious?
Y:: Leave it, you won't understand.

X:: How many degrees of Celsius is your one degree of Heavenlious?
Y:: It's beyond your calculatuons, skip it.

X:: Why do you keep saying that I won't understand? I am 26, turning 27 next week, I have crossed two oceans, walked across three continents and visited seventeen countries; probably visiting another next year. I have had six girlfriends and two marriages and I have degrees in arts, science and medical. I am a doctor, and a psychologist, a teacher and a public speaker, I am young and receptive to every new idea. What makes you believe I won't understand you?
Y:: Ah! Let it be son. You seem too confused.

X:: No I am not. I have very definite goals in life, I am working for them and I see them getting accomplished.
Y:: In that case, I see, you're bewildered.

X:: Working on a straight path, doing what many can't do, and to have a reason to live, how do you call it bewilderedness?
Y:: Perplexed then.

X:: Oh my dear God! Do you not know how many people live in this world? And how many of them do know what are they living for? Not some but many are confused between pleasures and money, even more between austerity and divinity, and the rest alive but only sleeping. I out of them, know the reasons. I know it why.
Y:: Because you're a slave.

X:: I am a slave? No way! They are. They're the slaves of time. The slaves of money and poverty. Of greed and hunger. I, atleast, am above them all.
Y:: Then you're a wise slave.

X:: What are wise slaves?
Y:: To make you understand, I'd say those who would plan, work and then come to heaven.

X:: I do not dream of your heavens, for heaven means death and death means the end of this life. I am by all means very happy living this life.
Y:: That's because you're accustomed to being a slave.

X:: I am accustomed to living with my routines. And my routines are my alone. I am an entrepreneur and I am no slave. I have desires, that all humans have and I see to it, that I cross my deadlines and stikethrough my to-dos. I am organised on my own, and accustomed to my habits. Each day I wake up to win the day, and sleep with a sense of accomplishment. I work twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week. I am no slave, I am a leader.
Y:: If not a slave, then you're a monotonous robot.

X:: Wait a moment there. I had thought that talking to you would be so enlightening. I had considered that it would be a phase of ultimate learning and recollection, a moment that would stretch to eternity and bring the stars pouring down upon the two of us. I had thought of this moment to be gentle and soothing, but it only seems to be highly criticising.
Y:: Isn't that all true? Did anyone ever care to tell you that?

X:: No, no one ever told me that. And even as you speak I am only forced to take it. I might over here only agree as a submission to your prominance and entirely disagree to every other reason.
Y:: It is because you are non receptive to anything that comes your way. You live in a shell like a snail does, and pull back in whenever something touches you. You have other snails around you who are too busy sensing things around them and least bothered about you. But your shell is so far from the world that you mistaken it as an oyster, and think that you are a pearl delicately placed inside it.

X:: Umm.... Yes, I believe you are right. All these years I have been living in a shell. I have left my friends and family behind. I have cared to know little about my wife and kids. I guess it is all right, as you have said it. I don't understand. I am confused with my logics and wrong with my calculations. I am perhaps bewildered with my goals and perplexed with my deadlines. I am little of a leader and only more of a slave. You say it right, I am so habitual of all of it, that I have become a robot. A robot hiding in his shell, and surrendering to the walls of his own mastery. I am, yes you say it right, a snail pretending to be a pearl.
Y:: No, but I think YOU ARE PERFECT.