September 12, 2011
By mehul vithlani GOLD, Mwanza, Other
mehul vithlani GOLD, Mwanza, Other
17 articles 2 photos 8 comments

Swim in, creep close, squeeze through and listen to them…
The Red Ribbon wriggles, twirls and swirls in the on-going yet still air.
It drips notes of blissful knowledge on to the vast carpet of Mother Nature, who has laid herself open, exposed to the world beyond oblivious to its inhabitants,
Trees shadow the light of hope beneath, and the Ribbon,
It swings in close and embraces the bent, bold and brown Acacia, smartly observing…
Green Veins leap and curl out of those branches trickling shimmering waters down on to our bold yet fair carpet,
Thorns prickle out of those barks warning anyone that comes in its way,
Awkwardly, its brown arms spring out wistfully,
Roots creepily dig in for the bite.
The Ribbon echoes these notes of knowledge into the remembering ear,
It paints a vivid image reflecting it on to the big, bold beady eyes,
The taste loops round and kisses the rosy red lips,
The scent walks, jogs and runs into the nectar- filled nostrils,
It seductively tickles the light brown, dark and yet fair carpet layering over our bodies.
Meanwhile, on the other end, a voice will run from hedge to hedge, that is of the blue light.
The light directly splatters its shine onto the pathway: 9am, when it knows that the old man will be struggling to walk even half a mile with his unreal, wooden walking stick.
It wraps around the frozen- heat surrounding that child on the street- begging for knowledge that he is acquired to, not fame, money or even pride!
It waits to run on that field of the young and not yet mature crops.
It tackles speed, distance and even velocity as it uncovers the cloth of body over the soul of that quick, ruthless car,
The light bobbling an eye out at you when you stare for hours communicating live with friends at that big screen has bewitched minds of all the Littluns.
Magic, though by illusions, lightens up the atmosphere of the hall where all puppets seem to be controlled by their Master; The Magician. Magic’s secrets are never really revealed, but where’s the fun in that? Magic has to be absorbed, not to be understood, but as to cheer up our grumpy, enslaved souls barred behind the doors of the red blazing-hell.
Comedians shelter gloomy, heavenly, yet half- hearted smiles on the insatiate, innocent, yet sometimes devilish man’s faces.
The halo on top of him glistens at the glow of the blue light. They are as the children have known them to be since its creation, a woven- soul sweating in the desperation of working to help make life seem as smooth, straightforward and sexy as those newly polished pair of glasses.
Steps crafted at the rain- dance parties, under the presence of the blanched Moon staring with widely open eyes, are one of a kind. Each crafted step grooves the dancers’ minds in unity glowing under the bliss of their halos.
They say a fit body makes a fit mind: at every step the blue light jogs, tears of sweat trickle from its arms on to the ground where it eventually dries out with fun when it disappears in the thin atmosphere of the sun’s emitted heat…
The blue light walks the ramp with pride when it gets awarded for the best security, nearly fainting it bears the naked yet covered with honor, pride and justice award in its bear hands and holds it up as the cup glistens the hope, faith and trust that the audience carries of the blue light.
Huddled in one corner of the carpet are those yellow- bonded, yet separate souls,
Cheering, laughing, chattering, all they can manage to get a soft- wide smile on all of their faces.
7am, time to rise, but the sun seems to have stopped to witness such a scene:
Women cluster around the fire, Men bond both their eyelids drowsed in to deep sleep, Children serenely suck their thumbs throwing birds into ecstasy and driving mums astray.
Naivety of the youth springs joy out of the sunflower- like mothers when they dive deep down into the innocent eyes of their young…
The sun dips back into the magenta horizon slowly setting the light of hope off.
Day by day He grows at an alarming rate that in a split second from that play ground, He is in that gorgeous graduation gown with a head held high bearing a mortarboard on top of it. The tassel at the centre of the wondrous cap leaps out facing the ground with hopes as high and long as a piece of string can stretch up to.
Warm wreaths of happy tears faint out of the mother’s eye, the mother who has supported him until now and made him capable of standing on the ground that he is standing on at this very moment.
Heavy, dark yet glimmering Clouds cluster together in resentment not excitement, the dark blue sky has painted itself a mysterious black colour.
Finally the day most desired has knocked on their doorsteps;
Beats of vows are plucked at every nuptial round around the flames of life,
Loves ribbon swings around and bonds two divine souls in a relation that is eternal,
Birds peck blessings at every note they pitch,
Flowers fall, swaying from heaven as God’s gift,
Family and friends gather at this auspicious occasion to shine their love and blessings on this woven-soul.
Thunder rippling across the sky shots the Swan’s feeling, who was just decorating the lonely lake with its presence, emotionally the Swan has drowned into deep resentment:
His parents stood there sweeping the floor of the home after all that he had been given by his parents,
Those fulfilled hearts had been shattered at witnessing such a scene with their very own eyes:
The wife sat on the kingly chair, as if she ruled the home, sipping tea from her kingly mug, while the mother swept the floor of the home.
He at this time had drowned deeply into sleep relaxing both the mind and the body, while his father was mopping the dirty floor.
What trouble did his parents give him that they have to suffer all this at such an old age?
Nine months, his mom kept him sheltered while he was growing, 25 years into His life and whatever He desired He was gifted by His dad with lots of blessings.
Instead of getting all the love and all that money that was spent onto his upbringing, the parents get nothing but ignorance let alone even getting that soft- appreciative smile or even a hug that they do deserve.
However collectively, every new day, month or be it even a year, all are celebrated to the extreme point of satisfaction and enjoyment where each and every corner of the world has been filled with decors.
Though the Ribbon, Light and the Soul are three different entities, they all unite to craft such a wondrous, ecstatic, and beautiful utopia, MY UTOPIA!

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This article has 1 comment.

on Sep. 17 2011 at 5:45 pm
LoverOfSong PLATINUM, New Lenox, Illinois
45 articles 7 photos 18 comments

Favorite Quote:
"When words fail, music speaks." Hans Christian Anderson

this is.. long. i  couldnt read it all. but it seems very good.

Parkland Book

Parkland Speaks

Smith Summer