THE STORY OF STORIES

 Its been a week she was trying to write a story . Everyday she sits with her writing amenities , but her paper always seems the same , like the very beginning of the week . Everyday she found new space to write from , sometimes at her balcony , sometime at her veranda , sometimes at her bedroom and even sometimes at her kitchen . In real sense it wasn't because she doesn't get ideas . Its because she gets a lot of ideas and the uncertainty of these ideas made her blank . One day as usual she sat with her job to write , but this time she was in her store room . God knows what an author can get from a storeroom to write . She kept staring at different corners believing that an Aladdin is going to explain her story from some corner of the room . From those old book boxes to unused utensils she kept on searching for ideas . Finally after a deep archaeological research she found an old box . She remembered that she used to keep her old memories of Hitherto from her toddler age in it . Her old school bags , autographs , books , old fountain pen and so on was there in it . She knew that nothing of it could be made used for her purpose . But still anxiety had urged her to open the box . What next happened , had ceased her consciousness to some kind of fascinating epic.

she opened the box . And by the very next moment she saw herself drowning into a cyclic magical water . She got stacked in a spiral that shrinks and shrinks and shrinks her world . She screamed hard so that someone could hear her . But no one was able to . She made an effort to reach the top but felt like her hands are too small in length . She tried hard to stab it but all the splashes made her realise she shouldn't had opened the box . She was spinning herself until it get terminated . And By the end she fell unconscious like a little gal sleeping in the lap of gigantic mama water . Latterly , At the sound of birds she awoke with her wide eyes slightly opening up . All she could see was water , and water , and lot more water everywhere around her . She stood up and saw her in the middle of a stock-still silent ocean with no waves , with no depth and with endless sea blues making a sort of highly eccentric one . " Where am I , why am I here , what was in the box , am i dead , how can i go back " she was intrusively concerned about her whereabouts . She pissed at her for that stupidest of stupid thing she had done . Her heart was stacked with Himalayan's of question with void answers . Finally , after spending a very lengthy awaken Nap , she restored her courage to get out from that undiscovered shit . She ran and ran and ran but nothing of it ends in a positive way . She got to stand at the same position where she stood at the very beginning . She bursted out in tears.But she heard someone from her own self saying to " never surrender " . That gave her strength to find a way out.After a very lengthy marathon she finally found an indifferently different land .

By the time when she moved close to get a magnifiable picture of the land She saw that the sky was getting darker . And she could see that the stars were twinkling upon her wishing to say something . she found a land That seems nothing as unusual as the sea . It looked like an odd duck of some comic story , With a flat invasive under-grown grasses of meadow everywhere around . But the curious thing was , that No kind of animals , trees , birds and humans were found there . It was just she , and the greens around , with a little sort of fear and doubt , Thoughts of self oppressed evil kept spinning around her head . For a minute she stopped at a shadow sitting under a huge tree that touched the sky . " My exit time had come " she said herself and ran towards it.she saw a man with White pajamas and kurta staring at the stars in that deep dark . " NANA " her eyes got smudged with tears when she saw him . " so , does that mean I too am dead " ? Nana was her close friend from childhood . He was always her best companion and her all time real storyteller too . Everyday he took her in his lap and explained puny stories of raja's and rani's with exposures and actions . Maybe that was the reason for her to be an inescapable Hooman from words and phrases and sentences and stories . But after his death she felt broken without him . Every time when she sat to write she get confused and leave those pages to remain the same as of the first was . she ran towards him for a hug .

 " Nana " she ran and hugged him tightly and said " why are you kind of sitting here ? come lets go to home . You will never understand , how much I suffered in your absence . I was all alone in our home with sacks and sacks of puzzlement . You know that I am an inquisitor , but I don't have anyone who could possibly solve my problems . Low spiritedly she told him " I had been sitting to write something till this morning , but I end up leaving the pages void just as my brain is , even though it is sacked with whirls and whirls of adversities . The thing is I will sit to write some sort of story that comes in my brain , but I wont be able to write it . And ask me why , because at that time , another theme of an ending of a story will ran into my head saying like ' hey this is a better one ' and when I do the same , another , and another and it repeats for like trillions of time . " Stories are getting complicated for me nana and it is not as simple as it was.It was just easy for me to listen from you . And i should say , you are an excellent story teller and without you , i am not even a listener and i cant be able to , in your absence . so come , let me take you . She pleaded him to go back with her . After a very deep inner inspection her nana replied with a wide smile " I know the complications you are facing now . Let me tell you a story first . Its been too long since I had told you one isn't it ? " .

 Once upon a time there was a king who loved listening stories . So everyday he welcomed masters of storytellers from different parts of the world to narrate At least one variety of stories to him . This had become a part of his daily habitual routines . So one day he tried an extremely freaking thing . He sat to write a story . Isn't he a freak? Exactly he is . How can someone write with those stories he heard . He wrote one sentence then two but after a little minute of daydreaming he end up striking it and started writing another story with one sentence and then two and again striking . He repeated this process until he got mad at himself and tear down those pages into ashes . He does this same thing for about one week and by the end he decided to meet a lady Whitch of his kingdom to help him out for a solution . The whitch was very happy to see him . He explained his problem and said " hey whitch , make me the best storyteller of the world . Do some magic and make me write the best stories . I shall be the only best story writer of the world . " She curiously thought for a bit and said " but my lord I don't have the secret ingredient to make the magic " . With pride he replied " I will get it for you , from wherever it is but I must get it done as early as possible " . With a Very wide smile the whitch explained " my lord the secret ingredient is in you . It is your heart . Every storyteller from whom you ever heard stories had been telling it from their heart and a writer always writes with heart not with brain . The difference in writing with heart and a brain is the contentment , the pleasure , and the satisfaction . You get it only when you feel those you writes . Its true that thoughts are from your brain but words should come from your heart . Forget the world , forget the people , and do forget yourself . You just need your heart to write . At first you need to feel what you write or write what you had felt " . And By the end of the story the king was known for his writing of 10 best novels with splendid heart wrenching stories .

 So tell me how was it . How was the story . She was listening to his stories with a crossed legs and her elephant mouth and wide eyes , opened . Nana said " So , you get the point . Stories are not something that you write because of an envy upon someone . It should come from your heart and write with atmost feeling , so could the readers can feel it the same . And you know why ? because we are humans , and all we had in common is feelings , that are mostly explained in a metopher sense . And my lil gal , I could promise you one thing , that you will become an author one day . " " And how comes you know that nana " surprisingly she inquired . " only a person with an intense emotion to listen a story can be an emotionate writer " . And you were an excellent listener my love .

 Hey its already six . you asked me to woke you up , my bache !. Its too late . See the time , its already eight . Amma burbled and pulled out my blanket and woke me up . This Amma be na !! " Where is he , where is nana " .I suspected . " Who is she and who is this nana " Amma asked with a doubt . So that was a dream . I wonder what kind of a dream was it but whatever , that ended up leaving me one last note . " everyone can be a listener and a reader but not the whole can be a writer . And stories are made by the writers , from those enormous storyteller's kingdom alone " .

                                                        HOPING FOR A GOOD DAY