Essays of Variety

Words from a Snowman

I am made of snow, pure white snow. The wintry wind bites every mortal being, but I am not shaken at all. Yes, it is funny indeed to know that I never catch a cold. Children decorate me by giving my nose made of a carrot, my eyes made of dark beads, etc. They make snowballs; they pile them up one upon the other; they give it a shape; finally, I receive my birth in this way of mirth and cheer. They also provide me with a scarf, most of the times red in colour. They use buttons also to make my snowy garments appear attractive. It makes me feel so happy to be a part of the children’s playtime. They enjoy my round belly by patting on it. I witness their rides on the sledges. What peace indeed! I feel so calm and amazed to behold the little children run around me in a circle, singing, playing, laughing, merrymaking, and spreading their innocence. Unfortunately, as and when it begins to be warm, a little warm, I get sure that I am at the point of death. That is to say, my body begins to melt in the warmth. Nonetheless, I can never ever forget the sweet memories that I receive during my life.

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The Voice of a Mango

Being one of the juiciest fruits in the world, I consider myself to be lucky enough to win the hearts of everyone whoever has tasted me. It is indeed gratifying to know that I am often called to be the ‘King of all fruits’ in India/Bharat specifically. I lose every reason in such amazement. I can be of various types, not only in my appearance but also in my sweetness and taste, and my juiciness. Each and every person does enjoy me to his heart’s content. When it is blisteringly hot in summer, I try to cool down the inner restlessness of the people in no time with my soothing smell. Of course, right then, I am used in my green or young state. Most interestingly, I intoxicate the entire surrounding area with my sweet and alluring smell. I am a fruit of summer; however, the residents in my area keep on thinking about me almost all through the year. People wait for the next summer to come for the sake of relishing my great smell as well as my unique taste. I feel glad indeed, thinking that I, too, am a reason for people’s smile. People have forgotten to smile these days. Hence, it makes me feel blessed to play that role.

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Friday, October 27, 2023

Strong Words from a Pen

People call me a writing instrument, but I call myself a living power. As and when I get utilised by the poets, the novelists, the essayists, and so on and so forth, my heart leaps up in utmost satisfaction, happiness and self-dignity. It feels really gratifying to think that I am the reason of the act of expressing the inevitable truths of human life. The education system in this entire world depends on me a lot. I am associated in giving birth to thousands of brainchildren. That is to say, I pride myself on this notion of creation. Still, how can I overlook the cons or the injustice in this society, in which I am used as well? In spite of all such positive aspects, I must admit, I must say that I don’t want to be, though I have to be used by the Judge in a court. Indeed, I never ever do desire, I never ever do even think in any of my wildest dreams and my nightmares that the Judge will use me in giving capital punishment to the convict. Moreover, such acts happen frequently. I cannot stay sane; I lose my mind thinking of the ill effects derived from me. My only question is—“Is a convict a born criminal or a product of the society, who is sentenced to death?”

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A Few Words from a Bird

I twitter, I chirp and I sing to welcome every new morning. I add sweetness to the entire atmosphere when it is dawn. I fly in the sky. The sky is sometimes blue, sometimes cloudy, sometimes golden and sometimes gloomy. However, I have to stay happy always to add musical effect to the new day in order to keep the day free from blemish. Of late, people usually gaze at the flying aeroplanes and the helicopters, but most of them usually find almost no time even to look at me. Still, I carry on singing with a sorrowful and gloomy heart sometimes. The poachers are always ready to hunt me, to kill my all and to ruin my family. They laugh a lot; yes, they treat me cruelly in full swing. Still, I need to say that I, too, have my own life, my own family, my own language, my own world and my own future. Many writers used my quills as their pens in the bygone days. It makes my cup of gladness overflow through and through. I try to live optimistically always. Hence, I try to keep in my mind that a great number of poets, after all, have dignified me in their creative pieces. I feel glad indeed to be the reason of their smile, of their happiness and of their state of being spellbound, captivated and motivated.

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