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The broken vase


She loved flowers. She saw them as a bunch of smiles, an inspiration to live, untouched by worldly worries. A flower knows that it is going to wither away in finite time. But we cannot make out from its vibrant colors that it knows that. There lies its greatness. It teaches us to live today to the fullest. She simply loved flowers.

Is there a way to preserve the beauty of a flower? She kept on thinking and searching a way to do this impossible task. Then one day, a day which seemed special beginning with the way the first ray of sun struck the earth, she found a magic vase. Flowers kept in this vase will never wither.

She began keeping her favourite flowers in this magic vase. It turned out to be true. The vase preserved the beauty of the flowers. It seemed like a dream. No, it was not a dream. She lived those moments. The eversmiling scented flowers blooming in her own room on her bedside, from day to night. They gave her life a new vigour. She and the flowers became one and the same. The magical vase did it. She began believing in life which would never end. Was she right in doing so?

One day (no it did not happen in one single day!) the magic vase broke. She saw dead flowers strewn all over the place. Her smile left her face and flew away never to come back. However, it left a shadow on her face so that the face doesnt look odd with a void at the place it occupied. She tried to put the pieces of the vase together but did not succeed. Some pieces were so tiny that they could not be touched and picked. The vase was lost and with it the magic too. There wont be any flowers now. She kept pondering over this misfortune which struck her.

It was difficult to go back to that old life. Life in which flowers, her love, still withered and had finite life.

But life adapts to everything new, sooner or later.

She has taken enough lessons from the flowers. So what if they are no more around her. She remembers each of their lessons and moves ahead.

For inspiring her to live, she doesn't need to look at the smiling flowers anymore. They are in her thoughts, as bright as ever, full of life.

It would take some time before she can find her smile which flew away that day. But she knows it will happen one day.
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Anonymous said…
the broken vase, broken life… yet lessons of life, of hope, of smiling flowers, years ago, i’d written a similar poetry, i was standing in front of a beautiful flower, the walls barred outsiders from wandering into the garden, there were many flowers, but i was just looking at this particular one, the gardener was plucking morning flowers, and he was about to pluck the same flower now i was longing to possess, and a heart-wrenching cry suddenly crept out, the gardener stopped, looked at me, and said, “would you like to have this flower?” “yes, but please, let it remain there” the gardener said, “if you don’t take it, it’ll wither soon, this beauty will not last many days,” i said, “please” he agreed, and with time it withered soon, now the withered flower is with me, but it doesn’t know, it doesn’t know the pain of being squeezed between my diary pages, it doesn’t even know that these are called memories, that i let her live fully, she lived her life, and i am happy that she did…
28 November, 2007 21:25
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