Hustle- bustle of the monotonous world had stealthily taken hold of the grim conscience. The days broke mechanically, The nights desended mechanically, Mechanical were all chores, Mechanical were all moves. The wheel of time moved with a dull but constant speed, Duties were performed in time, Responsibilities were accomplished in time. Everything was as if in super control and with in time, On surface Everything was so perfect and superbly fine. Almost for decades , as if the uproar the sound of sobs of soul was buried too deep in the earthly gorge ,too deep to reach even the soul itself. The saddened soul was yearning hard to liberate itself from the shackles that had crippled it for so long. The soul was in quest of itself, Uptill the dawn of the day when it went for a stroll with itself. For a while, it was deaf to the world, For a while , it was blind to the world. For a while, in decades it was just itself. For a while, after ag...