Skip to main content

Lamb's Query

"Oh! Shepherd my lord
Where are you heading me in this ferocious storm?",
 The Little lamb's eyes had the sturdy glitter even during the visible upheaval around.
It was all the outcome of the unflinching faith that he bore in his tiny heart that
whatever may happen the robust arms of the Shepherd will as usual prove his sheath.
Since the little one was born those arms had  constantly guarded him from the strong winds and hounds.
As long as, he was held high by his vigorous Shepherd the lamb was blindfolded by a staunch trust that all pieces would fall in their respective places.
The Little one wasn't  worldly wise to fathom the plain fact that one outgrows the cradle be it of hands or wood.
The time was ripe when the Great Shepherd had to be ready to handle the newborn the other little lamb.
Since, he has others in queue as well to be fathered.
Before he could apprehend 
the Little lamb for the first time touched the uneven surface of the chosen wilderness, 
Still the faith in the hand that had just let him down was unfaltering and sound.
He looked up in dismay, 
But the good old Shepherd was already on His way.
The Little lamb for a while tried to follow the vanishing silhouette behind,
But soon he tripped and shrilly cried in vain,
he had no anticipation that what awaited him was the greatest pain.
The comfort zone,
his safe heaven was just a mirage, 
The real life was going to be for him for sure a strife in the wild,
Since the wilderness had hidden challenges, 
The grass of course was fresh and green
But wolves were the undisputed rulers of the deadly wilderness. 
The only two visible outlets were either to submit to the voracious wolves,
or to hide his skin behind the savage growth.
The third one the invisible one was the most difficult to tread upon.
It was to brave the outcome and fight out with his fate,
by shunning his basic soft ways.
The Little lamb had still the unanswered query if he had to be left aloof to scuffle why so far he was taken care of?
Little one had the little knowledge that he couldn't stay little forever.
He had to grow and grapple ,
Plummet and ascend,
and the principle of the wild, ' Survival of the fittest' he had to comprehend,
and that only then the salvation could be hauled in that cruel wilderness. 















Comments

Post a Comment

Do leave your comments

Popular posts from this blog

Working Mom

  The title of this write-up may make no sense and might seem whimsical to some. Yet, I couldn't think of any other, though I did try to run the horses of my mind for hours to replace it with a better one. Anyhow, its content, I hope, is worth reading. This may sound contrary to me,a language teacher who always guided  pupils to choose eye-catching and gripping titles for their work. Yesterday, a phone call from my twenty-one-year-old daughter led to a discussion  about the parents’ rights over children. I, being a mother, feel that a mother—being the carrier of her baby in the womb for nine long months and then bringing the baby into this world with unimaginable pain has rights to advocate. I told her about how difficult it is for a mother to stay away from her children, especially toddlers. I shared with her the hardest choice I had to make when she was just one and a half years old and my elder child was  three. It was one of the toughest years of my marriage....
9 comments
Read more

When Skill Meets Determination:A Salon, A Story and a Salute

Since time immemorial, both men and women have wished, ventured, and craved to look good, better, and sometimes the best. In every nook and corner of the world, whether in a bustling city, a quiet suburb, or a small village, salons and beauty parlours stand as testimony to this universal desire. With each generation, the dependence on such services has grown, shortcuts have become acceptable, and professional grooming has turned into a necessity rather than a luxury. This observation isn’t a conclusion drawn from research; it is born from personal experience with my twenty-one-year-old daughter. Having recently begun to manage her life independently, she is particular about her appearance and outlook. For the past three years, she has been living abroad and returns home every December for a month. During this time, she sweetly wishes to be pampered in every possible way. One such indulgence is getting her hair washed and blow-dried at a salon so that her curtain bangs remai...
10 comments
Read more

Silence

Silence is serene. Silence is solace. In several ways, silence saves the savage soul. Silence is static, strong, like sky-kissing mountains circling a sleepy hill town. Silence is somber when it stems from sadness. Silence strives to sleep over sickening strategies. Silence confers the childlike sleep upon the soulful, while it steals the peace of the soulless. Silence smiles and silences all conjectures. For a few, silence is a sweet remedy; for others, silence is a malady. For some, silence is a question impossible to crack. For others, silence is the answer to every crux. For some, silence is a shield. For others, the sharpest knife, the searing scythe. Most times, aparently silence saves bonds. At times, it breaks them into forms unrecognizable. Silence wears the face of a silent sage, yet stands indisputed as  a symbol of untamed rage. Life screams. Death silences. silence is a voice in itself, raising walls too high for unwanted noise to climb. Silence is a misunderstood path...
12 comments
Read more