In the wonderland

                I live in a world that was supposed to end on 21^st Dec 2012.  Mine ended 3 days before the doomsday.  Of course an end always marks a new beginning. On this day I banged my head into the wall with the hope to enter a beautiful, unknown fort; instead I was thrown away by the gate keeper who pointed at a board outside that said, "No entry". I had seen the board before; it had always been there like an ugly scar. I never paid attention to it.  I always hoped that maybe one day I will climb up the wall and enter the fort. 

                          The fort was beautiful, with its thick walls that extended all around the territory. It had a mysterious appeal to it. Strategically located on the hilltop, seated in the nature's lap, it looked magnificent from outside. The forests surrounding it were its natural protection. Not many could reach such a fort without fighting the perils of nature. Some brave-hearts must have tried, but their stories lay buried inside the fort forever. These stories never appealed to me. I was caught by its sheer magnificence. 

                          I don't remember how exactly I managed to reach the fort. I didn't even know the fort existed. One Sunday morning while I was busy playing on the swing and lost in my day dream of being this free bird that can fly to faraway lands, I suddenly saw a beautiful blue butterfly hovering over the flowers. This butterfly was very unusual than the rest. Apart from its big size it seemed to be twittering. I had never seen a twittering butterfly. Maybe my flowers pleased him so much. I decided to follow Mr. Butterfly. So off I went, deep into the woods, behind my butterfly, not knowing where it was leading me to, just following like how dogs follow the scent of the bone. On my way I saw many beautiful things I had never seen before. It amazed me to see that all these beautiful creatures existed so close to me, living their daily lives, doing their chores, just like how we humans do. I had entered the undisturbed part of the forest which most people feared to enter. I didn't know any fear; I didn’t know what to fear. Everything seemed to be welcoming me.

                     Soon the forest ended and I realized I was on the hill top. The butterfly had disappeared somewhere; but I hardly cared, as what lay in front of me was more enchanting than anything I had ever seen. I couldn't believe such a place could exist. Right at the top of the hill surrounded by forest on one side and a beautiful pond on the other there stood this huge ancient fort. “A fort on the hill-top!” I wondered why, “I would have built a beautiful home, had I found this place before”. But Alas! Someone had found this place before me and built a Fort.

                         Running towards the fort I decided to explore a little more, I was probably at the back side, there were no gates there. When I reached close to it and stared up, I couldn't see the top of the wall. It looked like it continued straight into the sky above. “Wow! A fort leading into the sky. What more could be there inside?” I wondered. I had not found any entrance yet. As I walked, I ran my hands over the walls of the fort. My palm could cover just the corner of one squared stone. The fort was probably made by thousands of such stones. The sheer magnificence sent a current down my spine. “If only I could live in this fort!  But where was the entrance?”

                        It was getting dark by then. All shadows had disappeared or rather everything around now looked like shadows. I was tired after my long adventure and decided to rest for a while. I lay against the wall feeling its roughness against me and also its support. The walls seemed alive; I felt protected even when I was all alone in an unknown territory; and like how I would talk to my pillows at home before going to bed, I spoke to the walls. I told the walls about the journey I had, about how I followed a twittering butterfly, about my home down below, about my friends and folks, about my likes and dislike. I had found a friend in the walls of this fort. They listened to me patiently, they never mocked me for my stupid ideas, at times I felt the walls responded with 'hmmm' and 'ok', sometimes they laughed too, calling me an Alien. They looked at me with loving wonder as I ran like a mad kitten trying to follow birds and butterflies. They laughed at my childlike questions and imaginations. But they were always there listening with rapt attention. Sometimes if I behaved well during the day they would tell me their stories, about the battles they fought, the times they had seen and their ‘feathers in cap’ moments. These were music to my ears. I loved everything the Walls told me and was always hungry for more.

                      Every day in the morning, I would get up and practice how to fly. I tried to flap my hands like birds and run around. The walls couldn't understand why I did this. I would find it looking at me all amused, I tried explaining how I wanted to fly so I could cross over it and enter the fort. To this the walls said nothing, but somehow I felt it say, ’'How I wish, but I know you can't”.

                      I had walked for days, yet had not reached the front. This did not deter me; I had the walls for company. The walls always listened to all that I had to say; nothing changed its sturdy, stoic appearance. The walls never spoke so much, except on rare occasions. Those were my lucky days.  I always pestered it with requests for stories it had in its store. But it wouldn't divulge its secrets. I feared its anger sometimes and was scared my repeated request might trigger it easily, but luckily it always took me as a pesky child and continued looking stoic and calm. The more I heard, the more I wondered about the seasons it had seen, the turbulence it felt and the joy and sorrows it had within. I wonder if they had feelings and memories like me.  I sometimes wished the walls could rest for a while. Standing this erect without bending must be tiring; but the walls just stood with no expressions.

                     Days passed into years and I had got so use to the routine of the wall and me. Working by the day and telling stories at twilight, waiting for the night. The night was particularly beautiful there. As the sun said, “goodbye, farewell!” Zillions of other stars would rise up to say, “Hello! How do you do?” The sky looked studded with jewels and as I stared I felt as if I was floating with them. It was a movie every night, the walls knew the story well and I heard them again and again with delight.

                    Thus life moved on until it decided to stop. I had reached the entrance, that small little gate. To enter one would have to crouch down. I couldn't believe such a big fort had a gate not even my size. As I reached closer I saw the gate keeper standing next to a board which was almost the size of the gate. The board said, ‘No entry’. It could be easily read even from a distance. But I did not heed to it, I marched ahead with confidence, after all the walls were my friends. The gate-keeper saw me approaching and immediately became all alert. He yelled “Stop! You outsider, Go Away, you don’t belong here.” As I started to speak, “but I……” he didn’t let me complete, he didn’t want to listen. He held out his long stick at me, threateningly. I couldn’t stand there any longer, I ran as fast as my legs could take me, I came to my only shelter there, I came back to my friend, the walls. My dreams of entering the forts had shattered. The ecstasy of finding the gate was replaced by the fear of the gate keeper who warned me with a stick.

                        I came to the Walls complaining and crying “But I am your friend, why doesn’t he let me inside, I mean no harm. I love everything about this fort. He called me an outsider, why did he call me an outsider? I love this place, doesn’t love cross all barriers? Isn’t love the best relation? Isn’t that the relation we hold with every living species and the nature? Doesn’t that make us all one? The butterfly brought me here and the beauty of this place kept me here, your friendship was my only company, everything about this place in these many years became a part of my soul. And now suddenly the gate keeper just threw me away. Say something Wall.” But the walls just stood. I knew they were listening, but they didn’t look the same.  In my frustration of receiving no answer I rushed and banged my head into the wall. Thinking that will move it a little and I can enter. Nothing moved except the throbbing I felt in my head. The Walls looked down at me and just said one sentence,”You can’t enter, nobody is allowed to enter. GO, run back to your folks” Although these were simple words, but they were enough to shatter me. There was something strange in that voice, they were of a stranger.

                       I ran and ran that day, as far as I could go from the fort. I crossed the deep forest. The pain took care of the fear. I reached home and plunged myself into my bed. That night I cried. Pillows, my friend, took it all. They said nothing, but in their embrace I wept like a baby. They absorbed all my tears and put me to sleep. I didn’t want to wake up; I hoped it was all a dream and I could go back being friends with the walls. But when I woke up, I knew something had got amputated from my life. I could feel something missing. When Pillows saw me awake, they said,” I missed you”. When I heard that I burst into tears again, saying,”but the walls won’t miss me.” I had no strength to tell my story. The pillows quietly asked, “Did you miss me?” I had no answer, I had carried the love of the pillow in my heart, and I did not really miss it.” The pillows knew this. They said, “You didn’t miss me because you knew I was always there with you and you had to complete your journey, I missed you because I carried you in my heart and waited for your return, Missing somebody doesn’t sanctify your love for them. Real love doesn’t give you pain. How could it? What gave you pain was your shattered dreams. But I know you are a dreamer, I have watched your dreams as you shut your eyes, and I have been the witness to all your fairytales. And I know you will keep painting your dreams. But remember dreams are not love. Dreams are here so we can enjoy the journey of life. Do everything you can to live your dream, but also learn to simply be the watcher as you work your way to the dream. You don’t need dreams or anything in this world to feel Love and Joy. They are your very essence.”

                     Pillow’s words were comforting; I got moving with my life, but kept missing the fort. I had decided never to go up there again. I longed to see it, but curbed all my longings. Days passed, the longings only grew. My Mind said, “Why do you want to go where your presence and absence doesn’t make any difference, look at the Pillow he Missed you. Don’t go, stay here."  My heart said, “How does that matter? You know the walls, it’s their very nature to stand erect and watch things pass by. Didn’t you always admire their fortitude and calmness, so why should anything change your friendship? So what if it makes no difference to the walls. You know your love for them will last till the last air you breathe. So go, Go say a Hi!” The heart would win in this battle. But before the heart could hold its reward, the mind interfered and used its ultimate weapon, ‘The weapon of Pain’. It reminded me of all the pain and tears, of the hurt after being thrown away. The memory would be brutal enough to stop my feet. I stayed back and engaged myself in all the worldly affairs. I heard nothing from the walls. Friends and family kept me busy but deep down I walked with the walls.

                  Then one Sunday morning I went visiting a friend. We both decided to paint together. With brushes in my hand and colors by my side, I looked at that blank paper that would soon be filled with colors; very soon a picture would come to life. My brushes carried the red, the blue the green, the yellow and combined them together to form a beautiful pattern. The paper now became a painting. The colors became the pattern. I wanted to add more colors to it. But knew that the picture was complete; more would only spoil it. I kept my brush down and admired my painting. Wasn’t my friendship with the wall like a painting? I added my colors, of love, respect, sharing and caring and formed a lovely picture with it. The patterns had set in well, the colors of our friendship was perfect. Whether the wall saw it or not, how much ever upright it stood without bending, the painting was made. It didn’t require any more colors to make it complete. It was complete. I had to keep my brush down and now enjoy the view of our friendship.

              When I had first gone up to the fort, I was struck by its magnificence. The very fact that it wouldn’t bend for anything made me proud of it. I longed to be inside it; to know its stories of bravery, to plant a few trees and flowers there, to lie in the hammock and watch the stars. Today whenever I go up to the fort, I enjoy the view of my painted friendship. I look at the walls still standing erect. They don’t talk to me anymore the way they use to. They don’t listen to my stories the way they use to. My only comfort is they recognize me.  I stay and watch the beauty around, absorbing every detail. I look at the birds and envy the fact that they can go over the walls, I once wanted to be that bird so I could settle inside the fort. But it doesn’t hurt anymore as my painting is perfect; I have the complete picture of the outside. I can still hear the music of our laughter floating outside; I have framed this friendship for Life.