It all started when I was a kid. I was quite a wimpy kid , but creative , and imaginative. I used to talk alot but. Maybe because I liked telling stories more than listening to them. My mind must have changed and so would have been my soul since that time , and it should , because there was this tree that once said to me ” No matter what choices , whatever changes you make , never be scared of your decisions , because there’s always some way to compensate and dispair is not one of them “. Well those definitely were excellent words but I know you still are stuck at “said by a tree” . Well technically that might not be the correct choice of words , I mean mango tree is a tree, apple tree is a tree , but when I say banyan well then it’s not just a tree , it’s a superpowered , mythical , magical, superintelligent , eons-old , storyteller , who “obviously” has a deep , manly voice .
So I used to have these dreams , where I use to wander around in a limbo world , and everything around me is silent , like no wind , no vibrations , no noise , nothing . Just a wide and open grassland with a blue sun and a navy bluish sky and everything around me is just too ghostly . And then I start walking and , as I move a few miles I see a cemetery . I don’t know why but it was like a vibe I felt to reach there , and so I did . As i aproached the place of doomed , it didn’t feel that dead . It felt more alive than the other parts . The cemetery however was quite strange in other ways . Ironically it was quite a beauty . It was neat , it was organised , and it was endless as if the whole world was dead .and then out of the blue I saw something green. It kept singing as if dancing to its own music , made by its leaves , that again dance in the breeze created by themselves. Among all the odds that was the strangemost , but , “I was dreaming” , so ,what the hell! So I moved to this tree and I noticed the sloppy arial roots that hung down the old tree . They were spread all over the place , going to every cemetery , as a part of the epitaph. Just then I noticed that the graves were quite too close ,unless it was of dwarfs. There are no bodies under them , it’s just some empty graves , filled with every possible emotion you know of . Just embedded into the letters and never said. These are stories kid , millions of them. Since i could see no one I believed the tree spoke. However “more astonishing” for me were his words . What letters ,and whose story , and how did hear what i thought , but again it was a tree , and if you have listen ed to a story then you would know that #101 for a story , is never doubt the BANYAN TREE .
However he must have sensed it and so he said that not every sun does set in east under thick red flames. Sometimes a sun at dawn rising from the blue in the lap of dawn can also be misunderstood if not looked upon closely.
Marking his words I looked at the epitaph again and I sat a book embedded in it with a name , maybe a pen name , a date and some two or three words maybe some deal about it too , but why one date.
Well it’s a story and story is made of words and emotions , either of which once born , never gets old.
I really liked it how he added his thoughts as deep meaning quotes in his poetic voice whenever he finished his line in deep voice. Very much like me , although my lines are mostly punchlines and instead of deep voice I use drumbeats. But above all I now had an answer to how he could hear my thoghts –
- Because they were quite dumb.
- Because I was dreaming and you don’t speak when you dream.
But somewhere knowing the fact that there is some banyan tree in my mind , filled me with pride and excitement.
So i dared again to ask the tree that where was I and who was he. And yes now it was stupid , because I was literally asking a tree for “dude, where the hell am I?”
Well you must know for yourself where you are . We all know where we go , we just don’t speak it out aloud .
So now I was sure it was a cemetery and it had people’s story burried in it and it was all connected to an old banyan tree who rhymed funny. I was there cause I wanted to , but why?
Why is it that we hate to ask those questions that we think are unnecessary . I mean how much more time could you possibly waste than thinking about it all along. Yes you are here because you need me , but more because I need you.
So you do have a name?
Yes I do.
What exactly is it.
Why should I tell you , it’s my name , what is of you kept in it
Wow a speaking and aroogant tree.
However if you wish you could call me Past , yeah that’ll do , my name is S.Z. Past.
So you didn’t have a name before?
When did I say that?
But … And i stopped cause no offence to any tree reading this post , but , trees are pretty moddy. Rather I asked him what a normal person is supposed to ask , when he meets a tree. “What is your story”.
My story or your story , cause there’s no much difference , we all have a story , these graves , they all did , they all do and will forever, all I do is keep listening finding answers to those questions that they never got an answer to .
So you mean you have everyone’s answer ?
When did I say that?
Irritating or not , I believe I saw it coming . So even i surpassed any other questions and asked “Tell me one that you like”
I like? Well there are many , but the one that has been quite a story to me is of an young kid , of pretty much you age , bold in character , fierce in nature , for only if he had learned the right time to bend , he would have withstood the heat.
Who’s story is it?
Better if i read it to you right out from his tongue ? For his name was Balthazar Steel , and this is his story. …….. To be continued……….