The newspaper never wanted to be one. Perhaps it was so destined. Like every morning, it reached the doorstep, slid through the gap above the doormat and lay silently anticipating the worse. Suddenly, it found itself hurled onto the table unmindfully by a lady. It knew more was to come. Thus began rounds of careful scrutiny, dirty glances, serious considerations and endless debates. The content might not have been its will, but the comments were certainly its predicament.
It tossed carelessly, accompanying tea, as they exchanged opinions. Some commented on the nature of the event, some expressed shock and awe, while some simply chuckled. Vernal showers - nothing was left out - from amusement to sympathy to disrespect and finally, dismissal. It was a lengthy day. Even the night brought no peace. When all excitement was over, a bored member of the household took upon the desire to scribble on the little white space available. Silent submission was the only option available, with ardent prayers to reach the dense shelf of old, useless newpapers.
The prayer was granted at long last. Faces disappeared, voices faded and darkness reigned supreme. Tomorrow would be a new day for sure, with a new substitute to go through all this burden of civilization. And just when life seemed to draw towards that much desired end, the lights went on once again. A little girl came out and walked towards the shelf. Hadn't it been enough for the day, it wondered...! And just as feared, it was dragged out of the shelf yet again. There seemed something new this time. The girl handled it differently. She was, unlike the others, so not-interested in the content. She opened the folds and gently added to its being new marks of existence. It found itself turned and folded in various patterns, until a result was achieved to her satisfaction. She now called it a boat.
She then placed it upon her table in her room and looked up at the sky.
It was confusing - this entire journey. What was it now - an old discarded newspapers or new-born boat of hope... It too looked up at the sky, bewildered.
One could only wait for rain perhaps...
It tossed carelessly, accompanying tea, as they exchanged opinions. Some commented on the nature of the event, some expressed shock and awe, while some simply chuckled. Vernal showers - nothing was left out - from amusement to sympathy to disrespect and finally, dismissal. It was a lengthy day. Even the night brought no peace. When all excitement was over, a bored member of the household took upon the desire to scribble on the little white space available. Silent submission was the only option available, with ardent prayers to reach the dense shelf of old, useless newpapers.
The prayer was granted at long last. Faces disappeared, voices faded and darkness reigned supreme. Tomorrow would be a new day for sure, with a new substitute to go through all this burden of civilization. And just when life seemed to draw towards that much desired end, the lights went on once again. A little girl came out and walked towards the shelf. Hadn't it been enough for the day, it wondered...! And just as feared, it was dragged out of the shelf yet again. There seemed something new this time. The girl handled it differently. She was, unlike the others, so not-interested in the content. She opened the folds and gently added to its being new marks of existence. It found itself turned and folded in various patterns, until a result was achieved to her satisfaction. She now called it a boat.
She then placed it upon her table in her room and looked up at the sky.
It was confusing - this entire journey. What was it now - an old discarded newspapers or new-born boat of hope... It too looked up at the sky, bewildered.
One could only wait for rain perhaps...
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