Caricamento in corso...

The Casket

There once lived a kind princess
in a far off land long ago
She suffered a certain malady
for which she found no cure
 
 
We know something about her
Through tales we often hear of her
Tales that are carried across ages
Through various verbal resources
 
 
They say, in reflection she often stood
In front of mirrors on her palace walls
On these walls she often scribbled
The reflections of her own
 
 
She gave too much of herself
In every conversations she held
She unabashedly poured out
in her Sagas, the story of her life
The joys, the sorrows, the mistakes
And, all the people and things she liked
Through them she often gave others
an unsolicited advice
 
 
Her indiscretion was a source of her constant plight
It put her often in situations tight
 
 
She had a propensity to trust people unreservedly
For she believed that the world was essentially good
and its people truthful mostly
 
 
In empathy she shared and suffered
the anxieties, dilemmas and crises of 'others’
She often got involved in hasty redressal of their troubles
And found deep satisfaction in ameliorating the lives of’others’
 
 
Sometimes for days together
She mentally lived the lives of others
Her waking days were filled with the cares,
concerns and dreams dreamt by 'others’
 
 
She took immense pleasure
in celebrating the joys of others
She felt exhilarated and important
when she was remembered and involved
in festivities of others
 
 
As tokens of her affection
She gifted to her loved ones
The choicest wares she picked
In the markets around the world
 
 
Things that she found too precious to own herself
In sheer delight, she gifted to others
 
 
She was loved and cherished immensely
But she couldn’t grasp it physically
Whenever she was left alone
She got lonely, despondent and melancholy
She suffered a ‘constant lack’ in life
In this lay all her misery
 
 
She consulted an old wise Sage
To provide her with some remedy
After prolonged deliberation
That went on for some days
The old wise Sage came up
With a potion to save her Grace
 
 
He declared, that it was her heart that was faulty
It influenced her rationality and distorted her perception
Of reality
As a matter of fact she lived a special life
But her faulty heart made it, a mundane banality
 
 
She hinged all her happiness, said the sage
On constant reciprocity and declaration
of Love from 'others’
It was the basic cause, of all her troubles.
 
 
The world is not such a safe place, as she thinks it to be
If she carried her heart around, on her sleeves so freely
And openly displayed its wealth, to all and sundry
There are strong chances of it getting robbed, and hurt irreparably
 
 
The old wise Sage at last
Advised her to forsake her heart
If she likes it too much and found it difficult to part
She can keep it with herself
In a casket securely locked
 
 
She accepted His advise
Though she felt, she was sentenced to life
She locked her heart in a casket and lead
her remaining life with practical reason and total detachment
 
 
One day we shall know through words of mouth
 
The End of her story
 
 
©2013 Pallavi Mahajan
 
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