

Tales are sometimes spilled beyond the printed words. Piu wonders about the bedtime tales that started and travelled to come back again.
Once upon a time..
‘Why do the fairy tales Always start with a big fat O!!’
Mostly, yes. but, not always….
‘Okay! Mostly! And ‘Mostly’ after that ‘Time’ comes invariably.’
Maybe, like ‘O’, it travels a circular path ….
‘Who?’
Time…..
‘Because we have trapped ‘Time’ in a clock?’
Hahaha…Trapping Time is quite a Herculean task…
‘But clock is Always round!!’
Mostly, yes, but not Always….
‘But my grade five teacher said, time is like a Merry-go-round! Aren’t they round?’
Teachers are wise but not Always….
‘You?’
Wise enough to realize that I am a fool…..
‘Time is not round then!’
Mostly, yes! Not Always…
But I have seen Time travel otherwise…..
‘How did you see Time? I thought, you can just count them!! Don’t say Mostly yes, to that!!!’
Hahaha… I have felt that I have seen time to be frozen ‘Still’. As still as…..
‘As, You?’
As You! The love that I see in your dark round eyes reminds me of the reflection of the white capped mountains on the blue glacier lake, Tullian lake, some thirty thousand feet above the ground level. There the wind stops blowing, water forgets to ripple its own surface. Time stops there! Time is still, a dot , concentrated like the pupil of your eyes filled with love.
‘Love is Time?’
Some Love are Time bound; some are beyond. When unbounded, both, Time, and Love neither travel nor waver…….
‘Are we talking about Time or Love?’
None, it is about us….
‘Dad, I will Always Love you! Like the merry-go-round, like the mountains still on the Tully or whatever lake you said. You?’
Always… Always…..
(Artwork: Piu Mahapatra)
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Happy New Year my fellow time traveler! You have started the new year with a lovely fable featuring a bubbly kid who is supposed to be listening but is talking most of the time.
The real problem for an adult is that the points she brings up can’t be just pushed aside. One does feel sorry for her hapless fifth grade teacher. Again as it happens again and again while reading your vignettes we end up with a lump in the throat. Ah the vanished world of childhood! The colorful artwork I suppose stands for the aforesaid world.