Well I can certainly tell you a few stories or if you prefer juicy tales. I’ve been around long enough to keep you entertained. I’m by no means claiming that these tales are mine. No, I dare not have that much of an interesting life.
One night very long ago, two shadows crept in the night, they whispered and plotted. They pulled out a gun, all shimmery and bright and spoke of how they managed their flight. The lady pulled out the bag filled with diamond jewels. The sky became bright as the air filled with sirens. And just like that they were gone by the sound of the horn.
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What is that sound a faint voice spoke alone in the dark? A small silhouette, face in the hands, curled in a ball. Why me? I keep hearing. I feel a drip and then another. The sounds becomes louder and louder! She rocks her body from side to side and pleads with the air to stop being so unfair! And just like that she is gone in the night, leaving me wondering what she didn’t do right.
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Brighter days ahead, a mother teaching a child, don’t fight back, don’t be unkind, that’s not the way of the world. The little boy with wide open eyes and fuzzy brown hair starts kicking me hard. No, he screams, I want to fight; I don’t want to do what’s right. And just like that the mother stands up and utters no words. She grabs her son by his collar and guides him along shooing and shooing as he pulls her by the hand.
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And on another day, the old man in his blue coat wraps his arms around a lady. He tenderly pulls her closer to him and whispers so gently, I love you. She drops her gaze as tears fill her eyes. Please she pleads I don’t want to say goodbye. We have no choice – the time is near! That’s the way life is my dear. And just like that he walks away, with no more words.
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It is here where I have seen soul mates embrace each other, their hands wrapped around each other’s, a mother cradling her new born, and sometimes friends discussing their latest adventures and others counselling each other’s pain. I have even borne the pain of others sorrows. In the cold winter snow I stand alone, not a whisper, nor a tear! I wait patiently in the shadow of the old tree for a couple, a mother or a dear friend. No one dares come! I wonder why?
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When the butterflies start to sing and the trees start to bloom, I once again begin to feel alive. They all come with their whispers and thoughts to once again occupy my wooden chair.
by Shahida Bhandia
