The same old stories

Leading a solitary life of a zombie I've got the time I needed to pull myself to the laboratory of my past life as a human so that I can understand what kind of a human being I've been. I was a loner perpetually drowned in the ocean of melancholy thrown in freely by the mighty hand of the creator. I used to think of myself as a mannequin in the store of the Creator put up for displaying sadness in its various shades. Now when I look back I think I could have saved myself from that ocean if only I had learnt to swim; maybe I was too lazy to move my limbs that I took it for granted that I could never swim. I see myself as a pathetic fool who deserved to die a brutal death only because I thought only I was leading a melancholic life while all others basked in the glory of beautiful life. I found myself shedding tears; tears of forlornness, tears of failure, tears of discontentment, tears of betrayal, tears of broken dreams, tears of what I didn't have and others were blessed with, I had shed so much of tears that my eyes had become a barren desert devoid of any moisture. But now when I travel to various household, not to hunt down preys but to seek life in its various colors, I see the story I felt was only mine being played in all the households I've visited so far. I've seen people swimming in the whirlpool of their broken dreams wanting to play harder at attaining just one chance before finally relenting to give oneself away to the adversity; I've heard people thinking their thoughts of dejection aloud hoping to find solace in the echo of his own voice, pretending that echo to be the voice of another lost character like himself; I've learnt of beings putting up a façade of someone they were not because they simply wanted to play foul against the hand that was bent on proving them otherwise. Kahlil Gibran's voice then spoke softly in my ears," A Thousand years ago my neighbour said to me, 'I hate life, for it is naught but a thing of pain.' And yesterday I passed by a cemetery and saw life dancing upon his grave." I didn't have to check on my grave to see life dancing on my grave for since the time I learnt that all beings pass through the same stream of sentiments in life I felt a different tug in my heart in place of the age-old pull of sorrows. An exulting feeling empowered my weakened senses and I roamed in the shower of new rains which didn't remind me of all the tears that I had shed in my human life. If there ever is heaven's manna of wisdom you seek, you find that in the load that you carry in your heart.