The Life of a Russet Leaf

Posted by Dinky Mind on Monday, December 27, 2004 in
It was a wonderful afternoon of autumn. I had just awoken from a frosty siesta. I glanced at my surroundings. The zephyr caressed the leaves and the branches were rustling and swaying with joy. All of us seemed like leaves of gold, gilded as we bathed in the sun. The rejuvenating beams emitting from the golden ball filled life in me. I yawned, strectched my arms, and inhaled the refreshing air. Each and every pore of my body felt refreshed and rejoiced to be alive. The singing of birds made the milieu more healthy and fresh. The day passed with great excitement, but none of us could forsee the catastrophe which the rising sun of the new day was about to bring.

The next morning, every leaf was horrified at the chaotic situation. Tree cutters amputated us from the rest of our tree world. This was the biggest shock I could have ever suffered from. The once gentle breeze that caressed our being turned into a thrashing wind, displacing us from our homes and throwing us hither and thither. The wind, that had always nestled us in its arms, today, proved to be treacherous. We all became its victims.

The wind played with us ruthlessly and we all went past in an addy of dust. Every leaf suffered in deep anguish but no one could do anything; we all were helpless, treated as thralls of the wind. The park was giving a true picture of a charnel-house of the charred leaves.

Nobody was aware of my feelings at that time. All my ecstasy-filled existence changed into deep melancholy. My self-esteem was completely tarnished. The tiara of my pride shattered into tiny, uncollectable pieces. I, who had always boasted about myself as the one soaring in the sky, was now lying under people's feet, crumpled up. I tried to hide my guilty face from other leaves' blunt comments, but the strong wind would carry me to a new place and throw me among old faces. It was yet another great insult to lie helplessly on the ground. I knew, every leaf was saying it all without saying a word. Everytime their brows crinckled in a frown, I would, at once, decipher what exactly they meant. My guilt was killing me more strongly than the powerful wind was. I gathered all my strength and tried to apologize to them all for my unbearable attitude, but the wind came again strongly, plucked me up, and threw me against the wall of a dump yard. This time I was extremely annoyed. I felt like vociferating all around, but I knew, it was futile.

I'm alive, but worse than dead! The once independent leaf is now totally dependent on the wind which callously crumples me up on the sharp blades of cinnamon-shaded grass.

I think I have posted this thing before too. (Dont remember....check my archives).



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