Note:
Parts of this chapter are inspired by a story written by our very own GEETHR75.
I sincerely hope I've been able to justice to her ethereal words!
LOVE YOU GEETHA DI!!!!! <3
***
If there is one dimension that reflects its inherent constancy in its dynamism, it is always that of-
-TIME-
-For time never stops. Never does it cease its constant journey towards that one evident, yet unknown destination that it strives to reach in its existence as a dimension in the speck that one calls life. It is this dimension that obscures vivid dreams, this very ceaseless flow that blunts the sharpness of youth, this relentless journey that slowly and steadily wipes out memories as effortlessly as it endeavours to smooth any abrasions created by them.
Time, as it ends one phase, be it causative or consequential, seamlessly begins it way to another, led by the previous, the order of the two notwithstanding, they always are preceded and succeeded by one another.
Such is the way time operates in its course. In all occurrences time is the only one that remains a passive, yet active participate in its being.
It is its own afflux, that ends journeys to initiate another, one with a higher meaning and purpose.
Yet in all its dynamism, in all its transition, it chooses to leave somethings unscathed. Especially those that bond those who inhabit the realm affected by it.
***
'Pitashree!'- the voice of his five-year old daughter melted his heart, yet again, like it did everytime she came to him.
As did the sight of her tiny, innocent form sprinting lightly towards him.
'Yes, my dear.'- he bent his towering frame to gather her in his arms. The child comfortably settled herself in his lap, with all her authority.
This tiny female had The Crown Prince of Hastinapur wrapped around her little finger. To little Lakshmana, her father's royal stature meant nothing, as she could happily bend that mighty Prince according to her will.
-'I want to hear another story!' Lakshmana commanded.
Duryodhan clearly had no reserves of fairy tales to lure his daughter to sleep. But he had to have other measures that would prompt her to do so.
'Didn't your mother tell you one?'- he asked, -'For I don't know any fairy tales.'
Lakshmana pouted, in sheer dissatisfaction at her father's poor storytelling capabilities.
'Yes she did'- she pouted once more, -'but I couldn't sleep. And if Ma wakes up again,'-
YOU ARE READING
Love That Lay in Ruins
Ficção HistóricaIt all started when they humiliated the one sired by Fire itself. When one is blinded by an insane lust of an infernal nature, particularly one pertaining to power, all his merits stand nullified, and emasculated in such vicious intoxication. This t...
