Stories to Change

Story #4: Tears of a Stone

One day, I was sitting outside the mosque. Out of boredom, I carelessly kicked a rock. It was not a regular rock. It was a broken fragment of cement with some algae attached to it, but I could care less.

It rolled silently to one side, but after some time, I heard faint cries. Curious to see the source, I turned around. To my sheer amusement, that sound was coming from the same rock I had kicked earlier.

I picked it up and dusted it with my palms.

"Why does everyone like to hurt me?"

"You are just a stupid rock," I said.

"I am not just any stupid rock you cocky assumptive being. I am as important as you are," It cried.

"Then what are you?" I asked.

"We are clones of each other. We share the same origin that is mother Earth. The only difference is that you were born in a house while I opened my eyes in a cave. It was a big cave located in the heart of a big mountain at a really high altitude. I used to live a happy life there with my brothers.

Every morning the sweet morning breeze would come to visit us. It tickled our laziness away with its cold and fresh hands. Our days passed by, and we used it to observe the hide and seek game the sun and the moon played everyday. Since we were living in high altitudes, we occasionally received any visitors.

Sometimes, when the sky fairy was grumpy and there was a thunderstorm, nature always sent us company in the form of any traveler. It was fun to welcome strangers and watch over them throughout the night as they slept. It was helpful as it diverted my mind from my curiosity about the storm.

Once in a while, Mother Earth grumbled and rumbled, causing earthquakes. It happened due to the damage caused to her by the human race but we always stood strong and united during such events. Our unity helped us survive every crisis. We were happily living our lives.

All was going well until a black jeep stopped in front of the mountain. Some beings of your race came to us. They took photos and drilled here and there. They took away some of our brothers. We were dumbfounded about this incident, unable to speak nor express our pain. At every sound we used to flinch and no one was as happy as before.

A few days passed and they returned with more preparation. There were a lot of people and strange machines. It was the most horrible day of my life. They drilled and drilled all day. We cried and begged but they ruthlessly separated us from each other.

Our broken bits were loaded into a truck. We were sent to a factory. They segregated, crushed, heated, ground and processed us. They used to say I was a rare piece of iron but I never understood why. I hated my new form and kept crying for days.

I was further processed and incorporated into a cement bag. I was brought to a shop. Being with strange people and in a stranger environment, I was always blue. I wanted to everything to turn back to how it was before.

Failing to accept change. Failing to accept that everything happens for a reason. Hardships come into our lives to mould someone into the best version of one's self. 

Anyway, from the shop, I was sold to some people.

They brought me to an open place. They were building something. It was fun sitting there and watching them. I saw many workers who laboured hard from morning to evening.

At the same time I saw those lazy ones who spent their days chatting and playing cards. There are all sorts of people in this world. Variety is what that keeps this world colorful and interesting. Even the monotony of seasons tends to bore us. They said they were building the house for the country's president. I felt great pride but at that moment, forgot the basics, that pride had a long fall.

I was mixed with water. A mason very skilfully painted me on bricks. I was left for some days to solidify. Then I was painted a pastel color. I was delighted to see my new form. I was now a part of the library section.

In the beginning I never reached out for anyone; as I failed to accept the change. When I accepted it, it became easier for me. I made lots of new friends here. The books, lights, chandeliers and furniture and even the sparrows who used to live outside the window. We talked all day.

I witnessed the eras of many presidents. I always loved the hustle and bustle. The most exciting part was listening to the discussions of policy makers. I loved how thoughtful they were for other people. I was also a witness to their treacheries.

Then, the age changed and this building was donated. It became a university. The hall was renovated. This time I got a cream dress to wear. This part remained as the library. It remained crowded with students. I loved watching those young blooming flowers who came to visit the library every time they faced any difficulty.

But everything has an end doesn't it? One day Mother Earth fought back again. I tried to hold on but it was all in vain. That earthquake hit us pretty hard. The infrastructure of that old library hall was badly damaged. The wall cracked and I fell apart, turning into smaller parts as I landed on the ground.

Later on, the library was repaired but the broken rubble was dumped in the main lawn under the great oak tree. Ever since I have been waning here and there. Nature is killing me off slowly. One day, I will happily perish as I lived my life to its fullest. I have no regrets now."

The rock then fell silent. It seemed like it was the end for this rock. It didn't seem to say anything in reply.

Yet, I was spell bound. After all, it had taught me something amazing. 

So, I went on to be a better person, all thanks to that one stone. 

You have a purpose. You were not created for nothing. So open the eye of your spirit and look around. You will find your purpose. Life is beautiful. It's not about staying in the hard times. It's about fighting and cherishing each and every moment to its fullest. If God made us Homo sapiens, then it's up to us to show him that we are worth to be called the most supreme creation of this planet!