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Thursday, June 3, 2010


Let me take you to a short story as I speak of this post today titled “What it Means To Be Human?” Once in a small village in the month of early spring as the birds where chirping and singing their melodies and the new grasses were sprouting in its youthful excitements, a girl of around the age of eight named Hanna was weeping solo under her thick blanket in her room ensuring to herself that none of her family members hears her. She lived with her widowed mom and her younger sister Jane. Her mom use to work as a gardener and as a maid in one of the Mayors of the village in which they lived. Hanna was a very pretty and a sensitive girl in emotion and so was her little sister Jane. Both Hanna and her sister Jane was very supportive and helpful little girls. They always understood the pain their mother took in bringing them up despite all the ordeals of the life after the sudden loss of their father to an unknown disease back then known as yellow death.

Hanna and her sister use to look after the house as their mother use to go for her work and return home late evening. Their house was heaven for them even after their livelihood was hand to mouth. They were the most cheerful little girls in the whole of the village; nobody ever knew the secret of these two little girls happiness, surprisingly not even their own mother.

But today at this hour of the time Hanna was crying to herself in her bed all alone. There was no as such a problem in the house that she was to be depressed about, the family income and livelihood was running very smooth in this early spring days of the year. As she was crying in her room her mother who happens to pass by her room for her day’s work hears her daughter’s low din of sobbing and wonders what is wrong with her little cheerful girl. She thinks of knocking the door and ask her what was troubling her, but before she even makes the decision of doing the act something holds her attention in the small rusty tin can beside her which was Hanna’s dustbin. She sees several sheets of paper of variant colors but amidst all of it her attention goes to a sheet of white paper with something written on it with a blunt pencil nip. She picks it up and unfolds the paper and reads the words written by Hanna in her own sweet hand writing “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MYSELF, HANNA”. She quickly realizes that today 18nd of June was her daughter’s birthday and no one in the family had remembered to wish her.

So now this was the time for her to act something very fast, so she quickly hustles to the Mayors house where she use to work and asks the Mayor for a few pieces of red and white roses. She quickly brings it home while her daughter is still in the room still weeping to her emotions. She takes out some of her old blue hair ribbons of her youth days from the drawer and ties a cute knot to the bouquet making a beautiful blue butterfly out of it. She then writes a Birthday note in a piece of paper as anonymous and places the flower and the note in front of the door of her birthday girl, she then knocks the door and hides herself behind the corner of the house’s store room, from where she could easily see her daughter.

After the knocks Hanna appears to answer the door with all the tears wiped up so as to pretend that nothing has happed. But as she sees the banquet and the note she becomes so over whelmed that she almost jumps with joy but only to find out that the sender was anonymous. She runs outside to see anyone waiting or may be someone just feeling away, but she sees none.

This is how Hanna’s 8th birthday was wished…...and as year sweeps by she never knows who the anonymous sender was. Her mother comforted her saying that may be there was some secret lover she had that she was unaware of and her sister Jane comes up with another theory that may be the ghost of her dad came and kept it there….despites all the assumptions it still remains a mystery for Hanna.

Many years later when Hanna’s mom becomes old and she remains mostly in the bed due to her age a day finally comes when Jane is found crying in her room the same way Hanna was many years ago. Hanna explains this situation about her sister Jane to her mother with profound regret and anxiety. Hanna’s mother asks her to quickly go to the Mayor’s place and ask for some red and white roses, Hanna instantly flees and comes back with the bouquet and then her mother asks her to get the blue ribbon lying in the drawer of her room almost untouched for years. She then knits the same old beautiful blue butterfly out of it and ties to the bouquet and in a piece of paper she write the same old birthday note…….and she asks her to hide in the same corner she once hid after the knocks…….. Tears slides down Hanna’s innocent nervous cheeks as she discovers who her anonymous birthday wisher was, the best birthday she ever had in her life…..she remains silent motionless as she looks into the faint loving eyes of her mother,………which still smiles back with that everlasting, unfailing love unconditional love.

Dear readers this is not just a story, my writing in stories is to bring out some facts and values of life which we knowingly or unknowingly have forgotten. We all have become so busy and sophisticated in our lives that we have hardly paused to find out who has really loved us true and helped to make your life worth living. May be even just for a second of your life that person has made you smile, I say to you all dear readers that today you take this time to go back to that moment of time, realize what it meant to have that person’s company in your life, how your life was a blessing with that person’s words, support, care, etc…..and thank that person, because he or she is worth it! That person may be your mother who has loved you and without you ever knowing sacrificed many things for you, may be your father who has loved you very much deep within though he is never able to express, your friends who has always stayed by your side or may be just even a maid of the house and most importantly our God who has blessed you with this life, they can be anyone but remember they are worth to be thanked and their presence in life worth to be acknowledged.

My intention in making up this story is not to be a great writer but preserve what we are all known as, yes my dear readers this is one thing in us that makes us human, THIS IS WHAT IT MEANS TO BE HUMAN do not lose that value! Even if just one reader takes this advice seriously and brings into practice then I say to myself that my work is rewarded.

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