All alone it
lies there, on that cobblestone road. All alone, neglected and not cared. That
Rose which once flaunted its beauty is now turning a bitter shade of brown on
that carefree road.
Perhaps it
signifies the rejection of a loved one, or maybe has fallen off the head of a pompous
unmindful lady or has been cast out from its rosy friends because it could no
longer blend in with them. But nevertheless, that Rose lies there, meeting its
death. Its beauty, all gone. Its alluring power fades to nothing.
I wonder if
this happens to all of us. When we glow, show our avidness, or talents, our
capabilities to the world, we feel as though we are on cloud nine, with people
all around praising us, literally worshipping at our feet. The aura of
awesomeness that surrounds us blinds us from the thorns of reality. And just when that glow gradually dampens, we
crash hard on the floor. The same people turn against us. We are now trodden on,
neglected, not cared for and left for the dead.
The Rose
which once swayed its plump redness in the winds with all bees and birds
bumbling and chirping aloud around it has now been left to enjoy its solitary
decay.
How can we
be so cruel to such a beautiful thing? Wasn’t it the same rose that adorned our
heads and met the glee of everyone? Wasn’t it the same rose that perhaps
swooned at our grandmothers who sat in her veranda watching it? Wasn’t it the
same rose that made our hearts flutter when it was presented to us as a token
of friendship or love? Yes it was the same rose. Then why did we fail to see
its significance when it just turned a tinge of brown. Why did we forget its
purpose to us? Is it justifiable to be indifferent to things that once
flattered our hearts…
Why is it
that we always see what is on the outside? Why is it that we judge a person on
their looks and their flamboyance? Isn’t there something called the inner
beauty? Why do humans fail to see the inner beauty that is unique to each and
every one of us? Why do people put up a fake personality and be unmindful to
their inner beauty and sham about who they think they should be?
All these
questions seem to mingle in the air around me when I think of that dead,
decaying Rose fallen on that carefree road.
