Stories

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

[Image credit – Keith Ikeda Barry]

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.  

  Macbeth’s speech; By William Shakespeare

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Signifying nothing, says Macbeth and says it passionately, firmly, with anger and despair. He knows his end is near. All the desires, great ambitions, strategies to win, greed to own it all, everything looks foolish now when he is facing his death.

Macbeth is helpless, he triggered this, he invited his doom and unable to believe it he cries out that, ‘it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.’  

But it signifies everything, not only the perplexities, the complexities, the horror that the character faces, but also the routine dilemmas, confusions, ups and downs that any of us go through. And like Macbeth if we are in the wrong then we do strut and fret and also shout, ‘out, out brief candle’.  

The majority which is not as ambitious and as covetous as Macbeth, the majority that has tied itself down to the daily chores and their precious little things, little things that take big space in their hearts, they, my dear, commit follies differently, they strategise differently and thus, are fooled differently.  

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, it will signify the same when another Macbeth will take the centre stage.


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The Broken Nest and Other Stories by Rabindranath Tagore

The Broken Nest

Charu and Amal didn’t understand their heart’s secret, but how could it be that their own heart hid something from them, well it did. Maybe, Charu’s binoculars didn’t work properly. And Mr. Bhupati, a lost editor, busy sketching the details of a busy world, had no time for keeping secrets. Why did they give their secrets to Time for safekeeping? Time always travels light, thus, it naturally left their secrets behind, visible for them all to see, casting a spell. The spell didn’t kill, it broke hearts.

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The Ghat’s Tale

Vasant… Grishm… Varsha… Sharad… Hemant… Shishir…

Six seasons talked to the Ghat near the Ganga River. The seasons brought green moss at times and dry leaves at others, dipping the Ghat into sunlight and rain shower with love, the seasons spoke less, but heard sincerely. What did the Ghat tell them? It shared stories… stories of you and me.

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Notebook

Let her be, why torment her, why read her notebook without her consent? She is little, just a girl, a child bride, she has left her world behind, she has carried some in her notebook.

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Postmaster

Love is all-powerful and yet it blooms slowly in every soul taking time to realise it completely. A shade of love wrote a letter to the Postmaster who, tricked by mind, read it too late. Oh! That feeling…

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The Broken Nest is a novella, while the other three are short stories; each one holds a complete universe and touches you deeply. Rabindranath Tagore beautifully writes in the language of love, his characters always express something which stays usually hidden within a heart, sidelined by the talkative world. Every story of his is like a time machine, it unfolds the past keeping it alive and magical at the same time. The birds sing sweetest of songs in his stories, the earth dances the best to his tunes, the colour red blushes flamboyantly in his paintings and tears take time to dry up when he narrates. Know his work and you will know.

A painting by Rabindranath Tagore

The Green Grassland

The joyous grassland. [Source – Pixabay]

The green grassland is calling me to come and run freely. As soon as I keep my feet on the green grassland, it says I’ll be liberated. And then I will also be able to fly.

I will run and I’ll not get tired and the surroundings will never change and nothing will end. The wind will be sweet and I’ll feel dizzy. Even if I fall, I’ll smile.

Then lying on the green grassland I’ll look at the sky, it will be blue in parts and green where the prairie will canopy me.

I’ll lie there and smile and feel warm and good and like the sunshine, I’ll shine. The green grassland says so.


Also, read what did the Green Lake said to Meredith here.


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Creepers Meet the Trees

Green love!
[Source – Pixabay]

I believe in the waves. Everything in the universe is in the form of waves. The connection never breaks. Reverberation happens. Do you also feel it? It is amazing, but most of the times beyond our understanding, often leaving us frustrated.

Like when something is in front of us, we know that it is but we can’t find it.  

I saw something that caught my attention, I saw some creepers climbing high and meeting the trees’ branches. The light green coloured creepers united with the brown coloured branches and the contrast between these colours and the dark green coloured tree-leaves looked so perfect, as if the scene was painted.

I don’t know if the union was meant to be or not. It was just wonderful, the creepers slowly crept on to the big trees; first the trunk and then the branches and then making a green velvety blanket with the leaves, like a slow wave.

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Capturing sunshine.
[Source – Pixabay]

The clouds move beautifully you know. They dance. They don’t stay at one place. We should also learn it. I mean we should keep in mind the fact that nothing is permanent, everything shifts from being to non-being. The clouds allow the sun rays to pass through it, only sometimes the sun rays decide to stay back and be with the clouds. The clouds change in colour when they are about to rain.

What a grand way to leave, to change into droplets and become a seed and come alive and then to meet the sun rays once again.  

When a dancer performs and a singer sings and a musician plays and a painter paints and an architect builds, and a scientist thinks and a mother smiles – it is in a wave form. Like the velvety green wave we see in the forest, when the creepers meet the trees.

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