Last Sunday, I finished a good book and for the first time on turning the last page, my heart skipped a beat, my throat refused to gulp down air and an innocent tear trickled down my cheek.
As I kept the book on the shelf, beside numerous other ones, I began to notice all the books that I had read in the distant past and had left to be slapped by fumes of dust.
At first I became a little more conscious of the present, but then after a while, I was submerged in an ocean of nostalgia.
Each and every page, in those hundred odd books reminded me that they once shared a bond with me. That each and every one of those billion words had been read over and that each and every one of them helped to satisfy me by weaving vivid tales, some speckled with cheerfulness, some with melancholy.
What amazed me was that just one book had triggered in me, a series of revelations, that once discovered made me sentimental, however happy. But amidst all of this, I was sad too. How could I have forgotten all of those books so easily? How could I ignore such epitomes of knowledge, just because I was engaged, probably with something more superfluous!
Well that brings me to the message that I am trying to convey. Life is like one big book, which keeps on turning its pages everyday. At one point of time, this book too shall be over only this time, it will not be the book, but ‘we’ who shall be forgotten.
However brave one may be, it is always very tough to say good- bye and to wish somebody adieu with a smile.
So the next time, you do something for the last time, however big or small the deed may be, cherish it forever in your minds so that when you die your soul is content.
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