Monday, December 10, 2007

The Storyteller

The magic would begin every evening.

Every evening he would transport me into a world of monsters and magicians and princesses and genies. He would paint the brilliant colors of fantasy, bringing the magic alive with his words, his expressions, his unique narration. He would build the suspense until my bedtime and leave it hanging , so that I spent the day impatiently awaiting the evening to hear the next part of the story. And he never disappointed me. Every night I dreamt of those magical characters in his stories that were so alive and so vivid, every day I wondered what would happen next. I did not realise then that he was teaching me much through his stories, I saw only the colors, not the messages he had weaved into them.

Those are the most brilliant memories of my childhood: the monsters and the princes of those stories more real in my memory than the events of those days. My brother was gifted: his words had magic, not just in bringing images to life, but in sharing, in caring, in bringing laughter and warmth into people's lives.

As I grew up, those story nights passed, and he showed me other worlds and ideas. He taught me the fascination of palmistry, he shared my interest in books, music, electronic gadgets and computers. He listened and advised me as I stepped into my adolescent days; I admired him with all the intensity of a shy, awkward teenager for a confident, popular and beloved brother. I thought that there was nothing and no one he could not win over: he could speak to a beggar or a prince with equal ease. And he did !

My brother taught me about courage, love, sacrifice, relationships: through his stories, through his life. He taught me about how to live life with laughter , no matter how difficult the circumstances. He taught me what it means to win, what it means to care. He taught me how to live.

And now he is gone.

I can cry out against the injustice of a cruelly interrupted life, I can despair, I can weep: but that would have broken every lesson that I learnt from my favourite brother. I can only remember what he told me when I spoke to him last--"I am always a winner!"

"Yes you are", I want to tell him. Because he is still with me, with each one of the us he touched with his special magic. With laughter, with happiness. In every story I tell, he will be my storyteller.

But I know he knows.


At December 12, 2007 4:50 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yes, you are right! He always was the winner, with an illustrious life.. ! He was a beautiful flower which was plucked by HIM before it was fully bloomed!!

A darling to all, the magical spell he possessed , charmed one and all and made an impression in others life , whomever he met in this short span of life. And he surprised everybody.., even in his crisis, with his personal magic and courage without even an iota of grief but always with his usual, mesmorising smile on his face and ever inspiring postive attitude!!

Yes, He won again and surprised us by rushing to his permanent abode, in a split second,..smiling and laughing as usual!! Leaving all of us to be the losers ....!! Still wondering if it is a bad dream..and Just cannot imagine that we lost him forever..!! Nevertheless he will live in our heart for ever!!

At December 12, 2007 10:17 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Ki marke bhi kisiko yaad aayenge...
Kisike aansuon mein musuraayenge...
Jeena isi ka naam hein..."


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