UN-RAVEL : The inner strength.....

UN-RAVEL 17....

UN-RAVEL 17....

THE OTHER SIDE.....

Every story has different sides, one yours, other mine and yet another THE TRUTH.
Doesn't means that mine and your story isn't true, it's just that our prospective to see the story is different.
Someone finds a glass half empty and yet other finds the glass half filled. Both are right and just there way to see the water in the glass is different. So what's the truth in this story. Let's analyse that. If the water is poured into the glass and kept till half in that case a person shall say the glass is half filled. If the glass is initially completely filled and half water is poured out of it the relation of water with the glass might be stated as the glass is half empty.

So far we have known about Zamira's prospective somewhat about Manik's too but the story has a yet another prospective, yet another character, Nandani....

NANDANI'S P.O.V....

'My father says those who want power and get it live in terror of loosing it. That's why we have to give power to those who don't want it.'

I read through the leaflets of Veronica Roth's, Divergent. The words sting in my brain. How true these words are not just in term of powers but our inner desires too. Over a course of time there are few lessons that changed me over, one of them being that the life we pursue and spend our entire life chasing might not be the very fit one and the realisation comes only once we find ourselves in our desired life. World has always made us fantasise riches but not every thing rich is very accustoming. There is a fatal truth behind our desires. We look at the perks and pleasantries while what we face are the conundrums and distasteful realities. Time is said to be the great healer but actually time is the greatest teacher of all.

I look at the colourful world of words that I hold in my hands and then turn to look at the grey patterns ripped out of the white washed wall as a smile makes a way to my lips. There is something so beautiful about books. An alternate universe where even if an apocalypse is on the bay, life seems more worthwhile then the one we live where the smallest of troubles causes biggest of haphazard. It's ironic how in our heads we can control even the slightest twisting of lips while in what people call the real world we can't even manage the next breath we take properly. Maybe, that's the beauty as well as hitch of the terrible organ our brain is.

While we can at times stabilize our life on the tip of the pin and at others we can trip on a tiled floor. Life can be exhausting and so can be the ways we decipher to face it.

My life has been a roller coaster not from the day I was born but ever since I entered the most crucial stage of my life. My father, Late Major Adhiraj Murthy was the man of words, with a strict discipline and an honour to our country. He held his head high in the air of a free country. Little did he realise back then that even the air is adulterated. Though his outer contour has been tough for as long as I can remember owing to his chivalry, his heart has been soft always. His merry, playfulness and ardent love and devotion towards his family made him an ideal man. The person I have always looked upto as an inspiration with pride and love radiating through my veins for his impeccable bravery yet humble and down to earth nature. He would craft his free time away. With his wife, my late mother, the beautiful Ravitanya Murthy he had fallen head over heels in love. She was daughter of his senior, Late Brigadier Suryanandan Maheshwari at that time my dad was a captain under him. If chivalry was my father's thy name, gallantry was my maternal grandfather's thy name.

Being the confident self one fine day my father stroke a conversation with his senior though he says that it was too easy my nanu (grandfather) never failed to mention his shaking hands and trembling feet. Oh the laughter we use to burst into and the very pleading face of my father towards his father-in-law was always worth a watch which mom never shrugged away instead she teased my dear dad to no extends. Dad always told us that it was easier to convince nanu then to convince mumma. She was a stubborn, high headed brat that he had fallen in love with. I can never agree more. The truth behind my mother's smile could be both devastating as well as curative. Her past did add shades to her life but she has always been a piece of art. Having lost her mother at a very early age and with a father in army, it was hard for her to keep her worries at bay. She had decided at a very early stage that she would never choose an army officer as her life partner not because she didn't lover her country but knowing that your loved ones were constantly under death's knock made her think things which alot of people would disapprove but I don't, maybe because I have had that luring threat for the maximum part of my childhood. It took dad about fifty letters, twenty two trashed coffee dates and a single blow of anger to make my mother agree. As one fine day along with the last string of his patience, the hell too broke. 'What if the guy you choose also faces death? Because I feel death is inevitable.' He yelled at mom when she brought forward a guy that she introduced as her choice to marry, after being completely annoyed my dad's consistency to win her over. 'At least I wouldn't live under constant threat of loosing my life partner.' Dad had bore his blood shot eyes into mom's pleading ones, 'Go ahead. I though I fell in love with a woman who had power to look fear in it eyes and make it bow, a woman who lived on the edge of cliff guess, I was wrong.' He had burst his anger out on her, pledging to neither bother nor come near her ever again.