A story about walking across the stars (Great personalities) can show you What you should be proud of in life – Yes, the stars did shine that day. There had been no day when they did not. Well, there was no reason for them to not shine, for they were shining beings. Now whatever the scientific connotation be behind this phenomenon of shining, poets would little regard that or they might regard that—it all differs from poet to poet.
He was one such poet, who would like revisiting his past, time and again. Not that he did not move on from what had happened, but he had the desire to go back and see for once, the reason why his world had fallen apart. That day was it when his poems were stolen—that was enough to break him. The only regret he kept in his heart of hearts was that he did not memorize all his poems. Then one day he finally met another poet like him, while passing by the India Gate. He held a pen and was scribbling something on the paper when Detlev met him. At his first sight of the man dressed in semi formals, he was sure that he was an artist. Not that only artists wore semi formals, but in his thoughtful tendencies—artists were carefree and wore anything! They were least bothered about what others were saying about them, well this was what Detlev felt. It need not be true, or maybe it was true for some people. Was it the stereotype? Maybe!
“Sir, do you mind if I ask you some questions?” Detlev asked the man at the first place. The man was sitting cross legged and looked up at Detlev, forming an eye of suspicion about the disposition of this newly found gentleman who had wits enough to come up and ask him a question, which was meant to ask further questions.
“Yes, please? You may ask me as many questions as you like, I am here at your service.” When the man spoke this line, an air of supremacy and success flowered in Detlev’s heart. It felt great solace after a long time, it felt as if rivulets were streaming in his name so highly.
“..W..oah! I am like.. glad that I can ask you questions. So, I would better sit beside you—so that it becomes easy to converse.” Detlev took a seating place next to the man.
What you should be proud of
“What is it that you are trying to scribble? Is it, your lost art that you are trying to curb together into words or some sketch yet again? And if yes, then are you trying to bring that magic back on this notepad, and once you become successful in doing so—would you dance with joy?” The young poet sparked not one, not two but many questions into his excited speech.
“Me? I just write something new. I am going to dedicate it to India Gate, and I would give it to you.”
“But, why would you give it to me Sir? It is yours, isn’t it? It must mean so much to you!” Detlev spoke openly his heart.
“It is, till the time it is in me—and I am expressing it out. Once there on the paper, it belongs to the paper and from the paper to the person who reads it—and for me, it belongs to the India Gate— I told you, isn’t it? I am writing it for this marvellous creation, the war memorial. The artists made this great India Gate, is it theirs? No, it is of this city of Delhi— it belongs to all of us, the residents of Delhi and it belongs to all the tourists who come all the way to pay it a salute and a visit. A salute to all the warriors who lost their lives in war for this great Nation. This writing on my notepad doesn’t belong to me brother. If at all it does, then it is at a time when I read it again or just sing it again, once I complete it. That is about it.”
Detlev kept looking at the shine in his eyes and replied,
I can see stars in your eyes,
they bear the wisdom of the sky,
they bear the wisdom of your sight,
today, I have learnt my greatest lesson,
to be proud of art, and not of losing it.
They stand up and start walking around the India Gate, sharing their thoughts about art and literature.
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