There is a small peculiar weed in my garden at home. I call it peculiar because of all the weeds present in there, it was the only one that caught my attention. Talking on phone with my friend, I stamped it with unduly force because I was upset at that time. I kept on rubbing it, a small part of mind disturbed about the fact that It wasn’t getting uprooted by its roots. Finally successful, I stamped on it for the last time and went inside. Two days later when I was roaming aimlessly in the garden, the previous incident flashed across my mind for no reason and just out of curiosity I went back to the same place. I could recognize the place pretty fast as I had scraped out a tiny patch in order to stamp that tiny weed. To my surprise and illogical anger, I found that weed back in place, waving its tiny head merrily in the breeze (this was my imagination...). I felt angry for no reason. I stamped it back again this time with added force. I almost laughed at my stupidity. A small piece of plant nagging my mind. I already had wasted so much of my precious time behind it. I went back inside my home, and this time the incident was still in my memory and my freaky gut-sense said that this wasn’t something that was going to be over soon. The next morning, before I went to the school, I made it a compulsion to check whether that weed has met its end or not. This time there was no disappointment. I had succeeded!! Triumphant I went to the school, my mind very content and full, but my heart somehow didn’t give me peace….
Back at home In the afternoon, I went back into the garden and the sight that my eyes left me dumbstruck. That insignificant weed was back in place, not happy and smiling this time, a bit drooping but still there. A fierce rage struck me and I lifted my foot again but an emotion stronger than rage struck me and I sat there with a thump. I gazed at the poor plant, feeling so ashamed of myself that my eyes filled with tears. They spilled on the earth, the soft soil absorbing my pain, my guilt, my sin…..my cruelty struck me dumb and the emotions that whirl winded around me were staggering. Why was I so intent on stamping the tiny weed to death when it sprouted back again and again with the ardent desire to live??? Why was I so bothered by the existence of the tiny, insignificant plant that had absolutely no connection with my life??? Was I actually so guileless that I was worried about the happiness of the things around me???
And the answers I got were more staggering. It wasn’t other people or people around me I was stamping. It was a part of me and me alone. That part that endlessly tried to have an existence of its own… That part that sprouted back again and again despite my attempts to stamp it to death…… That part that held the softest, most sensitive and most EXPRESSIVE part of me… that part that chose to WRITE its feelings... to tell people how much importance they held in my life… how much they meant for me… but most important of all what writing actually meant to me….
I won’t say more. I have already said a lot. But hopefully the message is reached. I act according to the will of my mind, which is influenced by the people around me. But the will of my heart is elsewhere. Its happiness isn’t merely with flashing teeth and laughing at stupid jokes. And I was stamping out that will. I do succeed sometimes… like I thought I had succeeded in stamping that weed out. But that part grows back, time and again and that budding head trying to come out gives me so much pain. And any amount of external force can’t subside it. Can’t kill it. This is a message to all the people around me who think I write to show-off. Who think I am silly to take English seriously. Who make fun of my poems. Who find out dirty meaning of the lines I write with so much love and passion. I might laugh outwardly with you people, stamping my inner part, but it does come out. And when it does, its in this way……..