August ends at midnight. September will be the 9th month. Let me narrate a short story.
There was a warrior, old and fragile. With all his lost glories and the meaning of life, he lived. But there was a ray of hope which made him warm even in the coldest of winters. The tree next to his house have given him an analogy of life which deemed so uncertain. The branches and the fruits which the tree bore was like the generation seeded by him. But unlike the tree he lost the fighting spirit.
He felt like a wounded animal, he was defeated whether it be in circles or in squares. Until, he decided to do the unimaginable. He poured mitti ka tel all over his body and set himself on fire. Yes, we read it right, he self immolated himself. What was ailing him? Regrets and more regrets and also Winter was coming bringing along with her all the coldness and sadness.
