The Picnic

The Picnic

Beyond the realms of time and space
On the peak of high wall of barren rocks
In a hut, which requires not, roof and walls
There lives a mother with her children.
Deep down, in the valley, there is a garden
A garden of rosebush, full of roses and thorns.
Everyday morning she takes them to the garden
Down the slopes, children run fast in the excitement
The excitement and joy of the day of picnic ahead.
At the gate of the garden, she adjures them all,
To be careful, to be in order, to enjoy and to come back in time.
Then she opens the gate and let every child in
And shouts, “have a nice picnic my children”
Staying out, she sits calmly, the gate is closed again.
Garden is full of blooming roses charming the kids
And long sharp thorns, hidden to eyes.
They all rush to the roses.
Some are cautious and remain in order
They move around in pleasure,
Pick and smell beautiful roses, avoiding thorns
They enjoy the day and go out when the gate is opened again
Heart full of desire to stay more, but they move out.
Some are full of mess, in a hurry to pick more
They are pricked by thorns and filled with pain
They pick some roses but lose them and are left with pain
The gate opens and they go out in agony of a bad day.
Some are trapped in scuffle to win more roses
The losers jump out crying and go to the mother
She consoles them and keep them with her
The winners are also injured and gain little
Most part of day lost in fights,
They also come out thirsty and dejected
Some try to remain there as long as they can
When every one is going out, they hide among bushes
To stay longer, to enjoy longer.
But it is dark now, no use staying any longer
They cannot find the way and suffer thorns even more now
And they also come out.
A child clings to the mother and ask to name the picnic
And she replies placidly
“THE LIFE”
It’s over, line up now, we have to go back, yells mother.
Back to their hut, beyond the realms of time and space.
The garden offers roses to all
Those who are prudent and remain in order,
They enjoy it most, rest suffer and blame
Tired, sad, excited and full of joy
All move upward.

By – Nakshatra Singh

PS : Life is a journey to rosebush garden. The prudent ones enjoy the roses and the rest suffer. We must try to live a life full of balance and prudence to make it a journey to roses.