The boat

My voice dripping its pace and I heard the very familiar smell of childhood, the streaming water under my feet. The confidence of arrival of good news was as approved as it was appearing to me. The water was splashing its winter saga and that night it was finding its mate to communicate. There was so much restlessness in the sea shore and my anxiety grew with overwhelming pace, I was giving thoughts to few of my old memories and how it could be turned off.
Suddenly something drew my attention over. Strikes of a wooden stick on the sand were appearing to be washed off with genres of water, the ocean came and wiped it but the strikes were made again. A seven years old kid trying to write his names on the sand was trying to leave a mark but every time the tide came and took them with it.
To prove me wrong he wrote something in Kannada on that sand.
‘ What are you trying to do’
‘ I am sending a message’
‘To who?’ interrogated me
‘My father, he has been into the sea since a month, he went there to feed us few bucks of fish’
I understand this how important those messages would be for him and I was confident about his strength and belief. How often do we waste our thoughts in anger and rage while a part of the world nearer to the talking nature knows how to generate love.

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