Trying to tell a story

It’s hard to tell a story. It is even harder to tell it with utmost honesty. And it’s the hardest to do justice to all the characters while doing it.

There are people who like to tell stories like your parents and grandparents when you are going to bed. There are people who will just give you the ending and tell you what happened. And then there are the writers, who pave the picture of the scene so nicely, that you can imagine being there and watching the story go on.

I wish I was a writer. I wish I could do that. Because I have so many stories to tell, but I don’t know how. I don’t think I can do justice to the mood that is captured in every scene. I can’t bring the emotions that make the story so special and captivating. I can’t make the reader feel lost… even though the story is very clear in my head.

Everyone has a story of their own. I do too. I want to write my last 5 years down and keep all the moments safe somewhere on paper, not just in my memory. I want to go back and read them when I want to, so that when I am old and not very good with long term memory, I can re-live them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have a story. My story begins with a girl who came to a foreign land with hopes and dreams of being the son, her Indian parents never had. 19th September 2005 was the day when she flew for the first time. Her parents drove her to the airport and her mom tried to control her tears on the way. Her dad was hoping she would be fine, because this is not what he wanted for her. He wanted her to stay and go to the best school in India. But she was stubborn, and she wanted to go.

The airport was full with people saying good byes. Hugging each other. Exchanging last words. Her mom held her and did not cry because she knew she had to be strong. Her father just said, “take care.” Her sister was not sure what to do, she was going to be alone in her room now. She will miss the fights and the arguments.

The girl passed through the security check point and looked back. Her parents were still standing refusing to leave. They said they can’t leave till she boards. She could see her mother cry. She did not know when she would come back to see them. It was a one way ticket. A hard earned one way ticket.

She kept on walking towards her gate, and saw the image of her parents fading away. She knew they were still there. She knew her mother won’t leave till she can believe her daughter is gone. She would stand there and wish she could see her child again. Because then, she did not know how was it to not see her for months.

The daughter got busy with her friends. Waited to board the flight. But she knew some where, her mother was still outside. Waiting to see her again.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was a story… I don’t think I did a good job., but I still tried to tell it :))