The Rock - A short Story

A little girl went up the hill on a vacation, accompanied by her  parents. The road trailed  a river flowing  down the hills. Further and further they drove along the narrow road, As they went along, the river became narrower and faster. The traffic became rarer and the gradients steeper.  The naughty gurgling of the river,  replacing the sounds of traffic.  Clear water eagerly seeking it's destination downstream.

As their car stopped for a break the little girl ventured tenaciously, ankle deep into the water. The floor of the river was covered by small pebbles and rocks, all of them rounded perfectly into oval and circular shapes, small and large, some a bit flat, some perfectly round. But all of them rubbed smoother than the little girl’s skin. They lay there uncounted and unrecognised multitudes of them in various shapes. Some of them goaded by the river to continue their roll down the river, others resting firmly on the river bed, only till the time the river again gets impatient and angry to keep them moving downstream.

The rocks came in all colours, pale yellow, snow white, amber, grey and black, contended they lay there in shallow water wet as though from perspiration from their hard journey.

The little girl picked up a few small pebbles and carefully put them her pocket. Then she saw a unique rounded rock. Larger than the others,  this one looked different, looked royal for a stone, part of it translucent, rest of it white as a lily. Rounded like a smiley, it had dimples too.  It was large for her pocket. Something she would have to lift up with both hands. With great effort she lifted it up and carried it back to the car trunk, she knew her father would never allow her to carry home such a large rock, so quietly she hid the rock behind some rags in the boot.

Soon the rock was out of her mind. Back in town, a few days later, her father was driving home through a desolate stretch, when the car got a flat tyre. He started to take out the spare tyre when he discovered the rock. Oh! He exclaimed.  “Where did this come from ?”. Not know for his sensibilities for finer things in life, he could not find anything unique in the rock, he flung the rock into the wasted terrain.

There the rock lay, among other boulders, different from the rest shining in the moonlight, feeling oh! so out of place. It had felt so suffocated sitting in the trunk, and breathed easy now under the moonlit sky. It was about to doze off when a nudge woke it up. Hey wake up! came a voice. The rock opened its eyes, it was the large boulder lying next to it. "Where did you come here from, how come you are so beautiful and fair, shining in the moonlight like no one I have seen doing. You have dimples on your face too, who made you so beautiful, tell us, how can we too become extraordinary like you" exclaimed the boulder.

"Hey large one" replied the rock, the shine that you see in my face is not a shine but a fatigue which has come from years of getting my face rubbed against sand and water, my fairness due to repeated bruises to my face,  the rounded profile that you see is the result of long years of journey from high up in the hills, tumbling down to unknown lands not knowing where the next moment will take me to. I am small because I started out as large as you, but years of giving back to nature, has made me small and shrivelled.  The sheen that you see is something which has come from great turmoil and tempest. The joy you behold is because I know I escaped the stone crusher down stream who collects us all to prepare gravel for the  roads. The contentment is knowing the fact that it can't get worse than this.

Oh! Sighed the boulder. "You mean to say one can succeed only with turmoil? "

No, each one has his own path, exclaimed the rock. "But success comes after great perseverance and entails as much giving away as it denotes acquisition. The journey is defined, successes assured for someone who stays on and believes in oneself. The sheen comes naturally, because it is the sign of the journey. So hey large one, don't lose heart. You look dark, but you are a  strong granite, someone will come to chisel you, convert you into a god figure. People shall worship you, people will repose their faith upon you. They will never realise the tough path you have endured to attain godliness, the pain of being chiselled with an iron, the turmoil of being shaped like the way the world wants to see you.

So bide your time hey large one, such is the journey of Life " whispered the rock.