The Boy Who Loved Making Walls

Once there lived a boy who loved making walls. He was quite adept at mixing mortar, sand, clay, and water to create the perfect blend. He was so skilful at handling bricks, marble slabs and stones that people used t0 spend hours watching him work. Throngs of people used to gather around him to see his thin fingers gradually build a massive wall.

The boy knew that he possessed an extraordinary talent and so one day he decided to make the strongest and the most beautiful wall ever made. For this he planned for days and analyzed even minute details. He travelled all the way to the Far-Away Kingdom to get the finest marble chips available in the country. He even hitchhiked into the perilous Sandy Desert to get the best quality of sand and clay. For the water supply, he chose the most holy Sacred River. Thus with everything arranged, he soon started working on the most ambitious venture of his life.

Even before he had poured the first few drops of Sacred Water onto the sand, a crowd had already gathered round him. The crowd comprised of people from all sections of the society- the young and the old, the rich and the poor, farmers and clerks, and the good and the evil. Even a few birds were watching silently, perched on the boughs of the nearby tree. The crowd reveled in excitement as the boy mixed viciously the mortar-paste with gravel and marble-chips. The boy then started piling the bricks that he had brought from Brick land and pasting them with his final blend. People looked with their eyes and mouths wide open as he made layers upon layers. The crowd kept swelling up. But even though the crowd contained such a large number of tongues, not a word was whispered.

This utter silence was broken by a sweet shrill voice of a child who stood in the front row along with his father.

β€œBaba, why doesn’t he make bridges instead of walls?” He asked his father.

Everyone looked up; even the boy raised his head and eyes. A murmur ran across the entire crowd. The boy looked at the child with a pitiless expression in his eyes. The father of the child blushed with embarrassment. He shouted at his lad, β€œKeep shut.”

The boy shook his head in indifference and started working once more at the wall that was rising beautifully like a mountain with every layer of bricks and plaster. Once more the same silence came back. People were amazed at the beauty of the wall and wondered at its height. The boy kept piling up layers on layers.

Now, the wall was almost complete but for a layer. The boy piled up the last layer with extra caution. Now, he was just one brick away from his dream. He picked up the last brick and shoved it at its proper place. He then took a sigh of relief. His dream stood right before him.

The moment that he had anticipated so much had finally come. He wanted to see the wild look in people’s eyes and relish the knowledge that he was the cause of that excitement and awe. So he turned back to glance at the crowd. A shudder ran through his heart. He turned round again. Another shudder ran down his spine. Big drops of sweat started forming on his broad forehead. He turned round and round again. He kept turning until he felt dizzy and fell down on the ground. He had built the strongest and the most beautiful wall around himself.

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About Zeeshan

We are the twinkle in the eyes of oblivion.

13 comments

  1. anirudh

    typical zee style . . .

  2. Simple, subtle and sublime …. loved it bro πŸ˜€

  3. lovely narration…nice work with the metaphor… πŸ™‚

    • zee

      thanx Rinaya and welcome too. feels good to know that a blogger like you likes it ( yes, i have already read a few of your posts :p ) πŸ™‚

  4. Mashroor

    Abey kabhi kuch acchha happy happy likha kar!!! Senti ho itne!!!!

  5. Well i presume it has a lot of depth and shows your maturity…..specially loved the line β€œBaba, why doesn’t he make bridges instead of walls?” lot of thoughts came to my mind after reading it….which inshaAllah i shall tell u later…..n the end was superb…..truly a genius…from the pen of “the boy who loved writing”

  6. Great..great write…sucha contemplating one…and you’re a wonderful story teller…you make me miss Khaled hosseini more esp. after reading this one πŸ™‚

    • zee

      Well, this is by far one of the most wonderful comments I have received. Thanks a zillion times man. But of course I know there are miles to go before I reach the ‘Khaled Hosseini” level. But still it means a lot. πŸ™‚ And yes , you are most welcome to my blog. tc.

  7. Pingback: Q & A « THE RUNE OF SELF

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