SHORT STORY:
THROUGH THE MILES OF LIFE...
...the journey to stardom
“If time were the distance I have walked through life,
How many miles have I walked from home?
How many miles from those blissful days,
From those people I called my own?”
...And the crowd would roar in applause. They loved it. They loved
everything I did. They loved me. So many of them say they live just to
scream my name. My face adorns enough of shelves, diaries, walls, and
of course hearts; my words- enough of last pages of notebooks,
facebook statuses and great speeches. Yes, this was my life. This is
what I had worked for. I have made sacrifices- “paid the prices” as
they say. I have given up on much to reach here- so much that I
sometimes wonder if it was really worth it all.
People had told me long enough to make use of my writing skills, but
I bet none of them had expected me to become anything more than a
shabby man with over-grown hair and beard, wandering with a very lost
and lonely expression; at least none of them could have possibly
expected me to become the country’s most popular rap-singer. I loved
what I did. I was passionate about it. I was addicted to the fame I
enjoyed. To have a crowd of fifty thousand people yelling your name,
to watch them all go crazy for you, what could possibly feel better
than that?
I had it all today. Everything I had worked so hard for. Everything I
could have asked of life. I had all the money, I feasted at the most
expensive places, I wrote the best songs, had been given the greatest
titles, and had many who envied me, or wanted to live my life for at
least a day. Little did they know that I had earned it, that I had
paid prices. It is an expensive world. Everything comes for a price.
You pay heavily for the ‘big dreams’ you dare to dream. Perhaps I had
paid my price in miles-all those miles I had walked from my people,
from that home I would never go back to...
“That world of sheer innocence and joy,
Where the skies poured warmth and love,
Where little moments brought so much joy,
Like blessings from heaven above.”
Yes, I once had a family, friends, and a world that sustained itself
on love. My friends then were not like the ones I have now. No, they
did not drink the most expensive wine, or own branded wardrobes, they
just owned the shoulders I had cried on, they did not have the best
table manners, they only did not mind doing funny if it made me feel
better, they had tried guiding me through the right path, but been
with me through the wrong ones, just as good, they fought over petty
roadside bills. What was it that made that Maggie and tea more special
than these lavish meals? What was it that made those ordinary bikes
more thrilling than my sports car? I felt sick in the stomach the more
I thought of them. I wanted to go back through all those miles of
time, and relive all those times, to laugh the way I had not laughed
for years, to cry, and be made fun of, and then laugh again...
“Miles of days, miles of nights, So far away from you,
Miles of love, miles of fights, miles of
emotions true,
Miles away, in a world of jazz, so bright
in every way
You hardly see the bright lights blinding
you day by day.”
I had enough of fans. Girls who went crazy when they heard my name,
girls who filled their diaries and hearts with my photographs, so many
of them who wanted to have me more than they could keep, those who
waited for hours to catch a glimpse of me, one or two who had cut
their wrists and got my name tattooed on their bodies. She would never
do any of it for me. She wouldn’t throw those roses at my feet or
collect all her pocket money to attend my concerts. Yet, she still
held some strings that strangled my heart each time I thought of her.
I can’t reason that authority her memories still have over me. I
cannot understand why my heart suddenly feels heavy at that thought.
Perhaps it was all the ‘little things’ she did, the little moments she
made special, perhaps it was just the way she could make me feel like
a star without any of this stardom, perhaps it was her faith in me
through my failure, perhaps it was all her attempts to hold on while I
treated her wrong, her wanting to be there for me even after I had let
her down so many times, her trust in me while I lied to her and
cheated on her, all in the name of fun; perhaps, it was only guilt....
I read on...
“But when the curtains close,
And silence fills the world of screams,
I set out in search of that lost Home
In a distant land of dreams.”
I stared for some time, at the fading world I could see through the
paper, and then thought about how much they were going to love it, how
much more they would want, how the place would be filled with
“Encore”, and how they would sing it all with me, hooting, yelling,
clapping, waving. I smiled to myself, at their ignorance. Who could
ever imagine, how much I meant it? Who could fathom from what depths I
was pouring out these words, and why I sang it so fast, or how much
was missing in this perfect life? Who would ever want to try to know
what happened after the curtains closed, after the blinding lights
were turned off...
- ARTI RAJAN
1st CEP
1313147
THROUGH THE MILES OF LIFE...
...the journey to stardom
“If time were the distance I have walked through life,
How many miles have I walked from home?
How many miles from those blissful days,
From those people I called my own?”
...And the crowd would roar in applause. They loved it. They loved
everything I did. They loved me. So many of them say they live just to
scream my name. My face adorns enough of shelves, diaries, walls, and
of course hearts; my words- enough of last pages of notebooks,
facebook statuses and great speeches. Yes, this was my life. This is
what I had worked for. I have made sacrifices- “paid the prices” as
they say. I have given up on much to reach here- so much that I
sometimes wonder if it was really worth it all.
People had told me long enough to make use of my writing skills, but
I bet none of them had expected me to become anything more than a
shabby man with over-grown hair and beard, wandering with a very lost
and lonely expression; at least none of them could have possibly
expected me to become the country’s most popular rap-singer. I loved
what I did. I was passionate about it. I was addicted to the fame I
enjoyed. To have a crowd of fifty thousand people yelling your name,
to watch them all go crazy for you, what could possibly feel better
than that?
I had it all today. Everything I had worked so hard for. Everything I
could have asked of life. I had all the money, I feasted at the most
expensive places, I wrote the best songs, had been given the greatest
titles, and had many who envied me, or wanted to live my life for at
least a day. Little did they know that I had earned it, that I had
paid prices. It is an expensive world. Everything comes for a price.
You pay heavily for the ‘big dreams’ you dare to dream. Perhaps I had
paid my price in miles-all those miles I had walked from my people,
from that home I would never go back to...
“That world of sheer innocence and joy,
Where the skies poured warmth and love,
Where little moments brought so much joy,
Like blessings from heaven above.”
Yes, I once had a family, friends, and a world that sustained itself
on love. My friends then were not like the ones I have now. No, they
did not drink the most expensive wine, or own branded wardrobes, they
just owned the shoulders I had cried on, they did not have the best
table manners, they only did not mind doing funny if it made me feel
better, they had tried guiding me through the right path, but been
with me through the wrong ones, just as good, they fought over petty
roadside bills. What was it that made that Maggie and tea more special
than these lavish meals? What was it that made those ordinary bikes
more thrilling than my sports car? I felt sick in the stomach the more
I thought of them. I wanted to go back through all those miles of
time, and relive all those times, to laugh the way I had not laughed
for years, to cry, and be made fun of, and then laugh again...
“Miles of days, miles of nights, So far away from you,
Miles of love, miles of fights, miles of
emotions true,
Miles away, in a world of jazz, so bright
in every way
You hardly see the bright lights blinding
you day by day.”
I had enough of fans. Girls who went crazy when they heard my name,
girls who filled their diaries and hearts with my photographs, so many
of them who wanted to have me more than they could keep, those who
waited for hours to catch a glimpse of me, one or two who had cut
their wrists and got my name tattooed on their bodies. She would never
do any of it for me. She wouldn’t throw those roses at my feet or
collect all her pocket money to attend my concerts. Yet, she still
held some strings that strangled my heart each time I thought of her.
I can’t reason that authority her memories still have over me. I
cannot understand why my heart suddenly feels heavy at that thought.
Perhaps it was all the ‘little things’ she did, the little moments she
made special, perhaps it was just the way she could make me feel like
a star without any of this stardom, perhaps it was her faith in me
through my failure, perhaps it was all her attempts to hold on while I
treated her wrong, her wanting to be there for me even after I had let
her down so many times, her trust in me while I lied to her and
cheated on her, all in the name of fun; perhaps, it was only guilt....
I read on...
“But when the curtains close,
And silence fills the world of screams,
I set out in search of that lost Home
In a distant land of dreams.”
I stared for some time, at the fading world I could see through the
paper, and then thought about how much they were going to love it, how
much more they would want, how the place would be filled with
“Encore”, and how they would sing it all with me, hooting, yelling,
clapping, waving. I smiled to myself, at their ignorance. Who could
ever imagine, how much I meant it? Who could fathom from what depths I
was pouring out these words, and why I sang it so fast, or how much
was missing in this perfect life? Who would ever want to try to know
what happened after the curtains closed, after the blinding lights
were turned off...
- ARTI RAJAN
1st CEP
1313147
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