Mushtaque B Barq

The Pomegranate Grains

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YESTEREVE, a plate on my writing desk traumatized me for someone by chance had kept it there with eight gleaming grains so luring to eyes and so appealing to taste buds but the scene on the plate was ruinous ,for eighth grain  was pushed to the brim . Out-of-the-way and decomposed, making the plate to look unexciting. It was lifeless and inconsequential. This astounding work of art on the plate was as if beauty was black-and-blue. The grains on the plate started to drop down their wish list, making my night devising a new gratification.

“I wish to be a sip in the goblet of a lawyer for he fights for the cause” said the first grain. Others appreciated the first grain for being so humble and kind. The selection to others appeared impressive and celebrated.

Then another grain spoke and said, “I fancy being a drop in the glass of a teacher for his involvement in building a nation is immense and for his unfathomable input regardless of being so much confronted.” Others much-admired the second grain for showing care and concern to one of the most prized representatives of the society who buffs up the top shell of humanity.

And the  third grain spoke , “ I have my say well open and vivid: my sap will go nowhere but in the mouth of a mother crying in the labor pain to deliver for the sake of world and family, contributing everything, even the life”. All the grains stood up and raised their caps in admiration for selecting a mother for its sap.

And the fourth said, “I long for to be a mouthful for a sweeper who undrains our drains, cleans our filth without complaint, ignores odors and muck” The selection of fourth grain surprised everyone for being keen observer and sympathetic to the down trodden people. All others valued the wish of the grain.

Said the fifth, “I dream to add flavor to the dish of a saint who only lives for the sake of the race, for the upliftment of soul and society, for making life consequential and exploring the mysteries of nature, encouraging the harmony between man and the Lord”. All others save the rotten one clapped for such a selection.

Sixth said, “My grain is for the farmer who digs under sun and shade for the rest of the people and it is he who only stores the grains for the future. A farmer is the one who despite hard work earns less for his hard work and is never weighed in terms of money, so I wish to be his drink”. Again all the grains applauded but the rotten one smiled scornfully.

Sweet seventh said, “My juice is for the orphans who are thrown out in open for none of their slipup, they are the one who need much care for they are both challenged socially and personally”. The selection made everyone alert for the seventh was extolled for being sweet. The rotten one raised his head and devotedly looked at seventh one.

And the eighth spoke, “I have no choice to surrender my grain, since you are all ready to submit for the human race, I will be gland to distribute my grain among you for your noble causes so that I may see myself in everyone”. Every grain smiled and thanked the eighth one for having a better selection. All the grains joined the hands and mock at the rotten one for his stagnation and trifling.

Finally the rotten one spoke, “You all have noble mission at the forefront for serving the human race, but I am insignificant yet I carry greater significance than all of you, all other grains laughed for his claim for significance, the rotten grain continued that I am meant to serve the insects that you all have forgotten, I am meant for decomposers and microorganisms that play a foremost role without claims. you are all ready to serve man who can find ways to make his survival possible for being the crown of the creature, but what about lesser forms of life who too are creatures of the Lord” All the grains dropped their heads and applauded the rotten one and openly declared that being fresh and juicy they are far away from the real juice that lies in the lap of the rotten grain.

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