A Story

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of happiness, there lived a king. The king had a huge empire of thousands of people: soldiers, peasants, clerks and women. But there were no servants. The king was kind. He took taxes from people and used them for their benefits. Everybody was very happy in his large empire. The world envied him and his people for their prosperity and happiness. Still, he had no enemies and his people felt safe under his rule.

The king was not very rich. He had a lot of money, but he had a lot many more people to take care of: People speaking different languages, following different faiths and doing different jobs. But they were largely happy, except for their money. Because they didn’t have much money. So, they valued it. They worked hard – day and night – to support their little families and were still happy with whatever little they had.

Somewhere in the kingdom of happiness, there was a small peasant who worked for the king. He had a small family, a wife and a son. He was a proud man and so he didn’t take anybody’s help for supporting his family. He took loans from the king and worked hard to repay them at the earliest. His wife supported him in his effort of bringing happiness to their little family and their only son. They were happy, if not rich.

Days went by and the kingdom flourished. The peasant had saved an appreciable amount of money to buy gifts for his woman and child. The son was his parents’ most priced possession and they both loved him. He was bright, but a little lazy.

Then one day, it came. A big, large cloud which brought darkness with it. There were rains. At first people laughed because they thought it was the usual time to dance and celebrate. Little did they knew that somebody else was laughing at them.

The rains soon became torrential rains, which then became floods. The entire kingdom was submerged. The king’s people were scared. The king was frightened. But he was a fighter and he knew he had to fight now. For his people. He took to his feet and walked to his people, looking at them and instructing his ministers to help them. He saw the sorrow and his fright became his fear. He saw the dead, and his fear became a reality. He had lost. But he was a fighter and he would fight again.

He saw a young boy sitting by street, looking at the ground, dazed and unhappy. “What happened, my boy?” The king asked. “I don’t see my father! I don’t see my mother! I don’t see my house! Perhaps I’m lost.” replied the young boy. “Do you know where my parents are? Do you know where my house is?”

He knew. They were lost. Forever. The young boy was indeed lost. He had no place to stay. He had no father to turn up to for advice. His mother would not wait for dinner with him no longer. He was an orphan. He had to take care of himself on his own. He had to find a way for his life. He had to do it. Alone. He had to write his destiny. He knew his destination, he just didn’t know which way it was.

Perhaps this was in his destiny. Many years ago, the last king of the kingdom had found a young boy whose father was a brave soldier. He fought for the king and laid his life for his people. But he could not be the father to his son. And so, the king kept the bright kid with him. Today, years later, the kid, much older now, was in the shoes of his godfather. He had to make the right decision now. He had to find his Protégé. And he had just found him.

And so the king took the young boy with him to his palace. He taught him to ride a horse. He taught him to fight the enemy. He taught him to become a responsible administrator. He taught him to love and be loved by his people. He taught him to be the king, because that was his destiny. They revived their kingdom. They brought happiness back in their country. They made it prosperous and richer. Richer and happier than ever.

But happiness never lasts forever. The villain came from the west and attacked. He wanted the land. He wanted the money. But he didn’t want the people. He had nothing to do with the happiness. He killed the brave soldiers. Then he killed the citizens who fought him. Then he killed the king. But not before the brave king’s people had wounded his army and made the villain more vulnerable than before.

And then he came, the king’s godson. Still in his teens, he fought like he’d been there all the time. He fought with courage and strategy. He did what his king had asked him. He found the light at the end of the tunnel. He held his bow high with one hand and put his arrow between the fingers of his other hand. Wounded and critically hurt, he had just one chance. To save his people. To bring peace back to his country. To live his dream. Because his king taught him to be a fighter. Fighters are not defeated when they lose. Fighters are defeated when they quit. And he was no quitter.

With a jerk of his thumb he let his arrow go to its destination. It was bull’s eye. The villain of west was dead at his feet. His army was running back to the west. He stood there, among his people. Most of them were dead. Others were injured. But all of them were heroes. He remembered the day when his king had found him on the street. It was a lot like today, he thought. Dead people around him made him scared. But something was different. What was it?

He was looking at the sky wondering what was different. His mind was occupied with the many deaths he had witnessed. He had to bring the king’s empire to life again. He had to fight, because that’s what his king had taught him. He had to love his people and be loved by them. He had to make money. Most importantly, he had to bring happiness back to the king’s kingdom. He was still looking at the sky when it struck him. The difference! The difference was that we was looking at the sky. He had his head held high. The inevitable had happened and he was waking up to it.

He had just found the way he was looking for all his life. He had written his destiny. And he knew that the kingdom of happiness had just got a new king.


This blog, just like its author, will find its way on its own.

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