The Room

(Originally 17th September 2:28pm)

It was a huge room. But the owner decided not to rent it out.

It was enormous, and the far wall never really seemed to be in sight. But still the owner never rented it out.

He spent countless hours and toiled oceans of sweat, planning and designing how this room would look.

He bled rivers of blood and calloused his hands, building and decorating this room to how he had hoped it to be.

Along the road of beautifying this room, many obstacles came in his way. Through all the spills, knocks and scratches, he slowly, patiently but surely, repairs every inch, nook and cranny.

And with every ounce of energy, he was dedicated, committed and driven, to make this room as perfect as he could.

But never once, did he feel that this room was too big, and never once did he ever wanted to rent this room out.

Pictures came in, furniture and lights. Bit by bit, life was breathed into this room, and despite it’s vastness, life was the wind that blows through this room.

In fact, along the way, many a time, the room actually grew. He decided that it still wasn’t big enough, and he bought the next unit, and the next, and the next and knocked down all the walls. The room grew, still never big enough, but still, never ever rented.

With every new slice of area, he was breeding a growing zeal to beautify it further. Perhaps a relaxing sofa, a comfortable bed or a bright TV. And still, he would go back to the earlier slices, ever touching it up further.

It was a room fit for a king. No, it was really a room for an angel.

But still, he never felt that it would be good enough, nor would it ever be big enough.

Suddenly one day, the worst freak of nature happened. The twist of fate, so evil, burnt the humoungous room. Every single inch got burned. And that angel flew away in terror.

The horror he felt. The agony that wrenched everything in him. Every single drop of blood and sweat put into that room evaporated. And he cried.

His tears flowed stronger than the Niagara falls. His tears washed the fire out.

Now what’s left is an empty room. Blackened.

Disillusioned, shaken and broken, he looks at the room he had held so dear. And he sat down in his tears and took a short break.

Picking up a shovel, he begins scraping and clearing the room.

For he has decided, the angel still deserves this room, and he’ll build it again. The time will be enormous, the work will be unrelenting and the feelings will be unsympathetic, but surely he’ll build it again.

But hopefully, that angel would know, and find her way back.