Life Is Beautiful
by Prashant Dhanke
I might die soon.
You put this life into me. Looking at my picture, you painted stories filled with a thousand emotions; each with a different shade. In doing so, you wove the fabric of my soul.
I learnt your ways, saw the amused face of a toddler as he rode me, heard the sweet nothings of the couples as they held hands and stood closely on me, felt the furry feet of a poodle and smelt the stinking shoes.
Talking of shoes, you are right in judging a man by his shoes. As for the women, yes, it’s hard to understand them by any means; so I watch the up-skirts instead.
It’s been fun which, I am afraid, is going to end when you stop creating fantasies based on the photograph. Your ripe imagination is my blood. It did hurt me that your protagonist was always the lad in jeans. He tricked you with his pose; I am a downward moving escalator. I forgive you though; so often you turn blind eye to your own race.
Next time when you use me, just run your fingers on my sides and say “Hello”; I’ll take you down gently if I could feel that. To my right you’ll see a staircase. I see my mother in her. She shares my burden without a word. And would you please drop a red rose in that lift to the front. Tell her that I loved the way she moves.
Isn’t life beautiful!