the story of stories

Tales and stories. A common synonym, mirror for each other. But are they? I hold the belief, I don’t know, perhaps wrongly, that tales end. However, beautiful, righteous, fun they are, they end. Stories don’t. They capture our imaginations, pick at our consciousness and make us question the existence of ourselves day by day. Maybe I’m being too philosophical here, but the truth is that stories, are actually an assortment of human thoughts which are countless, infinite and so to say, immortal. Always dragging us out of our reveries, always flaring our temple, bringing us a change in us so large, we don’t realize.

They may not be true, but then what is truth? The opposite of lies, then what are lies?

In this world of coarse lies and even coarser truths, my mission is simple. Disentangling the threads of the stories that have been woven into the fabric of our civilization since their conscious birth. I wish to extract the mineral of these stories from their dusting ores where they have been starved the light of the day and gangue-d unknowingly. I wish to make my myopic fellow beings see- that their near sightedness has concealed from them the most majestically breathtaking truths of time.

Hail Athena! May her blade of wisdom pierce my soul, Jai Saraswati Maa, may her blessings give me the power to give life to words that will clear the vision of the  ignorant. blurred eyes.


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