He worked in assiduous contentment because he knew would his thoughts be embittered, it would be unlikely he shall come here again. Rawat was a hard working young man, only cursed to be fickle. A gypsy, he traversed the dry earths on a quest to find what he truly desired. He danced in one town and sang in the other, he built in one town and sculpted in another. Growing weary of his uneasy/unstable state of mind, Rawat eventually collapsed into perpetual despondency and after all these years finally established base in this place called, Home. He forced himself to alleviate his misery, which worked but not in its entirety. I believed he was happy, they believed he was happy but there was someone from whom he just couldn’t veil his happiness. He tried and tried and threatened and tried but he was never able to look away from his gloom.

With every waking day he believed he was encroaching mildly into the vastness of the dark. Rawat, once a young spirited chap had now metamorphosed into this sad dejected excuse of a human being. I will proceed now, to sail you through the story of his misfortunes. In his years as a multi faceted gypsy, Rawat climbed mountains, swam across oceans, broke his bones a considerable number of times, performed black magic and so on. His travels took him far and wide, till the day he met her. A vision of pure, wondrous magic met his eyes and he wasn’t able to look away. Carved delicately into the white limestone, his eyes whizzed with rapt adoration through the curves of her silhouette. She was a goddess of beauty unceasing, only cursed to live forever as a statue. She watched him curiously as his audacious eyes devoured her. He extended his fingers to touch her creamy curls, and no sooner had he laid his first finger on her, she sailed out of the white wall.


They say that the touch of true love frees you, and so she was. And they say a meeting with the vain crumbles you, and so he was, cursed never again to be fickle.


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