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    He Saw Music Dance & Other Stories
    He Saw Music Dance & Other Stories
    He Saw Music Dance & Other Stories
    Ebook110 pages1 hour

    He Saw Music Dance & Other Stories

    By Raja Sharma

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    About this ebook

    Despite all this, he felt that something was missing. He had thought words, produced words, arranged words, and created wonderful stories for his millions of readers but the very thing which he wanted to happen in his life was missing.

    That evening, while he was driving home from the house of his beloved, Madhuri, a beautiful unmarried woman of about forty, he was thinking about his wife and children. Madhuri had written her life in his name, for she had refused to marry, though hundreds of rich and handsome suitors had tried to woo her but she was the one who wanted to remain submerged in the stories written by him. She wanted to see her happiness in his happiness.

    He had passed two score years of his life and he was nearing fifty, physically tired and almost helpless when it came to doing the works which required physical strength. However, his mind was getting sharper day by day and the stories which he produced gave more delight to his fans and they eagerly waited for his new ones.

    He Wrote His Way Out
    Tragic Love
    He Saw Music Dance
    Unreasonable Guilt
    She Ambled into my Life
    Chapter One
    Chapter Two
    Wings of Smiles
    Back to Social Cage
    Cursed Existence
    Unfathomable
    Unrealized Ambitions
    World of Little Gods
    She Lives Among Stars
    Dilemma Faced by an English Teacher
    You call it Progress?
    Mirage
    Subway Treasure
    Remove Your Thorns
    Information

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRaja Sharma
    Release dateAug 11, 2011
    ISBN9781466152267
    He Saw Music Dance & Other Stories
    Author

    Raja Sharma

    Raja Sharma is a retired college lecturer.He has taught English Literature to University students for more than two decades.His students are scattered all over the world, and it is noticeable that he is in contact with more than ninety thousand of his students.

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      Book preview

      He Saw Music Dance & Other Stories - Raja Sharma

      He Saw Music Dance & Other Stories

      By Raja Sharma

      Copyright@2011Raja Sharma

      Smashwords Edition

      Chapter 1

      He Wrote His Way Out

      He had achieved all that a person aspires for on his way to success: name, fame, money, wife, children, a big bungalow, three cars, and fat bank balance. Despite all this, he felt that something was missing. He had thought words, produced words, arranged words, and created wonderful stories for his millions of readers but the very thing which he wanted to happen in his life was missing.

      That evening, while he was driving home from the house of his beloved, Madhuri, a beautiful unmarried woman of about forty, he was thinking about his wife and children. Madhuri had written her life in his name, for she had refused to marry, though hundreds of rich and handsome suitors had tried to woo her but she was the one who wanted to remain submerged in the stories written by him. She wanted to see her happiness in his happiness.

      He had passed two score years of his life and he was nearing fifty, physically tired and almost helpless when it came to doing the works which required physical strength. However, his mind was getting sharper day by day and the stories which he produced gave more delight to his fans and they eagerly waited for his new ones.

      No one was there to greet him when he stopped his car in the porch and ascended the steps leading to the main door. He knew that his son would be somewhere in night clubs, drinking away his hard earned money, and his wife and daughters would be lost in the world of their chatting and talking about people, or watching television. His old parents would be soundly asleep in their room on the first floor.

      He threw his coat on the sofa in the drawing room and moved towards the bar. He poured himself a large drink and swallowed it in one gulp. Drink was the only consolation which took him away for a little while from the world of turmoil he was living in. It was past midnight. He collapsed in the sofa and switched on the TV; he changed a few channels but nothing pleased him; he brought his laptop from his study and began to create the plot for his new story. He had promised his publisher that he would be giving them two new stories the following week.

      Hardly had he typed a few hundred words, when he felt heaviness in his chest; he drank water but nothing changed. The heaviness changed into pain and he fell on to the floor.

      He tried to peer in the dimly lit room; he found his body lying on the floor; he was floating in the air. Obviously surprised and confused, he looked at his body once again. His eyes were closed and there was no moment in his body. He tried to enter his body but he failed. He felt light and free, as if he was in a world where he would not be dominated by his physical senses. He turned back and saw a strange light behind his head. A voice informed him, You have little time. You must be ready for the journey. We have to go away from this place.

      He tried to speak but words did not emanate in any audible form. Suddenly, he felt he was drifting along the path that led him backwards. He was a little child, holding his father’s finger, going to school. Then he saw he was a young man. His mother and father were talking about his marriage. His wife was a good woman, if not wonderful and there was nothing wrong in his married life. His son’s birth was a grand occasion and after the arrival of his daughters the house was complete. Success, as if, was waiting for him. He got rich and bought a big bungalow.

      He saw his beloved, his Madhuri, who was the only one who shared his delights and sorrows if there were any. She had loved him for about two decades but he had not been able to give her anything else besides sweet words and suggestions. She had refused to marry and she was happy with the way life was facing her. He visited her at least twice in a week and talked for hours with her, mostly about people, the world, relationships, and tragedies in the lives of the people. She consoled him: listened to him, understood him, for she was intelligent and highly qualified; she caressed his hair while his head would be placed in her lap; she looked in his eyes and gave him the pleasure which can’t be put into words; she never complained about the things which stood in front of her. He wanted to do something for her but she was a woman for great resolution and self pride and she refused to take even a small gift from him. She was happy that he loved her, though she was deprived of the pleasure a woman wants physically, for he never tried and she never demanded. It was a love which touched the heights of the world which is so masterly created by the romantics in their wonderful creations. She believed that she was the richest woman because she had thousands of letters, which he had written to her, in her possession. She had the treasure of thoughts which they had exchanged.

      He saw his son, the only son, who had never been able to be close to him. He had studied in the best school and then in college. He had a group of friends who were mostly guided by the modern gadgets. Like millions of other youngsters in the modern world, he had hardly any time for his parents. He had never read his father’s books because he was interested in loud music, fashionable girls, drinks, clubs, and the people who thought like him. He never paused to think that the world he was living in was raised on the strong foundations of the past of which his father was a definite part.

      He thought about his wife. A very obedient lady, she had listened to him all his life and hardly ever complained. He had only one regret that she had never tried to understand him because she was mostly guided by the people like her, and she was highly influenced by the sense of property. She was happy that she had a big house but she never felt that house remains house if there is no correspondence between the people living in it, if there is no mutual understanding, if there is no time to share the thoughts. The house never becomes home in lieu of the aforementioned. He felt at home when he was with Madhuri though.

      He saw his daughters, very beautiful and lively, two of them married and one unmarried. The married ones mostly spent their bigger part of day with their mother in his house because they found their father’s gifts lying around them. The things they lacked in their husbands’ houses they looked for in their father’s house. In past twenty years, he had hardly spent a few hours with any of his daughters because they did not rejoice in the world of thoughts

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