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Beyond the Vales and Dales- Story - Subramanian A

Beyond the Vales and Dales- Story - Subramanian A

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Published by Subramanian A
If one goes through my volumes, he will find that I have written only a few short stories. This is one such short story. I don't exactly recollect how I happened to handle such a theme.
If one goes through my volumes, he will find that I have written only a few short stories. This is one such short story. I don't exactly recollect how I happened to handle such a theme.

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Published by: Subramanian A on May 28, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Beyond the vales and dales.
Serial No 2656 From Book 98. Date05/05/2002 to 06/05/2002The following story happened in a certain country at a certain point of time. The country is unimportant. Material time of happening is alsounimportant. What is important is the universal truth which the story carrieswith it.There was an artist who was living in a certain place. It was a country sideand he was an amazing painter. He was already popular with his brush andcanvas. He was not a product of modern times and so was not a Modern Artist.He belonged to the classical age of painting and sculpturing and so had anuntainted brush. He lived close to Nature and reproduced natural scenes in hiscanvas. If Wordsworth had a brush, he would have become this painter. If thispainter had a gifted pen, he would have become another Wordsworth. This ismy observation.He used to dream a lot. He had fantastic dreams and one such dream wasthe following one:-
A bright, radiant figure appeared before him in the dream. A faceappeared prominent. He hadn’t seen that face before. Eyes were veryinnocent. Lips were innocent. The figure seemed to be the personification of life and truth, beauty and selfless love. He tried to figure out the person behindthe face but it was a vain search. He could not make out whether the facebelonged to a baby, boy or an elderly person. Nevertheless, it was a captivatingface.When he woke up, he followed his dream. The very radiance on the facewas very much alive before him. He could not resist from actually searching forthe form, figure. Was it an angel or a real person? Was it god himself rather?He was determined for a real search. He began his endless journey. Hecrossed many country-sides, vales and dales. He crossed rills and rivers in vain.It was an endless pilgrimage. It was an untiring search. He slept at many inns.He slept under the canopy of stars. He crossed many hamlets. He metcountless faces but to no avail. Still, he did not lose his heart. He wasoptimistic. He thought that his day would come.And it came true. He was at last blestfor his efforts. One day, he was crossing a hill-side. It was a beautiful landscape. There wasa herd of sheep grazing over the mountain-side. It was lush green all over. A river wasflowing nearby. A breeze was giving life tothe entire scene. Nature was breathing freshness at every angle.Under the shades of a tree was sitting a boy. He was piping a flute in thatsingular air. Evidently he was a shepherd. He was relaxing under the tree. Hewas breathing in the spirit of the moment. He was lost within the womb of Nature.
Our painter saw him. It was a momentous hour in his life. He could feel adeep stir within. He knew what it really meant for him. The dream had at leastcome to be true. He could feel about the reality before his very eyes. He wasconfident. He had no second thoughts. He required no second opinion.The boy was sitting peacefully. The whole Nature was dancing aroundhim. Heavens were descending upon him to enjoy the warmth of the hour. Theartist approached him. He sat before him in silence. He looked at the face of the boy very intently. He once again saw the very same dream before his eyes.He asked the boy to sit for a picture session. The boy was immersed in hisethereal music. He did not even feel the presence of the artist.The artist could feel for the presence of God in those serene surroundings.He took out his canvas, brush and colors and began to immortalize the spirit of the hours; the heart of Nature, the very presence of god. He could feel anenchanted kiss deep within. He could feel bliss and solitude deep in his heart.He was happy and contented after he had finished his painting. He felt that hislife had served its purpose.It was time for departure. He kissed the boy and felt the warmth of God.He knew what was innocence and transparency of heart. He knelt before theboy and prayed. He gave the boy a silver coin and took leave of the divinesurroundings.The artist returned home. His painting became an instant success and ranto thousands of copies. People bought it and hung it in their prayer hall. Therewas an indescribable beauty, an unspeakable feeling about the picture. Man isalways unconsciously driven towards the selfless love of God.Years passed on. Seasons appeared and disappeared in fleetingprocessions. Rains brought in life on earth. Springs gifted their colors and odorsto vales and dales. Our painter was leading a peaceful life in his old village. His

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