I was surfing for some documents in my cup-board when I came across this old diary of mine where I used to write all meaningless stories and other crap. I opened the diary to see what I used to write in my childhood days. The pages of the book have turned yellow, and I could smell a nice fragrance in the air carried by those yellow pages. I flipped the pages to find some of my childhood works. Here’s a story that I had written when I was in Fifth Grade:
Once upon a time, there lived a hunter. He was very brave and passionate about hunting. He wouldn’t give up on his prey, come whatever may. He was always prepared for any kind of attack.
One day he saw a small, cute cub in the forest. The cub was lost and was looking for it’s parents. Instead of helping the poor thing, the hunter goes after it and shoots it down. When he approaches the dead cub, he realizes that he is already in the territory of the tigers. He sees the whole tiger family moving towards him in grief and anger. There were more than 15 tigers ready to attack him. But the hunter was good enough to put all of them to death. He then rips off all the flesh out of those dead tigers and leaves their caricature in that forest. He takes all the flesh to his home, cooks it and tries to consume it. He could only consume a tenth of the whole thing. He throws away the rest of the flesh.
The following day he goes back to the forest and this time he kills the whole pack of deers. And then rabbits, and elephants and all other animals; day after day, everyday.
Then one day, he goes to the forest and sees that there were no animals left. He had destroyed many species for his devoted pleasure of hunting. But that doesn’t leave him satisfied. He’s still hungry and still as mad as he could get. He then sees a banana tree. He goes up and picks up all the bananas that he could see. He eats a few of them and throws away all the others, even the ripe ones which were not a full banana yet.
The next day he picks up all mangoes, and then oranges, and then apples; day after day, every day.
Then one day he sees that the forest is no longer useful to him. So he burns it down and moves towards another forest. He keeps moving from forest to forest burning down everything that is of no use to him.
Then one day he wakes up and sees that he was sleeping in the ashes, there was nothing left for him to eat. He roams around the place in search of food, but he couldn’t find anything to eat. He then regrets for what he had done. He concludes that his passion for hunting has taken a wild form and it has left him with nothing but pieces of burnt charcoal and dead hope. He then keeps wandering in the barren land that he had made out of a beautiful world and wishes that he could go back in time and set everything back to normal. But he couldn’t. He keeps wandering until his hunger takes control over his body and ceases it to death.
Moral of the story:
One should be passionate about whatever one does, but at the same time one should be wise enough to understand one’s responsibilities towards nature and other beings. Passion without wisdom is like a body without soul and wisdom without passion is like a book of meaningless words that don’t make any sense.