A Parable of Light
A Parable of Light By Arvindanabha Shukla In a quiet house lived a lamp- small, delicate, shivering whenever the wind remembered its strength. Two hands kept vigil beside it. One gifted it fire. The other cupped the flame, shielding it from predatory air, its own skin burning without complaint. Each time the flame trembled, the hands surrendered their portion of comfort, in silence. Seasons turned. The lamp grew stronger. Its flame learned steadiness, its glow stretched from wall to wall. Rooms filled with light. Voices rose in praise of its brilliance. One day, the lamp saw- the hands that had never left were shaking now. Their shadows dragged across the floor, long with weariness, heavy with years. The lamp thought: I am enough. My flame no longer needs guarding. And in the severity of its own glow it spoke: “Stand away. Your shadows dim my light.” The hands withdrew- no protest, no reproach, only silence. That evening a mild wind wandered in- no storm, no fury, only life, arriving a...