After walking a thousand miles, crossing rivers and jungles and forests and oceans and deserts, the boy reached the fortress. He stood in front of the inquisitive princess and told, 'Because I like you.'
She was a happy princess. A princess who could've had anyone in this world.
She took her eyes away from him and said, 'Never mind.'
The boy smiled. It was a smile of gloom. And then he took the road back. Towards the place he came from. It was a faraway place. What was worse, he had to walk back alone, again. But he was content, in a way. For he knew, deep inside his heart, the princess always had her prince with her. 'They make a good pair, together,' he thought. And one day, for sure, they will be happy... really happy.
But what about his own happiness?
No one knew, in fact.
Perhaps, in some distant, or not-so-distant future, the lonely wandering boy will find happiness in the wild bushes and flowers of the forest, in the steep hillside fruits and red and purple coloured flowers, in the quiet waters of the ocean, in the scorching heat of yellow deserts, in winter, summer or monsoon, in the serene faces of unknown children of villages and unknown towns, in the birds and animals and people from all parts of the world, wherever he goes, in his moments with himself, in poetries, stories, and novels, in people's lives, in several more things, small and big.
Or maybe, never.
She was a happy princess. A princess who could've had anyone in this world.
She took her eyes away from him and said, 'Never mind.'
The boy smiled. It was a smile of gloom. And then he took the road back. Towards the place he came from. It was a faraway place. What was worse, he had to walk back alone, again. But he was content, in a way. For he knew, deep inside his heart, the princess always had her prince with her. 'They make a good pair, together,' he thought. And one day, for sure, they will be happy... really happy.
But what about his own happiness?
No one knew, in fact.
Perhaps, in some distant, or not-so-distant future, the lonely wandering boy will find happiness in the wild bushes and flowers of the forest, in the steep hillside fruits and red and purple coloured flowers, in the quiet waters of the ocean, in the scorching heat of yellow deserts, in winter, summer or monsoon, in the serene faces of unknown children of villages and unknown towns, in the birds and animals and people from all parts of the world, wherever he goes, in his moments with himself, in poetries, stories, and novels, in people's lives, in several more things, small and big.
Or maybe, never.
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