My Silver Tongue Storyteller!!!

My Silver Tongue Storyteller!!!

Stories been there, always, every moment, every time, in a near future there is a story in making, they are all around us, but we miss them, & so we miss our own story. It is writing itself every minute....it is a bit strange!!! That I am in my story & the story is all me!!! It is little narcissistic but we all are little that, so easy to ignore that small part. Our life is our story & no one can deny that, every character that we came across all of them are supporting characters and we are the main, it works vice versa. But there it is a simple truth hidden in plain sight that we all tend to miss. We all have our own unique story, we all are important in our own journey but we seem to care more about what other people thinks or doing or how it is more important to poke others than enjoying our own journey.

I always loved stories, as a child I was crazy about them, I used to grill my elders for more & more stories, & then of I go in my own fantasy world to relieve all the words & fantastic things I have heard. My grandma often used to tell me the stories before going to bed, good stories she called them, good for nature & soul with morals and principles, she thought it would be better to dream about good things from which I can learn something, & the whole day was for crazy fun stories. She knew stories are important for life; because we all have one & it is wise to learn differentiate between good stories with crazy ones.

After my grandma left all of us I lost all of my stories, I missed them but no one could replace her talent of storytelling,  she was brilliant one, she can make stories in a second I was amazed by her so many times. She never had shortage in new stories, with new fascinating characters and storylines. She and her stories were always ready to be told, and I admired her for that. It was a superpower to have to make stories while telling, making them evolving them, & she never hesitated. She always had inspiring stories of bravery, strength and morality. She liked reading a lot too, when she was not telling me stories, she was busy reading books, I never wanted to read back then, why should I have?? I had a talking living breathing story book, even an encyclopedia in that matter, she had answers for all of questions, & I had loads of them. Then suddenly one day I lost my Silver Tongue & lost my stories. Then I had to take shelter in the pages of many fine books, in a few months the books became my new best friend, still in my dreams I can hear my grandma reading me those books.

One day it hit me like a thunder that after all these stories all those words I never got to know the story of my grandma, I knew bits of pieces here & there, she used to tell me some things but not that much, like a moment, a sweet memory, a fine day, but never the whole story. I was too much of a selfish ignorant child that I never asked her own story, & no one can tell me her story like her, everyone will describe their own story & she will be a supporting character in those but in her stories she could have told me as a main character the original one. For my father & unties she was a mother, for me genius storyteller grandma, for my maa a loving caring mother in law but who was she for her? What was her own words about her, what made her who she was, I missed all that forever.

Since that day whenever I see a face I can feel a story, I asked my parents all about theirs, they sometime hate being interviewed or grilled so much. But I don’t want to miss another story go by me unnoticed, if I know someone then I have to know their story or it will be an incomplete chapter of my own story. And I am extremely selfish or better to say narcissist to leave my story incomplete, so I can’t miss the stories around me, they are part of me, the help writing my   own. I always been in love with stories, a good one can make me happy for hours, still now every story that I hear I can hear my grandma, her soft loving voice, she helped me understanding my love for stories, she fueled it encouraged it never got tired of telling me stories, my sweet sweet grandma, my silver tongue storyteller.