Heirlooms ain't an Identity!

Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com

The mighty cloud had flown along a long way, hours of flight in the sun, crossing oceans and days of hard work gathering vapor. It was the onset of the monsoon and the mother earth was desperately waiting for a downpour. Suddenly, it was time when the old cloud looked no longer strong to carry ahead his load of responsibilities. Eventually, he decided to shed his work with the little cloud - which was born to him in due course. Ever since the little cloud was born, he was shadowed by the mighty father cloud.

The little cloud followed his father beneath and everywhere he traversed. They flew over the valleys, the pastures, the mountains, the lakes, the mangroves and the rivers. The little cloud always flew beneath his father and enjoyed every moment of his existence. He was very proud of the glorious history his father had. He boasted about all that he had - his heirloom and about all those things that supported his cause. The father cloud enjoyed his parenthood too and was always happy to protect his son from the winds, the lightening and the thunderstorms. He always cared for his son. The little cloud knew that, despite any forthcoming challenge, there ain't any reason he should be bothered at. Days were bliss and nights seemed clumsy for the little cloud. Life was a sumptuous journey for this little chap.

One fine day the father cloud realized that he was old, too old to carry any more work. He decided to give up and realize the purpose of his life. He spread up his mighty arms that resulted into a heavy downpour. The little cloud was frightened at the sight, which he had never dreamt in his worst nightmare. The heavy rainfall lasted for hours. The father cloud had quenched the thirst of numerous creatures on mother earth. The flora and fauna was blessed with the early showers of the monsoon. The little cloud observed his father's work and felt sorry for what he saw.

The rains had calmed down. The sky was clearer and the father cloud was no where visible. The little cloud looked at itself and felt sorry for his withered form. The air continued fading him away. He could see his father's work all over and in every space that surrounded him. The father cloud had survived his life in bringing up new things and creating things from scratch. He had devoted his life working, merging with smaller clouds and growing up to this extent. His hard work had fetched him name and fame on his own merits.

It was high time for the little cloud to realize that although he was a part of the glory, all that he lacked was an Identity.